This Is Not That: Worship
Why Reimagine Worship?
What if worship isn’t what we thought it was? Not the stage lights, not the setlist, not the goosebumps when the bridge swells just right.
What if the whole show—the pews and pulpits and polished prayers—wasn’t actually what the New Testament was pointing to?
Strange thought, isn’t it?
That maybe what we inherited was less Jesus and more hand-me-downs from pagan practices in Rome, cemented into place when Constantine hitched the Church to the empire (AD 313–380).
And yet, we’re told to call it “corporate worship.”
Our way to glorify God. Our response. Our reverence. Our adoration.
But here’s the unsettling thing.
However you frame it, this version leaves us blind.
Blind to who Jesus really is.
Blind to who we’ve already become in Him.
Blind to the freedom already humming in our bones.
So maybe the real question isn’t Why reimagine worship?
Maybe it’s What if worship was always meant to be freer, closer, more alive than we dared to believe?
Because if worship isn’t about the show, the seats, or the sound…
Then what is it?
It all comes down to this:
Who Is Jesus?
Not the Jesus dressed up in expectations or strapped to our systems. Not the Jesus of empire, duty, or endless striving.
But the Jesus who comes to us as friend. The Jesus who doesn’t demand a performance but pulls out a chair.
That’s the only question that matters.
Because if all things were created in Him, through Him, for Him—if all things hold together in Him—if all of God delighted to dwell in Him and reconcile all things in Him (Colossians 1:15–20)…
Then who we are is forever bound up in who He is.
And if one died for all, then all died (2 Corinthians 5:14).
Think of an island sinking into the sea. Everything on it goes down too.
Or to say it the way Paul does: “From now on, we regard no one according to the flesh” (2 Corinthians 5:16).
We are new. Already.
Jesus isn’t the relationship you have to build. He is the relationship.
Which means worship is not you proving your devotion. It’s you trusting the devotion that’s already true in Him.
The Problem We Face
James Torrance once called it “unitarian” worship—do-it-yourself worship. Something you do, in a building, on a Sunday, with a minister’s help.
And that’s the thing: when worship becomes your side of the bargain, the God Jesus spoke of is lost, and the grace Jesus spoke of is gone.
Worship becomes the barometer of your faithfulness. The treadmill that never stops… if you’re serious.
And if worship is how you acquire or validate grace? Then grace was never grace in the first place.
Jesus said it straight:
“What is impossible for mortals is possible for God” (Luke 18:27).
The impossible was never your dream job, your miracle cure, your next big breakthrough. The impossible was God brining you into eternal life.
In Christ, God already did the impossible (Eph 2:5-6).
Ancient Roots, Old Ghosts
Remember where Israel came from.
Every nation had created gods. Angry ones. Bloodthirsty ones. Gods who needed to be fed—animals, harvests, even children.
So Israel’s early worship in the Old Testament was shaped in that neighborhood. Altars. Sacrifices. Rituals.
It doesn’t mean the Scriptures got it wrong. It means the Bible intentionally tells the story of frail people slowly waking up to God’s true reality.
God as master. People as slaves. That was the ancient imagination.
But then God shows up in the person of Jesus—and He calls God “Father.” Not 15 times like in the Old Testament, but 165 times.
Not slave-master. Father.
And worship shifts from appeasement to astonishment. From “maybe He’ll spare us” to “you’ll never not be my sons and daughters” (Romans 8:17).
Modern Roots, Same Ghosts
Fast forward.
Modern worship has the same problem.
We’ve just baptized it with guitars and lighting rigs, or robes and candles.
For some, worship is about what makes them feel close to God. For others, it’s about explaining God to outsiders. For many, it’s about anxiously chasing an experience. At its core, it’s just spiritual self-pleasure.
In short: it’s still superstition.
Still an attempt to crack the code.
Still us trying to conjure something that’s already true.
But worship is not how we chase assurance. Worship is what flows when assurance has already found us.
“In spirit and in truth” (John 4:23) isn’t about a formula. It’s about what happens when the Light of Life exposes us—and we discover that “light” was already shining from within us (John 1).
Does Worship Give God Glory?
Let’s be honest.
That’s the question that brings the weight.
But worship doesn’t give God glory.
Because if God is who Jesus says He is, then God’s glory isn’t running a deficit. He’s not waiting on your contribution.
That’s just ancient religion in new clothes: a god who needs us.
The God Jesus revealed? He doesn’t need us. He wants us. Loves us. Likes us. “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). Already.
So worship isn’t about filling God’s tank. It’s about enjoying His fullness.
Sometimes the best way to see it is to put it in everyday terms—just to notice how odd what we do really is.
Imagine how awkward it would be if your kids gathered around the breakfast table every morning to read your letters and sing songs about you—when all you wanted was to share eggs and laugh together.
That’s the difference. Religion gathers around performance. Jesus reveals a God who gathers around a table. Not a deity desperate for applause, but a Father, Son, and Spirit who just want to eat with friends.
Perhaps this is why the early Church didn’t have stages or sermons like ours. They had tables in everyday homes. And at those tables, resurrection was proclaimed and freedom declared in conversations.
Worship Without “Should”
Not seeing the God who has no need for us, just wants to be with us, is where we often stumble.
Because we build worship around “shoulds.”
You should love God. You should pray more. You should sing louder.
But “shoulds” never lead to love.
“Shoulds” are the language of virtue—words that “nullify the grace of God” (Galatians 2:21).
In contrast, worship is the language of freedom.
Formation isn’t about becoming more like Christ. It’s what happens as you live with the belief that you’re already one with Him (Colossians 3:11).
That’s the radical shift: replacing “become” with “believe.”
Replace stages with tables. Pulpits with porches. Membership programs with meals. Expectations with encouragement.
That’s worship.
This Is Worship
Worship is getting used to our home being hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3).
It’s the security of a child in their parent’s arms.
It’s running home with no speech prepared and finding your Father already sprinting toward you (Luke 15:20–24).
“It’s losing the parachute, falling through the sky, and realizing the whole time—you are held.” (Jameson Allen)
Worship is not groveling. Not pacifying. Not performing.
Worship is the freedom to breathe. To laugh. To dance. To sing. To nap.
Jesus said He would draw all people to Himself (John 12:32).
He has. He is. He will.
And if all things are reconciled in Him, then what else is left but to raise the glass, break the bread, tell the story, and pass it on?
This is worship.