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Church worship can be a hot potato for us in the LCA/NZ, as it is in many other denominations. No congregation or pastor is exactly alike in the way they conduct and participate in services. We asked two pastors from the Commission on Worship for their personal responses to some burning questions on the subject.

1. Why do we worship God formally? Why do we have to go to church to worship?

Pastor Adrian Kitson: We don’t ‘have to go to church’, but we do need the mutual encouragement of other Christians to remain faithful, fruitful disciples of Jesus. We need him, his word and holy gifts no matter what, when or where. We can gather in loungerooms and bars and parks and schools. We are also free to gather in the buildings purpose-built for worship. Any worship gathering is a miracle. God serves us and we respond in thanks and praise, listening, proclaiming, singing and prayer. The question is, why would any Christian want to miss out on what God does for us when we gather in worship?

Pastor Tim Klein: Why do I worship in a congregation? For me, at the base level, it’s about being part of the body of Christ. Sure, I worship God in many personal ways, from celebrating and giving thanks to the Lord for all good things around me as I go: singing, whistling and writing songs of praise, and serving the Lord in all sorts of ways. But going to church every week to worship is heartland; it’s biblical; it’s life in the family of faith. I worship with my faith family, into which I am baptised.

2. Why does God want to be worshipped? One of the things God wants of us is humility – and yet he wants to be worshipped. How is that effective role modelling?

AK: For the most effective role modelling of being fully human with the deepest humility, all we have to do is look to Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. His words and actions of acceptance, challenge and calling, all said and done in love, are not just for information but also for transformation of the heart and mind. For all he has done and all he continues to do for us, there is only one appropriate response – to follow, to love, to pray, to sing, to listen to him above all others. We call that ‘worship’.

TK: I’m neither puppy nor puppet – not licking the hand that feeds me, nor dancing to the puppeteer’s tune. God wants me to worship him so he can bless, feed, forgive, guide, refresh and restore me for everyday life. God doesn’t need my worship; he loves it! In worship he has my full attention and that maximises his blessing potential on me and those with me. We are
built for relationship with God and with each other. God knows that worship together
is good for us all.

3. What are the essential elements of Lutheran worship and why they are critical?

AK: The essential element of our worship and what makes it divine and spiritually alive is the presence of Jesus. What we participate in is truly of profound spiritual blessing because Jesus speaks to us, and because his word does what he says. He is far beyond our understanding and yet he reveals his character and intention for us by his powerful word, as it is proclaimed in words and in actions of baptism, absolution, the Lord’s supper and the blessing.

TK: All of the above. It’s the Lord present with his body – together in one place. Baptism into Christ affirmed; sins confessed and forgiven; God’s word publicly read aloud, taught and proclaimed; feeding at the Lord’s table; being blessed and sent. These are for me the essentials of worship. There’s one other key for me: that in worship God is both subject and object. It’s not about me. I can proclaim Jesus as Lord in worship only by the working of his Holy Spirit. So he has brought me there, he inspires my worship and there the body of Christ worships God in his entirety.

4. Which ‘ingredients’ of worship come down to preference?

AK: Our worship has a rhythm to it from the Scriptures. The point of this rhythm or shape is not to restrict us, but to keep us firmly fixed on Jesus and the gospel at the centre of worship. The words, songs, prayers and actions within this rhythm are not set in concrete, and yet it is good to have common words, songs and prayers from Scripture. God has also called pastors in his community to proclaim God’s word and administer his gifts of grace. This includes the training, support and empowering of others to assist in worship, including the organist or band, the Bible readers, prayers, those who share messages for children, people who usher and welcome the stranger, and lay preachers.

TK: As the body of Christ in worship we fit into the rhythms laid down for us – shaped around the cross of Christ – with biblical foundations. Each of us brings to the body of Christ unique gifts, character and style. But I am conscious that my personal ideas, gifts and character should not move worship away from the biblical models upon which our service orders are based. We do, however, add to the collective memory of worship with modern expressions, new songs and ritual appropriate to the context.

5. God made me unique, not a clone. So why can’t I worship him any way I want?

AK: God promises he is with us. At any time we can speak with him, hear him speak, ask him for what we need and seek his will for our lives. In this sense we can and do ‘worship’ him anywhere, anytime. But he has created a special gathering where he gives us unique gifts. In this more public gathering of church, through pastors, he gives us his gracious acceptance and love in concrete, tactile means of word and water, bread and wine, in a public, corporate, communal way that makes us his body on earth in a visible, tangible way.

TK: Of course you can – especially when you are alone. When we are together, we share a common ritual – something that belongs to all of us. Some people worship with arms and heads raised high; others with hands clasped and heads bowed. Some sing loudly; others softly. Some read the Bible and some listen. Some smile and laugh with joy as they are fed the bread of life; some weep. But in worship the Lord meets all our needs. In forgiving each other our differences, God is at work in us refreshing us with a new sense of being gathered around the cross in the body of Christ.

6. What is liturgy and why do we need it?

AK: ‘Liturgy’ is a strange word to our ears. We say now that it is the ‘shape’ or ‘rhythm’ of what happens when God’s Spirit gathers us in Jesus’ presence. Sure, the liturgy can be done poorly in some dead, rigid, formal, lifeless kind of way, with little regard to those gathered and what their culture is. But when enacted with the gospel at its centre and when people’s needs and language are taken into account, it shapes us in good ways – in the gospel way, with Jesus at the centre. We receive him and respond to him in prayer, praise and thanks.

TK: The word ‘liturgy’ comes from a Greek word meaning service. For me, liturgy is the framework that makes way for God to serve us and for us to respond to him. Without a frame our worship would, in some ways, be spineless. It’s the ‘order’ that frees us to worship in a way that is not cluttered or bent out of shape by our own ideas and expectations. Healthy liturgy moves and flexes, responding to needs and circumstances. It responds to the word of God so that real ‘serving’ happens. I went to hear a visiting speaker who said, regarding the shape of worship: ‘We should be rooted in tradition before we can innovate with integrity’ (Nadia Bolz-Weber).

7. What is the role of music in worship and why does it matter what we sing/play?

AK: Music is a beautiful gift of God that enhances our worship because it can engage people in ways the spoken word often cannot. Its purpose in worship is to serve. Luther called it the ‘handmaiden to the gospel’. The role of musicians is to support people in the singing of the word, prayer and praise. They also support the preaching of the word as they work with the pastor to enact the drama of the liturgy, telling the story of God and his people. A well-played old song, sung with a faith-filled heart and rhythm, led by an old organ or single guitar or no instrument at all, can be just as helpful and encouraging as a song played by a cast of thousands with great skill and the same good heart.

TK: Like Pastor Adrian, I’m a musician, primarily a singer. I have a broad range of musical knowledge and taste. For me, music suited to church worship needs to be faithful to Scripture and serve a function of teaching, prayer or praise. Music can be liturgy or prayer. It can convey truths of God into deep levels of subconscious, or simply celebrate moments of grace. Some music is better suited to larger or smaller gatherings; some is more personal, reflective or devotional. Some is better performed, while some melody is easier sung by various generations. But church music belongs to all of us. We share a collective memory and need to be wary of dismissing the heartland of that memory.

8. What should the relationship be between worship and outreach?

AK: All we do in worship is, by its very nature, ‘outreach’. This is because wherever God speaks his word, he achieves the purposes for which he sends it. Therefore all worship services are evangelistic in nature. Strangers need to be welcomed. Words and actions need to be inclusive. The gospel needs to be the main word in everything done and said. The coffee needs to be good and the welcome full. The preaching needs to use common language, and stories told need to be God’s story intersecting with those of everyday people. Love needs to shine and the Spirit’s calling, gathering and enlightening power needs to be welcomed and prayed for.

TK: Only a person who knows God can worship God, so worship is perhaps, by definition, meant for the faithful followers of Jesus. But worship is also a place where the Lord feeds and equips us, forgives and refreshes us. Good news is proclaimed and done. His purpose is that we should serve him; that we would be his presence in the world! So, while the primary focus of worship might be for the body of Christ to gather, it also has dimensions of outreach where the Lord reaches out to us and others in our brokenness, to bring us back to the foot of the cross – worshipping and serving the Lord.

Adrian Kitson is pastor at Nuriootpa, SA and writer of the LCA theme song Where Love Comes to Life, and Tim Klein is pastor at Warradale SA and also a musician and songwriter. Both pastors are members of the LCA’s Commission on Worship. However, these responses represent their personal reflections and are not official statements on behalf of the commission.

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by Denis Edwards

As part of the lead-up to the 500th anniversary of the Reformation in 2017, an ecumenical working party of Lutherans and Catholics has been planning a program of projects and events to jointly commemorate the occasion. One project is a series of articles about the significance of the Reformation, written by Lutheran and Catholic authors from around Australia, to be published in both Lutheran and Catholic publications. The second in our series of six is by Reverend Professor Denis Edwards from the Australian Catholic University’s School of Theology and Institute for Religion and Critical Inquiry.

A new perspective on Martin Luther has been opened up for Roman Catholics by the fundamental consensus with the Lutheran church on the doctrine of justification, which was expressed in the Joint Declaration signed in Augsburg, Germany, on 31 October 1999.

What a joy it is that we can come together on what was the central cause of division between our churches, and that we no longer condemn each other’s views on the central truth of our faith, our salvation in Christ!

What does this mean for Roman Catholics in their view of Luther? I think it provides the possibility to see Luther as offering a precious gift on the journey of faith, in his conviction that God is a radically gracious God, who makes us right.

By studying the Scriptures, Luther came to a truly liberating discovery. We don’t make ourselves right before God, but are justified simply by God’s grace. It is God who saves us through the death and resurrection of Jesus. It is God who makes us right in Christ. And God does this as a free gift. The whole of our Christian life flows from this free gift.

I believe this insight is a gift from the Luther we Roman Catholics need to receive. Some have a view of God that fills them with fear, and they need to hear again the liberating idea that God is a God of grace and mercy; it is God who makes us right, not what we do. But in our society today there are other ways we can be trapped in self-justification. There can be a desperation to prove to ourselves and others that we matter, that we are important.

We can attempt to make ourselves right by the kind of home we have. We can try to make ourselves right by competing for attention, for status, for a better job, for more money.

Many of us get caught up in a cycle of more and more work, as if taking on more, or achieving more, makes us right.

The Lutheran emphasis on the doctrine of justification is a powerful reminder of what is central to the gospel: that we are made right by God, and by God alone. We are made right by God’s love poured out in the world in Jesus Christ, in his life, death and resurrection.

We are made right by a God of love, whose grace and mercy always goes before us and in whom we can entrust every aspect of our life and our death. In entrusting ourselves to him we find true freedom. We are enabled to live in freedom, free of the desperate need to prove ourselves. We are freed to take joy in God’s good creation and to live lovingly with those around us.

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by Judy Calder

Judy and Bernie Calder live in Mt Pleasant, an eastern suburb of Christchurch, New Zealand, which was badly hit by the devastating earthquakes the city has endured over the past six years. Judy recalls what it has been like to live through the fear, the destruction and the uncertainty of these disasters, at times wondering where God is in all of this.

4.35 am Saturday 4 September 2010
– 7.1 magnitude

It begins with a low rumbling sound and builds up to a roaring crescendo within a few seconds. The wall behind our bed wobbles. We are awake in an instant, unsure if a truck has hit our house. Our suitcases are packed, ready to fly to Wellington to attend my brother’s special birthday. It is pitch dark and the lights won’t work. We grope around for torches. No! We’ve packed them.

We feel our way down the hallway to our garage. ‘Get in the car’, says Bernie. ‘It might be safer there.’ But the garage and the car seem very cold and unsafe. We could be trapped here.

We pad our way back to the bedroom, wide awake now and wait for morning to arrive, so we can see what’s happened. Two more massive quakes hit in quick succession. It’s terrifying.

Daylight arrives pathetically slowly. Once the sun is up, we walk around the bay to nearby Redcliffs. The shop is frantically busy – people stock up with bread and milk while the service station has queues of people. Bernie’s sister lives nearby, so we walk there and have a welcome cup of tea. They have electricity.

The earthquakes continue. ‘Expect three days of them’, say the experts. I go to our bed fully clothed for 10 nights. We’ve worked out our safe place – on the deck outside our bedroom door, but away from the house. I rush outside often as the house shakes. How I hate the nights.

My daughter texts from Europe. She and her husband are on a belated honeymoon. ‘R U OK? How is my house?’ I answer the first question, but leave the second. It takes us days to get to her house at Bexley, to the north. We see it drunkenly leaning towards the ground. The lawns are covered in liquefaction, as the soil has become saturated.

And still the quakes continue … where are you, God?

12.51 pm 22 February 2011
– 6.3 magnitude

We’re minding our two-year-old granddaughter Eva while her parents are at work. All hell breaks loose. The house jerks violently and, like a mother hen, I gather Eva up and put her under my body. The mirror on the wall crashes to the floor. She had been playing just inches from it! I grab blankets and we head outside to our ‘safe place’. This is scary. I look at the back lawn and see a sand volcano being born! Its sides rise and form a perfect cone. A spout forms and water pours out for several hours, meeting the liquefaction that now covers much of our land.

We wait for news. No phones, no radio, no TV – no connections anywhere. Eva’s parents, Darin and Anita, arrive. ‘Where’s Eva?’, they ask in panic. They smother her with love. My daughter looks at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Oh Mum, the city! It’s in chaos. People are killed, the buildings are down and the roads are full of holes.’ She tells me how she hid under her desk and got out down the stairwell as the three-storey carpark beside her collapsed.

We are all hungry, so Bernie bravely enters the intermittently shaking house and grabs a loaf of bread from the freezer, some cheese and a knife. We sit outside and enjoy the food, thankful we are alive. We decide to head to Darin and Anita’s house, thinking it may be safer on the rocky hills.

The sand for the foolish man and the rocks for the wise man was different. Here, neither sand nor rocks are safe. The ground continues to shift violently and their house shakes. We decide the whole city is unsafe. We head south to Ashburton, a rural town 100 km away, where Darin’s family has a farm. They are kindness in action when they see our distressed state and watch with horror the news on television.

Then God sends help. An email arrives and it’s from David Stolz – here is a man of God, a former district president of the LCA whom I knew vaguely, who comes in my hour of need and for two long years walks beside me. He teaches me to hang on, he prays for me and my family, he shares our long journey with his family, friends and congregations he preaches at – often reading out sections of my emails. He helps me to share and to laugh and have fun – even when the odds were very, very long.

The land heaves and groans … where are you, God?

We are staying on the other side of the city and we flee town every few months to Ashburton, Wellington (where I cover my head, so I can’t see the tall buildings), Brisbane (where I take a shopping trip but run away when I see
a three-storey mall), and Blenheim. For the next five years I don’t go higher than two storeys in any building.

One day at home I feel brave enough to clean the pantry. Sauces, pickles, broken jars and crockery litter the floor. I reach in the corner, saying a quick prayer, as I wipe up. But another big one hits and my head is stuck for a few seconds. It takes me three weeks to even look at the mess of my book collection.

There are no toilets but we cope. Eventually a portaloo appears in our street, but it’s half a kilometre away! The whole country has run out of portaloos. Thank goodness for China! They make us 900 within a few months and one is placed on our front lawn. We share it with six other houses. A strong wind blows across the bay and the portaloos on the hill fall over. We smile – it’s our first joke for a while.

We go to the local school every two days to collect water. They give out hand sanitiser and face masks. I wonder about the masks, but we soon know. That strong, warm wind dries out the water in the bay at low tide and that’s where all the raw sewage is going.

We gather in church in silence, giving support and prayer for each other.

And still the ground rumbles and roars … where are you, God?

The city has been cordoned off for months but one day is reopened. We join others in having a look. No one speaks as we walk past a deserted restaurant. Tables and chairs, cutlery, plates and food litter the floor. It feels like Pompeii. We return home in silence and don’t go back to the CBD for a couple of years. Big trucks, earth moving machines and cars add to ever-increasing cracks. I look at our bedroom ceiling and hope it doesn’t fall on me. Already we lean towards the sea.

Many Anglican brick churches have come down. Others have suffered, too. We share our building, run services throughout Sundays, open spare rooms and make new friends.

The quakes roll on. Sometimes they’re like gentle waves, rocking our house like a cradle. Others
come with the sound of a car starting and build to a resounding crescendo. But it’s the gigantic sudden lurches that scare me most.

Oh God, our help in ages past … where are you?

1.00 pm 13 June 2011 – 5.8 magnitude

This is another big, shallow one. I grab Eva and we go outside. We wait hours until the earth seems to settle. We walk along the road. But as we round the corner, it comes again. Shopkeepers run outside with customers. I’m thrown to the ground, Bernie’s on the road and Eva’s down, just beyond my reach. (I couldn’t reach her – that’s forever in my mind as tears form remembering this.) A rock as big as a car falls off the hillside and stops two lampposts away. But we help each other – the doctors, the hairdresser, the customers and the chefs.

We set off for home but our street is covered in liquefaction. We don’t know where the next sink hole is. Bernie picks up Eva, throws her over his shoulder and I follow, thinking that if he sinks down, I’ll be able to help. Unrealistic, I know.

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As part of the lead-up to the 500th anniversary of the Reformation in 2017, an ecumenical working party of Lutherans and Catholics has been planning a program of projects and events in order to jointly commemorate the occasion. One project is a series of articles about the significance of the Reformation, written by Lutheran and Catholic authors from around Australia, to be published in both Lutheran and Catholic publications. The first in our series of six is by Pastor Fraser Pearce, a member of the LCA’s Commission on Theology and Inter-Church Relations, and the parish senior pastor at Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Adelaide.

Luther wrote and spoke powerfully because he wrote and spoke about Jesus. He wrote and spoke about Jesus not simply as a guide or an example for us, but as the Saviour, who rescues us from death, from sin, and from hell itself. And it’s because Jesus, who died to take away the sin of the world, now lives that the Reformation message about Jesus still has power in our world.

Early in his career (in 1520) Luther wrote a short book called The Freedom of a Christian. In this book, he explained the joy that comes through trusting in Jesus as our Saviour: ‘The Christian ought to think, “Although I am an unworthy and condemned person, my God has given me in Christ all the riches of righteousness and salvation, without any merit on my part, out of pure, free mercy, so that from now on I need nothing except faith which believes it is true”.’

Luther could write these words joyfully, because he knew that God gives us the gift of faith through his gracious word, winning our trust in Jesus, and freeing us from self-centred living. Because we have Jesus as our Saviour, we no longer need to focus inwardly and become anxious about what we lack, whether that is goodness, peace or strength for daily life. Instead we are free to look to Jesus, to trust that, in him, God gives us all that we need. And we are free to respond with simple gratitude.

This is how Luther put it: ‘Why should I not therefore freely, joyfully, and with all my heart, and with an eager will do all things which I know are pleasing and acceptable to such a Father who has overwhelmed me with his inestimable riches?’

This response of gratitude is one that overflows in love for our neighbour. Since in Christ we freely have all good gifts from God, in thankfulness we can share the gifts Christ gives us with the people God brings into our lives. Luther wrote boldly, ‘I will therefore give myself as a Christ to my neighbour, just as Christ offered himself to me. I will do nothing in this life except what I see is necessary, profitable, and salutary to my neighbour, since through faith I have an abundance of all good things in Christ’.

Faith in Jesus gives us freedom to love our neighbour: It’s in Jesus that love comes to life. Luther wrote and spoke about Jesus the Saviour, about Jesus who loves us and who frees us to love each other. This is the message of the Reformation – it’s all about Jesus.

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