Unscripted Worship - Christianity Today

At the time it was only $180 per round, so I knew I was standing on the 18th tee at Pebble Beach for the one time in my life.

I desperately wanted to go home with a par so every time I saw this hole on television, I could say I parred it.

It’s the most famous hole in golf. With the Pacific Ocean bordering the entire left side of this dog-leg left par five, and out of bounds creeping in from the right, this is the ultimate risk-reward hole.

The hole begs you to hit far down the left side, crossing as much ocean as you dare, and still put your ball on dry land. Of course you can use less club and lay up safely down the right side, but then you have to contend with a much longer hole and two trees in the fairway blocking your second shot.

What a parable of life! We constantly make choices between what is safest (read controllable) and what is more risky but potentially more rewarding. Few places make that choice more clear than opening up church gatherings to spontaneous contributions of those gathered. It is a moment of high risk—with great rewards when it fits what God is doing, and the potential for embarrassment when it doesn’t.

What do you see?

They say that good golfers stand on the 18th tee at Pebble Beach and only see the fairway. I wouldn’t know. That blue expanse of rolling ocean crowding in from the left caught my eye from the start and wouldn’t let it go.

I used to think that way about congregational contributions in worship. I had grown up in a tradition that scripted the entire service, and nothing unforeseen ever happened unless someone dropped a smuggled Life Saver candy onto the sloped hardwood floor.

We did have an occasional Sunday night “Singspiration,” where people called out their favorite song in such a random sequence that the evening felt void of content. For a while my parents attended a Pentecostal church where Sister Judy complained about her gall bladder each week, as she told us she had been “healed by the blood of Jesus.” And I can still hear Ben taking the opportunity to castigate the evils of television and everyone who owned one.

It is true that the worst gatherings I’ve ever been to resulted from spontaneity, so you’ll get no argument from me that sticking to a script is far safer. But in doing so we miss out on some of the greatest treasures body life has to offer. For it is also true that the most inspiring and enlightening moments I’ve ever spent with the body of Christ have come from unplanned moments of sharing.

Like the morning a young mother stood up to tell us she couldn’t worship because she was still angry at God for killing her baby. Six months before, her baby had been stillborn. As she sobbed in grief, some people stood beside her in prayer, and a couple of others read Scriptures about God’s comfort in our most difficult moments. Reality had stolen the moment, and for the rest of the morning we all had an awakened sense of our need for the Living God.

Sticking to a script is far safer, but in doing so we miss out on some of the greatest treasures body life has to offer.

I’ve also watched a number of times as the sermon I had prepared was “preached” by people sharing insights they had gleaned during the week. Their stories provided better illustrations than those I had found. On mornings like that I’ve just read through the text making brief comments to point to the stories we had already heard that morning. We all went away convinced that God had spoken quite clearly to us.

I was even in a gathering one morning when a young woman approached the altar and picked up the Communion chalice from which we were to drink later that morning. The congregation was in the middle of a power struggle as a small group of elders fought for control of the body. Rumor and innuendo had spread through the congregation for months.

She lifted the cup above eye level and then poured out the grape juice on the floor. I don’t remember her words, but her message was clear: “How dare you come to this table with gossip and division running rampant among you!”

The floor was not carpeted, so there was no enduring damage, but I have certainly witnessed no greater commentary on 1 Corinthians than that. It still comes to mind whenever I participate at the Lord’s table.

You cannot script such moments without resorting to theatrics or manipulation, which cheapen the experience. When the body is simply responding to God’s promptings, they provide some powerful moments for the church.

Benefits of the unscripted moment

I have found that departing from scripted worship can provide at least four significant rewards.

1. The wonder of immediacy. Nothing makes the Christian life more real than seeing how others are hammering it out daily.

She had been coming to our fellowship only a few weeks, but her reputation preceded her. She had won some beauty contests and had even helped host a Christian TV show. This particular morning her mother had come with her to the service. I was surprised when, during a pause in our morning worship, she began to pray aloud. It was a prayer of confession for an adulterous heart.

She must be talking spiritually, I told myself as I listened to her prayer. But she wasn’t. She’d been engaged in an affair with a married man, which became more obvious as she sought the Lord’s forgiveness and that of her fellow believers. Not everyone was comfortable at such a moment. I certainly wasn’t. But that morning her brokenness and repentance stirred many hearts to take more seriously the Lord’s calling to purity.

2. A graphic demonstration of the priesthood of all believers. Since the Reformation, we comfortably talk about every believer as a priest. But practicing it is a different story. Allowing worship to be led only by those who are practiced and prepared encourages everyone else to fall into a passivity that undermines their spiritual growth.

Spontaneity restores active involvement, using many to share an insight or offer a word of prayer. It reminds us that body life is built on participation not performance.

3. Important feedback on our spiritual growth. Spontaneous opportunity allows you to take the temperature of the congregation without guesswork or surveys. If people are growing in the faith, they will have plenty to share that is fresh and alive. If, on the other hand, that growth has stagnated, you’ll find that participation is repetitious, stilted, or nonexistent.

A few years ago I was in a home group that operated without a pre-planned agenda. Believers were encouraged to come with something to share with the others. One night after a song or two, it was obvious everyone was tired and no one had anything to say. Someone finally said, “Has anyone brought something to share tonight?” The looks and the accompanying silence provided a clear answer.

They decided to go home and try it again next week. We all realized we were not prepared to gather. The next week everyone came with something to share.

4. More voices to recognize God’s working. The difference between a service led by the “professionals” and one open to others is the difference between a solo instrument and a symphony. It is easy for us to get tone deaf to the same voices, particularly when people can discount them because “they’re just doing their job.”

But when they hear from people just like themselves and learn to recognize God’s voice together, they end up with a greater awareness of sharing the journey of faith. Rather than settling in as mere spectators, they come to see themselves as a ministry team through whom God makes his life and will known.

Making a place

Even though they were in their 50s, they had been married less than 18 months. To hear her tell of it, their marriage had been a nightmare from the start. “When we came back from our honeymoon to move my stuff in, I discovered he had not made any room for me at all. No closet space had been cleared, no drawers in the dresser emptied. And that’s the way it’s been in every other area. He wanted a cook and cleaning woman, not a partner in life.”

If we’re going to experience the power of spontaneous contribution during our gatherings, we have to make room for it. Even in more structured services, opportunities for congregational input abound:

Before worship. Periodically let the call to worship rise from the congregation. “As you gather with other believers this morning, what stirs in your heart to give praise to God?”
During worship. Pause and give people freedom to share thoughts, read a Scripture, or suggest a song.
After worship. “As we have shared God’s presence today, what has he revealed to you about himself?”
Before the message. “Before I share what God’s been teaching me this week, I’d love to find out what some of you have been learning. Would anyone feel free to take a moment and let us in on your journey?”
During prayer. In one congregation where I was interim pastor, they had a slot in the worship service for “Pastoral Prayer.” The first Sunday I was there, I made it clear that since they had no pastor, we would have to do the praying ourselves. I explained that during this time people could feel free to lead out in prayer or make a request for someone else to pray about. In the next week’s bulletin, the “Pastoral Prayer” had been replaced with “Prayers of the Congregation.”
After the message. Often in Jesus’ ministry, people responded to what he said with questions and comments. These interactive moments create wonderful learning opportunities.

Reordering our corporate world

Of course for spontaneity to work, we will need to do more than just create holes in the service. We may have to change our priorities to create the environment conducive to congregational sharing. Spontaneity demands a shift from excellence to edification, from performance to participation.

One morning Dave shared a life-changing discovery he’d made while reading the story of Jesus’ crucifixion: the forgiven thief went to Paradise without having ever done even one righteous act. Given that he was nailed to a cross, there wasn’t much he could have done. To Dave, this opened up a new vista on God’s grace and on his own failed efforts to earn God’s favor. Dave’s testimony wasn’t polished, but it was real.

I was with him a week later, his eyes still wide with wonder. “I can’t believe the number of people who told me how much my sharing meant to them.”

Wonder why I accept the risks of the spontaneous? To see what happened to Dave. Nothing motivates people to greater growth in God than seeing how sharing their journey can help others.

Wayne Jacobsen is director of Lifestream Ministries 5820-T West Caldwell Visalia CA 93277 waynej@lifestream.org.