Individualism vs. Corporeality
As the pendulum of praise continues to swing, let us look at it from another angle. That being the degree of individuality or corporeality.
As we approach the swinging instrument, careful to not get knocked over by the immense weight of the very object we seek to study, we find ourselves standing on the highest arc of two contrasting sides. On one side, we discover ourselves upon a platform of solitude. The silence is deafening here. But in the silence, we hope to hear what some call the “still, small voice of God.”¹ (please take note of the parenthetical in the footnotes)
If you may allow for an introductory aside: preachers teach that the background noise of life has been turned up to eleven in such a way that it has drowned out the voice of God altogether. As if to imply that God’s omnipotent voice cannot cut through earthly distractions!
What folly! For I assure you, that if God wants your attention He shall have it. If God seeks an audience, He will by no means struggle to garner attention. He is not some poor social media influencer laboring away in obscurity hoping that the almighty algorithm (a modern god) might have mercy on the Source of Mercy Himself and grant Him some boon of virality.
God seeks no permission to get your attention. He needn’t woo you as though He were some pimple-faced teenage boy nervously hoping his promposal goes over well. God does not lower Himself to witty invitations filled with sushi and pizza puns. Nor does He post feeble attempts at courting His future Bride on His Instagram page.
Why? His method is much better. He draws us to His Son Jesus. His sheep hear His voice. He calls them by name and leads them out. And not one of those the Father has given Him shall be lost! For He sustains them by His inspired, inerrant, infallible, all-sufficient Word. When the Spirit of regeneration enters the heart of a man, that man shall enjoy communion with the Almighty in the eternal courts of Heaven.
But, tangents aside, this platform of Sunday solitude is lonely. Were it not that the pastor told us God is there beside us, we would feel altogether alone. It’s dark on this scaffolding. We can barely see the next step ahead of us but are ensured that by some mystical process, this is how we cultivate a relationship with God.
And who is not invited to stand upon this platform with us? Well, at first we look around and are surprised to see that our fellow Christians aren’t in our immediate view. We squint through the dimly-lit sanctuary and barely make out, leagues away, our brothers and sisters in Christ. Each of them have their own personal mini-platform identical to ours. They all appear to be having the very same experience we are, although it is hard to determine whether that’s truly the case. Their eyes are closed. Their hands are raised in humble adoration of the Almighty. They bow in reverence. And all the while, they are wholly unaware that the rest of the body has come to worship the very same God they worship.
When communion comes, they individually approach the table of elements and silently reflect on the work Christ has done for them (reflected on in a singular and personal fashion). They then return to their lonely platforms to finish their individualized worship.
Finally, the service concludes, they trade their platform for a church lobby with coffee bars, snacks, and bathrooms and are progressively thrown into the realization that there were indeed other believers standing right beside them in the very service they just participated in.
And perhaps in the quietness of their hearts they question whether isolated worship is really the purpose of the corporate worship experience.
Who else is not invited to this vantage point? Why Tradition has not received her invitation in the mail either! No faithful evangelists canvased her neighborhood and put a flier on her door. “She’s old and will pass away soon anyways,” they argue in an attempt to reconcile their slothfulness. “Plus, she came a few months ago and she was rather contrary to the way we do things these days. She didn’t like our songs. She didn’t like the lack of structure. She didn’t like our new interpretations of the Bible. She nearly told us to our face that us ‘young kids think they know everything.’ No, no, no! Tradition is not welcome on the platform of hyper-individualism. She will not interpret my experience and I will not allow her to teach me any supposed lessons from ages past.”
This is how we treat our great grandmother Tradition. Keep her in her nursing home! She’s rude and always gets in our way.
The more intellectual among us justify the desire for her absence by inviting a much more prominent member through the oaken doors beneath our steeple - the royal guest Sola Scriptura (Scripture alone). And when this esteemed visitor shows up on Sunday, to our great surprise we realize we’ve mistakenly sent the invitation to his cousin - Solo Scripture (Scripture only).
What a blunder! In a last ditch effort, we phone Sola and extend a desperate invitation. When he hears that Tradition wasn’t invited, he kindly declines. “I appreciate the invite. Yes, I am the final word and authority on matters of faith and Christian practice. However, there is also much to learn from Tradition. She has lived many years and gray hair is a crown of glory. You would do well to consider her wisdom and then run everything she says by my infallible rule.”
When the time comes for corporate worship, we find ourselves standing all alone; no fellow believers, no tradition to give us wisdom, and - in the most extreme cases - no Scripture to guide us. Worship becomes an individualistic, subjective experience. In our attempt to turn down the volume of the world around us, not trusting that God’s voice is quite loud enough to cut through the din, we end up extricating ourselves from anything that truly serves to edify us.
We DO hear a “still, small voice” but it is only the voice inside of our head - our own inner-monologue. We call this kind gentlemen who always tells us nice things “God” but it is simply ourselves. We call him “Holy Spirit” but in reality we have deceived ourselves into making ourselves our own god.
Do you not notice how he only encourages you but never rebukes you? Do you not recognize how he always reinforces your beliefs but never challenges them?
Occasionally we have a cathartic experience and think we have achieved some mental breakthrough. Bravo! Good for you! Many mystics and yogis have claimed the same - even so self-deceived to think that their internal musings are for their benefit. But in the end we know that the heart (and if I may be so bold to add, the inner-monologue) is deceitful above all things.
Man’s heart is fixed on a sinful path. It is a path that is at first studded with roses and lilies, flowing with beautiful streams and rivers, auditorily enticing with singing birds and chirping crickets. But beware this path that once looked paradisiacal soon grows thorns and thistles. The streams and rivers turn into barren riverbeds that have long run dry. Once the birds fly closer to the ground you realize they are actually vultures counting the hours until your imminent demise. The chirping of crickets devolves into the low hum of an army of locusts patiently waiting to destroy the crop that will eventually sprout from your decaying body once it has been composted back into the earth.
The apex of the swing of individualism in worship is indeed a dangerous platform to plant your feet upon. So, you step off and run to the other extreme: corporeality.
As you climb the height to view individualism’s sister apex, you reach the last rung. Several hands reach down to offer you assistance in traversing the squared edge onto this new platform. Cresting the precipice you see a platform filled with throngs upon throngs.
“Welcome to the body of Christ!” A polite voice echoes. “We’re a little full today so it’s standing room only. But you should be able to find a spot to observe the service over in the north-eastern quadrant.” Squeezing through the crowd, you start to recognize some of the attendees.
A hand reaches out to shake yours, “Hello! Good to see you again. Do you remember me?” After a moment of contemplation, you recognize this man as Anonymity. “Of course I do, Anonymity my old friend! How are you? Shall we get lost in the crowd again today? I trust you’ve saved me a seat in the back row by the exit as usual. I suspect if you and I put on sour faces, show up ten minutes after the service has started, and refuse to make eye contact, we may even be able to avoid the greeters standing at the front door this time. How excellent that would be to be able to consider ourselves part of the great body of Christ without having to truly interact with anyone!”
Locking hands with Anonymity so as not to get lost in the shoulder-to-shoulder horde of church-goers, you eventually manage to find your spot for the morning service. “See, that was nice. We didn’t even have to talk to anyone from our lovely church family on the way in.”
However, your luck is ruined as you feel a bony finger tapping on your shoulder. Instinctively you turn around and are greeted by a pleasant smile from a decrepit elderly woman. “Oh honey! I didn’t think you’d come today and yet here you are. What a pleasant surprise,” she warmly greets you. To which you respond while feigning a polite smile, “Ahh! Yes. It is so very good to see you this morning, Sister Tradition! I hope your ears weren’t burning earlier today. They were having quite the conversation about you over on the platform yonder.” Her countenance sours for a moment, “Yes. They never did welcome me into their church. I suspect they thought I was too bossy.” A smile graces her face again, “Anyways, I’ve saved you and Anonymity two of the last seats in the sanctuary. Come join me and my children!”
Squishing into the middle of the back row, you take a seat beside Tradition’s offspring - Creed and Confession. They are two well-dressed chaps who have decided to wear three-piece suits to this morning’s gathering. Creed’s children Athanasius, Apostle, and Nicaea sit beside him. Confession’s progeny Westminster and Baptist sit further down the row. You take note of how well behaved they are.
They turn and address you in unison, “Have a seat! Feel free to turn your mind off. We will tell you what to think today. No need to compare our words to the Bible. We’ve already done that for you.”
And there you sit for the remainder of the service, taking comfort in the fact that you are among family.
It’s safe here. You are surrounded by a group of people who call themselves Christians and you are quite sure you’ve done all the right things to be considered a part of this elite club.
Firstly, you have managed to forsake your comfortable bed and grace the doors of a parish. You’ve truly found community - you’re in a room full of people after all!
Secondly, you’ve learned all the right things to believe after just a short conversation with Confession and Creed. Being assured that this is what you must accept, you feel a part of not just the visible church but also the invisible. What a wonderful delight to be the body of Christ!
Little do the inhabitants of this platform know that they have only merely mentally assented to the idea of being a part of God’s family but have never chosen to fully participate. For they have left their individuality at the door in hopes that by clinging to the communal promises of God’s eternal Word they might find entrance into His kingdom.
They grasp onto the coattails of the elect - that undeserving group that God has predestined from the beginning of the world.
They dock their boats in that safe harbor named Pas (all). Hoping that their vessel may be protected from the coming storm of God’s wrath if only they securely fasten it to a collective promise.
They find pasture among the sheep that belong to Christ, while all the while trying to hide in the far corners of the fertile acreage miles away from the rest of the flock. They do not realize that these tender babes are among the first the wolves choose to devour. For there is strength in numbers, and even more strength when cajoled by the guiding crook of the great Shepherd Himself!
These are those who have considered themselves part of God’s family only by their own identification and not by God’s. Are their names graven on His hands? Are their initials written on His heart? They do not realize that, despite their best efforts, their stylus’s are unable to pierce the hardened clay of God’s sovereign decree. Man cannot adopt himself into God’s family. Man cannot take the Almighty to court and cause the judge to force custodial rights.
The amazing part is that these false sheep are virtually unidentifiable from the true sheep that surround them. For the false sheep seem to do most things the true ones do. They go to church. They read the responsive readings. They sing the hymns. They go to Sunday school. They drop their mammon in the offering plate. These sheep indeed graze in the same pastures the true sheep graze in. But, when they arrive back to their private abodes far away from prying eyes, they regurgitate anything they’ve mistakenly swallowed while cordially reclining at the table of this week’s family reunion. They have no second stomach as if to chew the cud to make it easier to digest. They simply clench tight their eyelids, vomit their sustenance straight into the commode, and hastily flush it down without even giving it a mere glance!
This is the routine of the spurious sheep who find counterfeit community in deceiving themselves into thinking they truly belong to a family. If this be your concept of family, it is a wildly bastardized version of one! The true sheep consider themselves part of a familial unit, at the same time understanding the individual responsibility and title they have.
And therein lies another lesson of this pendulous analogy. To be part of the true church is to be both an individual and a part of the family. It is to be a son or a daughter (singular pronouns) while recognizing that we are also brothers and sisters (plural pronouns). It is to sit down for the family meal and not just hope we gain strength and energy (mercy and grace) as if it were by sheer osmosis - being around others who seem to be doing the right things. But rather, it is to sit down at the family feast, ladle heaping portions onto our brother’s plate, and then consume our own allotment of bread and wine. All the while, engaging in the conversation that is always heartily shared around a common meal.
We mustn't be like ignorant teens who sit at the table only because their parents have demanded it. These adolescents can tick the box and claim that they did their duty of casting a shadow upon their placemat. But when the table is cleared and dessert is brought out, it is found that their silverware has not been soiled for they have spent the whole sup utterly oblivious to those around them. They have instead chosen to bury their head in a cellular device of false connection that serves as a thick veil to separate them from the true connection that presents itself all around them.
May it not be so when we gather as the church! May we be individuals who identify with the family of God. May we know God as our Father and those around us as our brothers and sisters. May we not bury our heads in hymnals but also teach and admonish one another in our singing. May we know what we believe and why we believe it, being always ready to give an answer for the hope we have and at the same time be firmly planted in that great invisible Church that has persisted throughout the ages by fixing our feet upon the creeds and confessions of those who have lived before us. May our ears not just perk when we hear supplication and petition for our own needs but may our spirit join in praying for those around us. May we come to the communion table with an awestruck wonder of the work Christ has done on the behalf of a sinner such as us and at the same time realize that we share in this communion as God’s covenant people. May we show up early and stay late to engage with our heaven-bound relatives, not hurriedly hobbling to our vehicles in hopes of beating everyone to the nearest lunch spot.
May we worship in the individual depths of our heart in such a way that it resounds outwardly and affects all who worship alongside us.
Footnotes:
At risk of sounding purposefully offensive and obtuse, a note should be made on the phrase “still, small voice of God.” This phrase has taken root in modern days, even being referenced by far from heretical teachers - teachers I would firmly recommend on most occasions. And, at the same time, it is also used by “teachers” I would never recommend. If both groups use the same phrase, what is the difference between the two? Just as there is a pendulum to praise there is likewise a pendulum to this theology.
In the group of instructors I am more favorable towards, my qualm with them may simply be a vocabulary discrepancy. What they would suggest is “the Holy Spirit speaking,” I would label as being led by the Spirit through the wisdom He provides. What they might delineate as the “Spirit’s impression,” I would call the result of the believer who is continually being filled with the Spirit and yielding to the fruit of such an effect. I choose not to use the phrase “God speaking” or “the Spirit whispering through a still, small voice” so as not to obscure the uniqueness of God’s more sure Word - the prophetic Word more fully confirmed - what we know as the sixty-six canonical books of Scripture.
If you believe that “God speaks in a still, small voice,” I would simply ask you what you mean and we might end up in similar positions. What you may call “speaking” or “a unique impression,” I would simply call the Spirit’s leading (but not in a uniquely vocalized way as I believe God speaks through His Word.)
Of course another group, that which I am less favorable of, seems to expect a unique revelation from God for every major and minute decision in life. This is the extreme I reference being at the apex of individualism. This understanding of the “still, small voice” has believers sitting in meditative silence (or with soaking music - a newly produced genre that has sprung up in present days). In the stillness of the moment, they expect to hear an internal, clear voice that will give them direction on whichever question they decide to ask this mystical magic eight-ball.
I would simply argue that the mountain top Elijahian experience they reference firstly, included an audible, external voice speaking to the prophet and, secondly, was not inscripturated to communicate that this should be the normal expectation for all Christians throughout history.
