Why Do We Have a “Call to Worship”?
"I will sing to the Lord as long as I live,” sings the psalmist in Psalm 104. “I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.”
What an aspiration—to worship in song without ever stopping! And this is not the only place in the Bible that suggests a perpetual outpouring of praise, either. At least a half dozen other psalms say almost exactly the same thing. The author of Hebrews exhorts us to “continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God.” Paul tells us in his first letter to the church in Thessaloniki to “rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.”
Continually. Always. Without ceasing.
If we’re supposed to worship constantly, why do we start our Sunday liturgy with a call to worship? Shouldn’t we already be worshiping?
Before exploring that question, let’s back up and consider a different one: Why do we follow a liturgy in the first place?
The Function and Beauty of Liturgies
At its core, a liturgy is simply an intentional routine designed to make sure we remember and do the things we need to remember and do. Higher churches—a.k.a. “liturgical” or “sacramental” churches—follow liturgies that are formal and established, often written word for word, but even lower churches—those that prioritize a more simply structured service—generally follow some sort of liturgical rhythm: “We start with songs, then we listen to the Word of God preached, and then we go home” is a simple liturgy, but it is a liturgy.
Over the years, I have often wrestled with a sometimes painful, sometimes perplexing awareness of my inability to give God the praise He deserves. I have looked inside myself and not found a true enough perspective or deep enough vocabulary to worship God well.
Granted, I’ve had seasons where praise felt more natural, authentic, and spontaneous. I also know people who seem much more fluent in worship than I feel. But for the numb moments and the tongue-tied people, how do we participate? How do we grow?
I have grown to love liturgy as an answer to that question. A good liturgy serves two functions for someone like me (and, I’d suggest, for all of us): It guides my expression in the moment, and through habituation it shapes my nature so I find praise more natural.
Expression in the Moment
When I lack the words to praise God as He deserves, a written prayer can give me true and beautiful things to say and agree with. A hymn can give me words of praise that I couldn’t come up with on my own. Following a devotional liturgy such as the Daily Office can help me remember to ask forgiveness where I need that, to remember to thank God for His blessings, to declare His goodness.
For us as believers corporately, as the collective body of Christ, a Sunday liturgy helps us proclaim God’s goodness, spend time before Him in awe, learn about Him as He has revealed Himself in Scripture, and follow His instruction in partaking of communion.
I can also testify that in seasons when I have felt weak or discouraged, the Sunday liturgy has given me something solid to assent to and hold onto, and I have been encouraged seeing and hearing the believers around me sing and worship and just show up.
Habituation
Our words and actions shape us. When we express ourselves in the same way again and again, the words become part of our vocabulary. When we follow the same patterns of behavior repeatedly, the actions become part of our character.
I followed a liturgy for a while that included praying the ancient “Te Deum” each morning—a fifth-century or earlier Latin hymn to the Lord (I used an English translation). It’s a beautiful and exuberant song, full of joy and marvel, listing off reasons that God is great and good. One morning I was running behind and had no time for my full morning liturgy before leaving for work. In the car, I thought, “I don’t think I have the Te Deum memorized, but what if I tried to pray my own prayer following that model?” I could! I did! It was a joyful, heart-filling experience, and I was able to pray that way because the liturgy had trained me.
The Liturgical Purpose of a Call to Worship
So following the patterns of a good liturgy can shape us into praiseful, Christlike people. In a thoughtful liturgy, every component is crafted with purpose.
What, then, is the liturgical purpose of a call to worship? Why do we start our church services this way, and—to return to the question at the beginning of this essay—shouldn’t we already be worshiping?
There is a sense in which the whole purpose and perpetual action of creation is to bring glory to its Creator, and in that sense the praise of God continues unceasing. There is a sense, too, in which a life dedicated to God is an unstopping act of worship.
But whether we are young in the faith or mature saints, life can worry and distract. The mundane can crowd out the sublime. Gathering for church is a habit that refocuses our attention. The call to worship, as step one of our gathering, invites us into that reorientation.
The invitation happening weekly—regularly, repeatedly—is a feature, not a bug. We are training our hearts to use words of worship. As the work of the Spirit transforms us into the image of Christ, perpetual worship will become a hallmark of our identities—but we need practice to get there. In regular church gatherings, we praise our Creator and Savior over and over so the praise becomes part of who we are; we build up our praise muscles. In the call to worship, we cheer each other into that exercise. We invite and are invited to consciously re-enter into the ongoing worship of God so that worship becomes a little more a part of who we are.
What Makes a Good Call to Worship?
So what might a call to worship look like that accomplishes these things?
An Invitation to Turn Our Attention to God
We often arrive to church with heavy things on our minds, with distraction from the busyness of life, with our focus scattered by hectic mornings of corralling children or just getting ourselves out the door. We need a reset, to hear “this is what we’re here for. This is Who we’re here for.”
So we take time to orient ourselves, to hold still the compasses of our hearts for a moment so our needles all point north. We say, “Behold the Lamb of God!” We sing, “Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt his name together.” As a body, we point to the Lord of the universe, and say to each other and to the world, “Look!”
A Reminder of God’s Character
Part of worship is simply declaring the truth about who God is, proclaiming the essence of His character: love, beauty, justice, mercy. We want to approach the later elements of our Sunday liturgy—sitting before God in silence, hearing His Word proclaimed, partaking of the Lord’s Supper, and so on—with the truth of God’s character fresh in our ears and our hearts.
So we read together that God is a kind Father. We sing that He has done great things for His people. We marvel at His fingerprints in the beauty of creation. We proclaim these things to each other, strengthening each other’s faith. We shout and sing with the psalmist, “Come! See who God is and what He has done!”
A Call of Love from God to Us
We serve a God of invitation. “Come to me, all who are weary,” Jesus says. “Follow me,” He says elsewhere. “The Lord is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance,” Peter tells the church. And each of us needs to hear that invitation.
The invitation is not dependent on our success or merit, and we need to hear that too.
So we remind each other that God created us for fellowship with Him and “so loved the world that He sent His only begotten Son.” We sing, “Come, just as you are.” We call to each other and to the world, “Come, ye sinners, poor and needy, weak and wounded, sick and sore! Jesus ready stands to save you, full of pity joined with power.” We recite Jesus’ many words of welcome: “Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. … All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away.”
As Jesus’ body on earth, we invite. And as the Lord’s beloved children, we respond.