The Divine Must
John 4:19-24
The Divine “Must”
“Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”
Jesus declared, “Believe me, woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth.”
G |
od seeks worshippers, not worship! Contemporary Christians miss the mark when they exalt worship, not understanding that the Father seeks worshippers. Jesus attests that the Father seeks a relationship with worshippers and not an act. A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth [John 4:23, 24].
There are three musts in John’s Gospel. The first is the must of salvation. Jesus said, You must be born again [John 3:7]. The second must is the must of divine sacrifice. Jesus said, Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up [John 3:14]. The final must is that found in our text as Jesus informed the Samaritan woman that God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth [John 4:24].
God Seeks Worshippers. Christianity is a relational Faith. The Faith consists, not of liturgies, but is rather defined by the most intimate of relationships. Though many attempt to reduce to the Faith to cant and creed, to rite and ritual, the essence of Christianity is the tender relationship of a loving Father with those who have been born into His Family. If you grasp nothing else from the message this day, I urge you to seize upon this singular truth which defines the Faith as a relationship between God and those who love Him. Merely reciting the perfections of our God is neither worship nor can it lead to worship; it is the revelation of His glorious Person which leads us to worship.
Indulge me, please, as I provide a brief excursus through the language Jesus used. The verb worship is a translation of the Greek term proskunevw. Worshippers translates the Greek noun proskunhthv". Originally, the verb proskunevw meant to kiss. Ancient Greek cult worshippers worshipped the earth, so they were compelled to kneel down to kiss the earth. Thus, in time the term spoke of kneeling before the gods. Eventually, the term spoke of adoration. As worshippers prostrated themselves, the word proskunevw came to speak of the inward attitude of reverence and humility. The noun proskunhthv" occurs only in this passage in the New Testament.
According to the Samaritan Pentateuch, Joshua was instructed to build a shrine on Mount Gerazim [see Deuteronomy 27:4]. This was so important to the Samaritans that they made this command a part of their Decalogue. Thus, the Samaritans were convinced that worship could be offered only on “their mountain,” much as the Jews had become convinced that only in the Jerusalem Temple could worship be offered to God. Both were focused on the act of worship.
Jesus deliberately turns this woman’s vision from the act to the relationship. Believe me, woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem [John 4:21]. Mere custom, mere ritual, mindless observance of a liturgy (whether written in precise language or understood through common custom) can never be substituted for relationship and thus can never be construed as worship.
This woman was focused on location as the essence of worship. The issue of worship is not an issue of locality—it is an issue of relationship. There are people who cannot worship unless they are in a building with august pillars bracketing the doors, or with a great spire pointing to the skies, or with lovely stained glass windows. Others can worship only with an organ for accompaniment.
I began one church in a funeral home. The move was appropriate as business had been going under for years. Business was dead for them and a church brought a measure of life to the building. Nevertheless, many people would not worship with us since we were in a funeral home and not in a “church.” Worship is not an issue of locality.
Worship is not dependent upon the physical aspects of our being. Just because you have occupied a seat in a church building on a Sunday morning, or because you have sung a hymn or lit a candle or performed a rite does not mean that you have worshipped. Worship must not be confused with the particular acts one does on a Sunday morning. Just because you lifted your hands, swayed to the music with your eyes closed, or even burst out in some unlearned sounds which you insisted were tongues does not mean that you have worshipped. Witch doctors experience trances and speak in tongues!
Neither must we confuse worship with feelings, for worship does not originate within the soul. It may be true that the emotions are stirred in worship. At times tears fill our eyes or we are happy, but emotions are the remnants of worship and not worship itself. Tears may stream down our face without worship ever occurring. We may be exceptionally happy without worshipping the True and Living God. It is possible to be moved by a song or by rhetoric and yet fail to come to a genuine awareness of God.
To worship, one must get down to the deepest aspect of personality—spirit and truth. There must be honesty. There must be reality. True worship occurs when the spirit of an individual meets God and discovers itself praising Him for His love, wisdom, beauty, truth, holiness, compassion, grace, mercy, power and all His other attributes.
William Barclay has written of worship:
Genuine worship does not consist in coming to a certain place nor in going through a certain ritual or liturgy nor even in bringing certain gifts. True worship is when the spirit, the immortal and invisible part of man, speaks to and meets with God, Himself immortal and invisible.[1]
I said in a previous message that much of what we think of as worship is too frequently nothing more than glorified preference. What we call worship is often merely an issue of preference. Whether we enjoy a printed liturgy or extemporaneous prayers, whether we prefer hymns or choruses, whether we seek congregational responses or silence, is a matter of preference. C. S. Lewis wrote of this issue, pleading against what he called “novelty” and asking us to focus on God.
As long as you notice, and have to count the steps, you are not yet dancing but only learning to dance. A good shoe is a shoe you don’t notice. Good reading becomes possible when you need not consciously think about eyes, or light, or print, or spelling. The perfect church service would be one we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been on God.[2]
Herein lies the heart of Jesus’ teaching, what I believe is the essence of worship. A time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth [John 4:23, 24]. God, the Creator, seeks relationship with man, the creature. God seeks to share His very being with man, and the manner in which this sharing is to be accomplished is through worship—praising God and glorifying His Name. This is ascribing worth to God, which is the philological root of our word worship.
Worshippers Worship in Spirit. God is Spirit. Jesus does not suggest by this assertion that God is one spirit among many spirits. Neither does He suggest that God is incorporeal in the Stoic sense, nor that spirit defines His metaphysical properties. Spirit characterises what God is like.[3] Flesh, location, corporeality characterises mankind and the world in which man lives. God is invisible, divine and not human, life giving and unknowable to humans unless He chooses to reveal Himself. As God is light [1 John 1:5] and as God is love [1 John 4:8], so God is Spirit. This is the manner in which God chooses to reveal Himself to mankind, and He has done so in the Person of His Son.
Worship will no longer be defined by an action nor restricted to a location. Worship will be in an unseen realm which is nonetheless real. Worship will be offered to God as those who are known by Him praise Him and magnify His Name. But just what does it mean to worship in spirit.
It is necessary, due to poor exegesis among contemporary authors, to point out a neglected truth. There is no definite article attached to either the word spirit or to the word truth. Thus, we are confident that Jesus is not referring to motivation by the Holy Spirit when He instructs this woman. This is not to say that worship is not to be energised by the Spirit of God, nor does it negate the fact that worship is initiated by God’s Holy Spirit residing within the people of God. It simply means that He is focused on an aspect necessary for true worship to occur and which to this point was neglected. Worship in spirit speaks of man meeting God who is immortal and invisible. Two truths related to this worship in spirit must be noted.
Those who worship in Spirit are born from above. Those who worship in spirit must be born from above. The spirit of natural man is dead. Those words which Paul wrote are difficult to accept. As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath [Ephesians 2:1-3].
Jesus had spoken to a religious leader named Nicodemus prior to this journey through Samaria. Nicodemus was informed to his great surprise of the necessity of being born again, or more literally born from above [cf. John 3:3, 7 a[nwqen]. To be born from above is to be quickened as the spirit is made new. This is the message arising from the sad news of spiritual death which Paul hastened to include in His Ephesian letter.
Because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast [Ephesians 2:4-9].
Man is a tripartite being. That is, man is defined by three distinct parameters. Man is flesh—we have a body. However, even the most ardent agnostic does not insist that the body is the sum of man. Though we are deeply attached to these temporary habitations, we know intuitively that we are more than mere limbs and organs, or as the poet has said, “a hank of hair and a piece of bone.”
Man is also defined as an emotional and intellectual being. Perhaps after dealing with some governmental functionary you question whether all mankind is intellectual. Nevertheless, man has a soul. God created man a living soul [Genesis 2:7 nasv hY:j' vp,n<]. Man relates to man at an emotional/intellectual level. While it is true that all animals have the breath of life within them, man alone is defined as having received the breath of the Divine as God breathed into our first father the breath of life.
Man is also a spiritual being. Man was created to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever, but as result of the Fall of our first parents, man is now spiritually dead. Man cannot know God, cannot enjoy God, cannot hear the voice of God, until his spirit is made new through the new birth. Man can be religious—and many individuals are exceptionally religious—but man can neither worship God nor even know God until He has been born anew and into the Family of God. This is the essence of the Good News of salvation which defines the Christian Faith.
With the Fall of our first parents, the race was plunged into the physical realm and excluded from spiritual intercourse. Prior to disobedience, Adam had walked with God in the Garden—had enjoyed sweet communion with Him. Following the Fall, Adam was afraid of God and sought to avoid Him. He was driven from the Garden in part to keep him from eating of the tree of life and thus be consigned to a living death. As sweet as this life seems when we are at the peak of youthful strength, it becomes a burden at the last. It would be a living hell to think that we must endure eternally as dying creatures.
When one is saved, his spirit is made new and his soul is redeemed from death. The Spirit of God takes up residence in the life of that individual and the presence of God’s Spirit is the promissory note for the renewal of the body. Perhaps this will be clearer through considering the words of the Apostle. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. So it is written: “The first man Adam became a living being”; the last Adam, a life-giving spirit. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The first man was of the dust of the earth, the second man from heaven. As was the earthly man, so are those who are of the earth; and as is the man from heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. And just as we have borne the likeness of the earthly man, so shall we bear the likeness of the man from heaven.
I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory” [1 Corinthians 15:44b-54].
It is an impossibility to worship until one is born into the Family of God. Though it is possible to stimulate the emotions and even to challenge the intellect, worship is impossible until one is made alive in the Spirit. On any given Sunday there are people sharing our worship who are attempting to do the impossible—worship. Their efforts are futile, not because God is unwilling to receive worship, but because such individuals have yet to be born into the Family of God. God is abundantly clear on this particular subject, for He has rejected the worship of those without vital relationship to Himself.
The LORD detests the sacrifice of the wicked,
but the prayer of the upright pleases him.
…
The LORD is far from the wicked
but he hears the prayer of the righteous.
[Proverbs 15:8, 29]
The sacrifice of the wicked is detestable!
[Proverbs 21:27]
Those who worship in Spirit seek God. Worship is the ascription of praise to God as the true worshipper discovers the character of God. As the divine attributes successively come into view, the one worshipping in spirit marvels and gives glory to God. It is fascinating to me to fast forward and see the efforts of worshippers in Heaven to praise God. Listen to some of that worship.
First, the cherubs sing their great antiphonal song.
Holy, holy, holy
is the Lord God Almighty,
who was, and is, and is to come.
The church responds to the praise of the angles and bursts into a swelling anthem of praise to God.
You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honour and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created
and have their being.
[Revelation 4:8, 11].
All Heaven—both men and angels—sings praises to the Lamb as the Father delivers the Kingdom to Him.
You are worthy to take the scroll
and to open its seals,
because you were slain,
and with your blood you purchased men for God
from every tribe and language and people and nation.
You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God,
and they will reign on the earth.
The angels in Heaven, both cherubs and seraphs, lift their voices to glorify the Son of God, the King of Glory.
Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
and honour and glory and praise!
When they sing, the whole of creation responds.
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honour and glory and power,
forever and ever!
[Revelation 5:9, 10, 12, 13].
Perhaps we should learn these songs now! What I wish you to see are the unceasing efforts of all creation to praise God. Since He is infinite, their praise is also infinite.
In Heaven, the redeemed seek God. They seek to be in His presence and to see His face. This is so unlike our experience in the flesh. When Adam sinned, he attempted to hide from God. The man and his wife heard the sound of the LORD God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the LORD God among the trees of the garden. But the LORD God called to the man, “Where are you?”
He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid” [Genesis 3:8-10].
Now the response of the flesh is to endeavour to hide from God, but those who worship in spirit seek God. At once there is a sense of terror, since we come into the presence of One that can only be described as Other, overcome by deep desire. We are drawn by the knowledge that we will be received graciously; we are repelled because we know that we are sinful creatures. It is only by His grace that we can even seek His face.
I found a delightful description of this seeking God in a most unusual place. Years ago I read Kenneth Grahame’s delight story The Wind in the Willows to my children. A portion of that children’s story speaks to this issue of worship. Indulge me as I read a portion of the account as Mole and Rat attempt to find little Portly, the Otter child. As they row along the watercourse, Rat hears something and finds himself transfixed by the beauty of what he hears. I pick up the account at this point.
“It's gone!” sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. “So beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!” he cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space, spellbound.
“Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,” he said presently. “O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us.”
The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. “I hear nothing myself,” he said, “but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.”
The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.
In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the river divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a slight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines, directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light gained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that gemmed the water's edge.
“Clearer and nearer still,” cried the Rat joyously. “Now you must surely hear it! Ah—at last—I see you do!”
Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed his head and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purple loose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summons that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its will on Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grew steadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at the approach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellously still.
On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow herb so riotous, the meadow sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely awaited their expedition.
A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shoulders of green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank to bank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floating foam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothing rumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir's shimmering arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow and silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hid whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour should come, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.
Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. In silence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbage and undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood on a little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature's own orchard-trees—crab-apple, wild cherry, and sloe.
“This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,” whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. “Here, in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!”
Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror—indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy—but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend, and saw him at his side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.
Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humorously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.
“Rat!” he found breath to whisper, shaking. “Are you afraid?”
“Afraid?” murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. “Afraid! Of HIM? O, never, never! And yet—and yet—O, Mole, I am afraid!”
Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship.
Sudden and magnificent, the sun's broad golden disc showed itself over the horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the level water-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. When they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the air was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.
As they stared blankly, in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and light-hearted as before.[4]
I cannot help but think this passage was written by one who sought and found the face of God. Oh, that all His people would worship in spirit on each occasion that they gathered. This I know, His worshippers must worship in spirit.
Worshippers Worship in Truth. We must also realise that His worshippers must worship in truth. The preposition in which occurs in both verses twenty-three and twenty-four, governs both nouns. We are not to focus on two separate aspects of worship, for worship embraces both spirit and truth. Nevertheless, because of the limitation of language, I am compelled to address each noun in turn. What does it mean to worship in truth? How may we truly worship in truth?
In one sense, we need no instruction if we have been born into the Family of God. Worship is the spontaneous response of the redeemed to the presence of God. Therefore, we of necessity will worship in truth when God reveals Himself to us. However, we may discover something of the divine as we explore the meaning of the Word of God.
Those who worship in truth worship truthfully. Worshippers who worship God worship honestly or wholeheartedly. There is no thought of worship simply because it is Sunday and they have a duty to perform. If you came this day with a view to doing your duty you will not likely worship. You will merely perform a ritual and then continue without giving further thought to what you have attempted to do.
Those who worship in truth avoid displeasing God as did those religious leaders whom the Lord condemned in Matthew 15:8, 9.
These people honour me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.
They worship me in vain;
their teachings are but rules taught by men.
According to Jesus, no worship is true worship unless there is an honesty of heart on the part of the worshipper. We must not pretend to worship. We must worship truthfully, knowing that our hearts are open books before the Lord our God.
Those who worship in truth worship on the basis of biblical revelation. In worship, we are giving God the praise and the glory which are rightfully His. As each divine attribute is revealed we marvel and stand in awe. The way in which we discover these divine characteristics of the Lord our God is through His revelation which He has given in the Word. In the passage from Matthew which I just cited, Jesus condemned the religious leaders of His day because their teachings were but rules taught by men.
We may either present our best thoughts on the great issues of life, or we may submit to the Word of God as we seek the mind of God. Worship in truth demands that we worship in accord with the principles revealed in the Book. One of the great dangers of any liturgy is that with the passage of time people begin to rely upon performance instead of the truth which first lay behind the particular performance. After a long while, the encrustation of tradition obscures the brilliance of the glory of God.
The Word of God is to be central to all worship. The teaching of the Word is to be prominent in all endeavours leading toward worship. What I think, what you think, what some great commentator thinks, is of no importance to the issue of worship. God alone is the object of worship and His Word directs us truthfully into worship.
Should we build a new church building at some future date, I have some thoughts which I consider most important. I wish the pulpit to be central to the main auditorium. It seems an abomination to me to have the pulpit situated to the side of the auditorium or to have the altar situated other than in the centre of the line of vision. Let the Word—both as it is read and as it is preached—remain central to all that is done.
Of course, if we are to worship in truth, Jesus will be central to our worship. Jesus said, I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me [John 14:6]. This teaching is difficult for the natural man to accept
, but it precisely because it is difficult that God takes such pains to ensure that all who draw near will know that the approach to the Father must be through the Son. James Boice points out this truth by pointing to the instructions given to Moses for the design of the Tabernacle.
What was the original tabernacle? It was not an edifice of great beauty or permanence. It had no stained-glass windows, no great arches. It was made of pieces of wood and animal skins. Nevertheless, every part of it was significant. The tabernacle taught the way to God. Take that tabernacle with its altar for sacrifice, its laver for cleansing, its Holy Place, and its Holy of Holies, and you have a perfect illustration of how a person must approach God. The altar, which is the first thing we come to, is the cross of Christ. It was given to teach that without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sins and to direct attention to the Lamb of God who should come to take away the sins of the world. The laver, which comes next, is a picture of cleansing, which Christ also provides when we confess our sins and enter into fellowship with him. The table of shewbread, which was within the Holy Place, speaks of Christ as the bread of life. The altar of incense is a picture of prayer, for we grow by prayer as well as by feeding on Christ in Bible study. Behind the altar of incense was the great veil, dividing the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies. This was the veil torn in two at the moment of Christ’s death to demonstrate that his death was the fulfilment of all those figures and the basis of the fullness of approach to the Almighty. Finally, within the Holy of Holies was the Ark of the Covenant with its mercy seat upon which the high priest placed the blood of the lamb once a year on the Day of Atonement. There, symbolised by the space above the mercy seat, was the presence of God into whose presence we can now come because of the great mercy of God revealed in the death of Christ for us.[5]
The wonder of Christian worship is that when we approach God in the manner He has established, we find Him inexhaustible. As we approach God in spirit and in truth, we discover that our desire to know and worship Him grows ever stronger. I have no doubt that this is one great, crying need of the churches of our day. I am quite certain that this is a great need for each of us within the fellowship of this congregation.
Bernard of Clairvaux was one who realised this truth. Toward the middle of the twelfth century he wrote the words of this hymn.
Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts,
Thou Fount of life, thou Light of men,
From the best bliss that earth imparts
We turn unfilled to Thee again.
We taste Thee, O thou living Bread,
And long to feast upon Thee still;
We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead,
And thirst our souls from Thee to fill.
Those who know God must worship Him in spirit and in truth. Though they may learn how to worship ever more acceptably, they are compelled to worship. Those who only know of God may endeavour to worship, but they will discover themselves fatigued by their efforts. Worship is the domain of the redeemed.
We invite all who would worship to consider the truth which God has presented in His Word which teaches us that at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. It further instructs us that God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us [Romans 5:6, 8]. We see that God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God [2 Corinthians 5:21].
The appropriate response—and the only adequate response—is to accept God’s mercy. This mercy is given to each individual who receives God’s gift of life which is in submission to Christ Jesus the Lord. The Word of God is clear in declaring that if you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved. As the Scripture says, “Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” [Romans 10:9-13]. Begin today to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever. Amen.
William Barclay has written of worship:
Genuine worship does not consist in coming to a certain place nor in going through a certain ritual or liturgy nor even in bringing certain gifts. True worship is when the spirit, the immortal and invisible part of man, speaks to and meets with God, Himself immortal and invisible.
I said in a previous message that much of what we think of as worship is too frequently in actuality glorified preference. What we call worship style is often mere preference. Whether we enjoy a printed liturgy or extemporaneous prayers, whether we prefer hymns or choruses, whether we seek congregational responses or silence, is a matter of preference. C. S. Lewis wrote of this issue, pleading against what he called “novelty” and asking us to focus on God.
As long as you notice, and have to count the steps, you are not yet dancing but only learning to dance. A good shoe is a shoe you don’t notice. Good reading becomes possible when you need not consciously think about eyes, or light, or print, or spelling. The perfect church service would be one we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been on God.
God is Spirit. Jesus does not suggest by this assertion that God is one spirit among many spirits. Neither does He suggest that God is incorporeal in the Stoic sense, nor that spirit defines His metaphysical properties. Spirit characterises what God is like. Flesh, location, corporeality characterises mankind and the world in which man lives. God is invisible, divine and not human, life giving and unknowable to humans unless He chooses to reveal Himself. As God is light [1 John 1:5] and as God is love [1 John 4:8], so God is Spirit. This is the manner in which God chooses to reveal Himself to mankind, and He has done so in the Person of His Son.
I found a delightful description of this seeking God in a most unusual place. Years ago I read Kenneth Grahame’s delight story The Wind in the Willows to my children. A portion of that children’s story speaks to this issue of worship. Indulge me as I read a portion of the account as Mole and Rat attempt to find little Portly, the Otter child. As they row along the watercourse, Rat hears something and finds himself transfixed by the beauty of what he hears. I pick up the account at this point.
“It's gone!” sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. “So beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!” he cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space, spellbound.
“Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,” he said presently. “O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us.”
The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. “I hear nothing myself,' he said, `but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.”
The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.
In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the river divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a slight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines, directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light gained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that gemmed the water's edge.
“Clearer and nearer still,” cried the Rat joyously. “Now you must surely hear it! Ah—at last—I see you do!”
Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed his head and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purple loose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summons that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its will on Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grew steadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at the approach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellously still.
On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow herb so riotous, the meadow sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely awaited their expedition.
A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shoulders of green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank to bank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floating foam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothing rumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir's shimmering arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow and silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hid whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour should come, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.
Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. In silence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbage and undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood on a little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature's own orchard-trees—crab-apple, wild cherry, and sloe.
“This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,” whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. “Here, in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!”
Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror—indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy—but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend. and saw him at his side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.
Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humorously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.
“Rat!” he found breath to whisper, shaking. “Are you afraid?”
“Afraid?” murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. “Afraid! Of HIM? O, never, never! And yet—and yet—O, Mole, I am afraid!”
Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship.
Sudden and magnificent, the sun's broad golden disc showed itself over the horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the level water-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. When they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the air was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.
As they stared blankly, in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and light-hearted as before.
What was the original tabernacle? It was not an edifice of great beauty or permanence. It had no stained-glass windows, no great arches. It was made of pieces of wood and animal skins. Nevertheless, every part of it was significant. The tabernacle taught the way to God. Take that tabernacle with its altar for sacrifice, its laver for cleansing, its Holy Place, and its Holy of Holies, and you have a perfect illustration of how a person must approach God. The altar, which is the first thing we come to, is the cross of Christ. It was given to teach that without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sins and to direct attention to the Lamb of God who should come to take away the sins of the world. The laver, which comes next, is a picture of cleansing, which Christ also provides when we confess our sins and enter into fellowship with him. The table of shewbread, which was within the Holy Place, speaks of Christ as the bread of life. The altar of incense is a picture of prayer, for we grow by prayer as well as by feeding on Christ in Bible study. Behind the altar of incense was the great veil, dividing the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies. This was the veil torn in two at the moment of Christ’s death to demonstrate that his death was the fulfilment of all those figures and the basis of the fullness of approach to the Almighty. Finally, within the Holy of Holies was the Ark of the Covenant with its mercy seat upon which the high priest placed the blood of the lamb once a year on the Day of Atonement. There, symbolised by the space above the mercy seat, was the presence of God into whose presence we can now come because of the great mercy of God revealed in the death of Christ for us.
Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts,
Thou Fount of life, thou Light of men,
From the best bliss that earth imparts
We turn unfilled to Thee again.
We taste Thee, O thou living Bread,
And long to feast upon Thee still;
We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead,
And thirst our souls from Thee to fill.
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[1] William Barclay, The Daily Study Bible: The Gospel of John, Volume 1 revised edition (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1975) 161
[2] C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1963) 4
[3] D. A. Carson, The Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991) 225
[4]Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows ( http://www.knowledgerush.com/books/wwill10.html)
[5] James Montgomery Boice, The Gospel of John: Volume 1, The Coming of the Light, John 1-4 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1985, 1999) 298-9