Evangelicals and the "work of the people"

I'm not really sure what to make of Fred Sanders's latest post at Evangel. But it would appear he is expressing a sentiment, shared by a growing number of evangelicals of the "free church" persuasion, that something is missing on Sunday morning.

The big question for me is, how does a church send the signal to its Sunday morning congregation that it is serious about what it’s doing?

As a free church evangelical in suburban southern California, I participate in the general trend of casual service-openers. I think it’s a great, culturally appropriate way to start out a gathering. I suppose we could bang a gong, or plunge the sanctuary into darkness, or bring up the music to a dramatic opening. But it seems more normal and natural for somebody to go up front and say nice human things like “Hello” and “Welcome” and “Have a seat, let’s get started.” That’s how the indigenous peoples talk in my country, and that’s how church starts.

But here’s the key: At some point in the service, and it has to be a pretty early point, one of the ministers presiding over the worship service needs to get our attention and let us know that we’re doing a very serious thing. We’re going to worship God together. We’re going to hear his word proclaimed and applied. We’re going to place ourselves under the authority of that word and take the consequences of admitting we are not our own. We’re going to pray with one another, to try to say and hear the things we most need to say and hear. The prophet Isaiah is going to shout at us from across the centuries! The apostles are going to tell us what they saw and heard and touched! God himself will speak through his own holy word.

This is church! We’re not messing around.

Happily low churchy guy that I am, I am always straining my ears to hear the modern version of the ancient anaphora, the Sursum Corda, the pastor’s call to the congregation to “Lift up your hearts!” It doesn’t usually happen in the first sixty seconds in the kind of church I’m at home in. It usually waits. First we say some normal, hospitality-minded words of welcome; and then some normal, information-distributing words of announcements; and maybe even some normal, defenses-lowering words of casual friendliness. Maybe even a joke, maybe even a quick reference to current events.

But the Sursum Corda‘s coming. One of the pastors is going to do something to send the signal that we are approaching the holy. There will be some summons, some expression of an intentional elevation of our minds and hearts to consider the things above, where Christ sits at the right hand of the Father. And when that happens, we all know we’re officially having church.

There is a fine line between "low church" and "free church," and I'm afraid there are a good number of "happily low churchy" evangelicals who are, in reality, "miserably free churchy" but have no understanding of the historical meaning behind either term. Neither have they a proper understanding of the meaning of the word "liturgy," dismissing it as suggestive of dull ritual and priestly chatter.

"Liturgy" means, literally, "work of the people." A true liturgy involves the whole congregation's active participation in worship. It is dialogical, not monological. The traditional form of the Sursum Corda is a case in point.

The Lord be with you.
And also with you.
Lift up your hearts.
We lift them to the Lord.
Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is encouraging that Sanders and other free church evangelicals are expressing such appreciation for this one particular "ancient anaphora" (although, actually, the "anaphora" is the Eucharistic Prayer, the Sursum Corda being the opening antiphon, but we'll cut him a little slack this time). It is, after all, the very portion of the liturgy which invites the worshipers to lift their hearts heavenward and, thus, be drawn into the very presence of God. Can the Sanctus, Anamnesis, and Epiclesis be far behind?