For most of my life, I participated in liturgy before I really understood what liturgy was.
When I heard the word liturgy, my mind naturally leaned toward traditional forms of worship, the kind of structured worship I experienced growing up Catholic. Yet as I have studied worship more intentionally, I have begun recognizing something important: liturgy is not limited to churches with robes, candles, sacraments, or ancient traditions.
Every church has patterns.
Every congregation develops practices that shape how people approach God.
And sometimes, we participate in those patterns for years before realizing how deeply they are forming us.
Growing Up in a World of Reverence
My earliest experiences with Christian worship came through Catholicism.
The worship environment emphasized reverence and order. Scripture was read. Prayers were offered. Music accompanied the congregation. The Eucharist occupied an important place in worship. Symbols, movements, candles, holy water, and other practices communicated that worship was something sacred.
There was an order to what happened.
Even the physical movements within the service communicated something. The priest’s movement toward the altar, the participation of those assisting him, congregational responses, and the celebration of the Eucharist all contributed to the experience of worship.
As a child, I wasn’t analyzing these things theologically.
I was simply experiencing them.
Looking back, however, I can see that these practices were teaching me something about reverence, community, sacredness, and the importance of approaching God intentionally.
Then my Christian journey entered a very different worship world.
Encountering Pentecostal Worship
During my high school years, I moved from my Catholic upbringing into Christianity within a Pentecostal environment, particularly the Assemblies of God.
The transition was significant.
Suddenly, I encountered people lifting their hands in worship. I saw people bowing at altars. I heard speaking in tongues. Music was contemporary and production-oriented. Worship seemed to allow significantly more freedom of expression than what I had experienced growing up.
At first, these differences were striking.
Yet something I now recognize is that Pentecostal worship still had an order.
There was worship. There was giving. There was preaching. There were opportunities to respond to the gospel. Communion was practiced. The service was structured, but within that structure there was room for freedom and personal response.
That realization has challenged one of the assumptions I previously carried about liturgy.
Structure and freedom do not necessarily have to oppose one another.
A worship service can have an intentional order while still creating room for people to respond personally to God.
When Music Becomes More Than Music
Music also became an important difference between these worship experiences.
I had experienced congregational music within Catholic worship, but Pentecostal worship introduced me to another dimension of how music could function within a service.
Music wasn’t simply something happening before the sermon.
The words being sung could help direct the congregation’s attention toward God. Worship leaders could help prepare people to reflect, respond, pray, and become more aware of God’s presence.
That has helped me think differently about the role of music in worship.
Music can participate in the spiritual formation of a congregation.
What we repeatedly sing about God can influence how we understand Him. What we sing about surrender, grace, holiness, salvation, and faith can eventually become part of the theological vocabulary through which we understand our relationship with God.
Worship music, therefore, is not merely preparation for something more important.
It is itself part of the worshiping life of the Church.
Where I Worship Today
Today, I worship and serve at Mission City Church, a contemporary non-denominational church whose worship environment has many similarities to my Pentecostal roots.
Our services normally include worship, prayer, giving, preaching, and altar ministry. We celebrate communion monthly. There are also occasions when people experiencing sickness or medical difficulties are prayed for through laying on of hands and anointing with oil.
What I particularly appreciate is the personal dimension of these practices.
There is something meaningful about praying for another person rather than merely acknowledging that prayer matters. There is something meaningful about creating moments where people can reflect on what God may be doing in their lives.
These practices connect worship with the mission of the church.
If our mission involves helping people encounter Jesus, then the way we worship should participate in that mission.
Prayer matters.
Preaching matters.
Music matters.
Communion matters.
The opportunity to respond matters.
They are not simply pieces of a Sunday schedule. Together, they help shape how a congregation encounters God and understands what it means to follow Him.
A Journey Between Two Worlds
Looking back, I can appreciate aspects of both worship worlds that have shaped me.
My Catholic upbringing exposed me to reverence, order, symbolism, Scripture, sacrament, prayer, and communal participation.
My Pentecostal formation introduced me to expressive worship, altar response, spiritual gifts, contemporary worship music, and an expectation that people could actively encounter God during congregational worship.
My present church experience continues to shape how I understand these things.
I no longer think the most important question is simply whether worship is traditional or contemporary.
A deeper question is:
What are our worship practices teaching people about God?
Every repeated practice communicates something.
The songs we sing communicate something.
The way we pray communicates something.
The way we preach communicates something.
The way we approach Communion communicates something.
Even the way we invite people to respond communicates something about what we believe God is doing among His people.
Learning the Language for What I Already Experienced
I am still learning about liturgy.
In fact, one of the most valuable realizations from studying worship has been recognizing how much I have experienced without necessarily having the theological vocabulary to explain it.
I knew what it was like to experience structured worship.
I knew what it was like to experience expressive worship.
I knew Eucharist and Communion.
I knew congregational singing.
I knew preaching.
I knew prayer.
I knew altar calls.
I knew what it was like to watch people seek an encounter with God.
What I didn’t always recognize was how all these practices fit together and shape the worshiping life of a congregation.
Perhaps that is one of the gifts of theological education.
Sometimes theological study introduces us to something completely new.
Other times, it finally gives us words for something God has allowed us to experience for years.
You may participate in liturgy long before you learn to call it liturgy.
