A New Way to Worship

By Lisa Fitts
By Herbert Yoo
By Cymone Canada
By Dave Grogan
By Arnie Fenton
By Dan Millner
By Alex Joseph
By Samantha Harton
By Bailey Catone
By Colin Campbell
By Barb Harris
By Mark Mercer
By Sereena Bexley
By Vennecia Jackson
By Mary Lata Thottukadavil
By Michael Agnew
By Kristie Davis
By AJ Jerkins
By Caroline Smiley
By Kathy Whitthorne
By Dawn Johnson
By DJ Newman
By Mary Weyand
By Rob Nickell
By Kathy Whitthorne
By Nila Odom
By Sherene Joseph Rajadurai
By Kristi Sheffy
By Sharon Arrington
By Sarah Crawford
By Betsy Paul
By Angel Piña
By Elizabeth Piña
By Chris Kuykendall
By Matt Holland
By Jessie Yearwood
By Brian Severski
By Brian Arrington
By Will Meier
By Clint Calhoun
By Jen Mayes
By Jim Henry
By Kevin Harwood
By Leah Vanhorn
By Janett Miller
By Isaac Harris
By Chad Golden
By Jonathan Cortina
By Kuruvilla (K.O.) Oommen
By John Dyer
By Abe Paul
By Lauren Geppert
By Jennifer Durrett
By Jill Asibelua
By Jared Barnett
By Paul Martin
By Norm Headlam
By Kristi Herring
By Sissy Mathew
By Shannon Pugh
By Al Palamara
By Michelle Garza
By Armando Galvan
By Camille Holland
By Rod Myers
By Crystal Elwell
By Darcy Peterson
By Jason Elwell
By Barry Jones
By Bryan Eck
By Tricia Kinsman
By Craig Pierce
By Jim Woodward
By Andy McQuitty
By Kevin Dial
By Corbin Pierce
By Claire St. Amant
By Julie K. Rhodes
By Anonymous
By Jasmine Bibbs
By Debra Fournerat
By Kat Armstrong
By Jeffery Link
By Courtney Faucett
By Lenae Moore
By Tiffany Stein
By Andy Webb
By Catherine Boyle
By Catherine & Elizabeth Downing
By Gerald Ridgway
By Jill Hoenig
By Sunitha John
By Tarrin Henry
By RozeLee Rugh
By Beverly Hogan
By Kendra Cordero
By Lisa Gajewski
By Bonnie Goree
By Young-Sam Won
By Chris Beach
By Tom Rugh
By Nick Vuicich
By Andy Franks
By Lead Team
By Jason Roszhart
By Harvard Medical School
By Justin K. Hughes, MA, LPC
By Sherene Joseph
By Earl Davidson
By Rebecca Perry
By Joe Padilla
By Christian Melendez
By Bruce Riley
By Isaac Harris
By Amy Leadabrand
By Ben Haile
By Shaun Robinson
By Natalie Franks
By Cathy Barnett
By Ryan Sanders
By Casey Pruet, The Grace Alliance
By Sharon Arrington
By Lauren Chapin
By Betsy Paul
By Alberto Negron
By Kelly Jarrell
By Michelle Mayes
By Jenn Wright
By Jill Jackson
By Terri Moore
By Robyn Wise
By Katherine Holloway
By Richard Ray
By Kurtlery Knight
By Bruce Hebel
By Neil Tomba
By Tony Bridwell
By Grayson McGovern
By Luke Donohoo
By Kathy Whitthorne
By Mike Moore
By Wade Raper
By Mike Gwartney
By Jo Saxton
By Dieula Previlon
By Jonathan Cude
By Ken Lawrence
By Jay Hohfeler
By Barb Haesecke
By Lindsay Casillas
By JoAnn Hummel
By Shawn Small
By Alice McQuitty
By Jonathan Murphy
By Peggy Norton
By Brent McKinney
By Irving Bible Church
By Irving Bible Church
By Ashley Tieperman
By Betsy Nichols
By Trey Grant
By Debbie Lucien
By Sue Edwards
By Suzie Robinson
By Paul Smith

Before we can really talk about worship, there’s one idea we all need to grab ahold of: we are all worshipers. It’s not a question of if we will worship, but rather a question of what or who we will worship. Ralph Waldo Emerson said it this way:

A person will worship something, have no doubt about that. We may think our tribute is paid in secret in the dark recesses of our hearts, but it will come out. That which dominates our imaginations and our thoughts will determine our lives, and our character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping, we are becoming.Ralph Waldo Emerson

I worship. You worship. Everyone you know worships someone or something. And this isn’t a new phenomenon either—humans beings have always been worshipers. It’s almost like we were created that way.

So let’s talk about worship. In fact, let’s begin with worship in the ancient world.


In the ancient world, the specifics of religions varied along family, village, tribe, and regional lines, but worship tended to follow a pattern. An ancient worshiper would prepare an offering, a sacrifice—perhaps a portion of the farmer’s harvest, some wine from the vineyard, or maybe a lamb culled from the flock—and then the worshiper would take the sacrifice to a sacred place. This sacred place could’ve been a household shrine, a local temple, or a special altar outside of town, but whatever the case, the worshiper would take the sacrifice to the sacred place, offer it to their god, hope the god would look favorably on this offering, and then leave the sacred place hoping to receive the god’s mercy in the form of better circumstances—fertility, the upcoming harvest, or a war on the horizon. So that pattern of worship throughout the ancient world looked like this: First, I initiate an interaction with my god through worship, the climax of which is the sacrifice I offer. Then, I hope my god sees my sacrifice and responds by being merciful and improving my circumstances

I offer a sacrifice, and then hope to see my god’s mercy.


It’s in the midst of this kind of worshiping culture that the Apostle Paul wrote a long letter to the community of Christians in 1st-century Rome. Amid temples where people worshiped the Roman pantheon of gods, past the Coliseum where people worshiped celebrity and entertainment, beyond the brothels where people worshiped sex, the Senate where people worshiped power, and the academies where people worshiped knowledge, there was a community of people who were called and compelled to worship Jesus.

And so Paul writes them this letter, and even though they’re already missionary disciples of Jesus, Paul declares he’s eager to come and preach the gospel to them. And in fact he doesn’t wait for a visit, he begins to preach the gospel to them in this letter we call Romans. In the letter he talks about the brokenness we all carry, and how that brokenness separates us from God. In our sin we stand unrighteous and condemned, dead in our rebellion and alienated from the God who created us in his grace and power. But there is a righteousness to be had, he says, and it comes through faith in Jesus Christ our Lord. We “are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus,” he says in Chapter 3. In fact, he goes on to say—and remember the world in which his first readers would’ve heard this—“God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood— to be received by faith” (Romans 3:25).

In subsequent chapters Paul dives deeper into the new life we have in Christ—not because of what we’ve done, but because of what Jesus has done as our substitute and champion, our redeemer and restorer. Paul wants his readers to see the goodness and grace and power of the God who is able to rescue and renew the lost and broken. He liberates captives. He breathes new life into the dead. He calls us his children. In a world so formed by the pattern of offering sacrifices and hoping for mercy, Paul wants them to see the profoundly different and breathtakingly beautiful story of Jesus, and so over the course of this letter he tells them. 

And having born witness to what God has done on our behalf—what we could never do for ourselves through sacrifice or trying harder or performing well—Paul begins to talk about our response. Everything he’s covered in the first two-thirds of letter—our need for God, the saving work of Jesus, and our new life in the Spirit—leads Paul to a conclusion. And so he begins with the word, “Therefore.”

    Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God— this is your true and proper worship. Romans 12:1


Do you remember the pattern of worship at work in the ancient world? I offer a sacrifice, and then hope to see my god’s mercy.

Compare that pattern to the word of God in Romans 12:1 again:

    Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to off er your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God— this is your true and proper worship. 

It’s a complete reversal. In this new humanity God is forming in the church, in the story of Jesus, worship has forever changed. 

See, we don't worship and hope to earn God’s mercy; we view God's mercy and it moves us to worship. Worship is never the first word, it’s simply our response to what God has done. God has spoken first. He spoke the world into existence. By his word we have light and life and breath, and his Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. And that flesh was pressed against the least and the lost, the sick and the scandalous, the overlooked and the outcast. And that flesh was bruised and torn, nailed to a cross, absorbing our sin and the shame—“a sacrifice of atonement,” Paul called it. The perfect embodiment of God’s mercy. And this mercy moves us to worship him in response. And it’s not that we merely worship him in the mix of our personal pantheon of gods and idols—no, in view of this mercy, we worship him alone. We don’t offer a piece of ourselves—we offer our whole selves. As long as we live, we worship as living sacrifices.

In our worship center at IBC, a cross serves as our focal point. It’s there to remind us of God’s mercy and Jesus’ death on our behalf. It’s there to remind our hearts that we come to this place to worship because God first drew near to us in Jesus. When you enter that place each week, take a moment to reflect on the cross and God’s great mercy toward us. And in view of this mercy, we offer our bodies, our very lives, as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. This is our true and proper worship.

In the ancient world, in me-centered worship, you act first. You offer your sacrifice and pray to your god, “In view of my sacrifice, respond in mercy toward me.” The invitation of the Jesus story, to anyone who would be his disciple is the exact opposite: “In view of God’s mercy, respond with a sacrifice.” And our sacrifice is not a dead or inanimate object, but our very selves.

In our new discipleship experience, Foundation, we define Christian worship is our practice of directing our attention and our affection toward God. We direct our attention toward God, we view his mercy, we remember his story, and we celebrate his character. In response we offer ourselves to him, we surrender our will to his, and his love for us ignites in us love for him.

We are all worshipers. I worship. You worship. It’s not a question of if we will worship, but rather a question of what or who. The invitation to all of us is view the mercy of God on display in his story, the gospel, and to respond in worship. Not with mere words or lifeless sacrifices, but with ourselves—our lives, our loves, our rhythms, our desires, our work, our relationships, our compassion toward and availability to our neighbors. We offer ourselves as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. As missionary disciples, this is our true and proper worship.

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