Believers who come humbly are still amazed by God’s grace, and that off-key singer becomes a delight to their ears. No amount of liturgical excellence or failure can add or subtract from the work of the cross. “It is finished,” is still Jesus’s effectual cry. The lengthy anecdote in the sermon without a real point only makes the humble laugh because they remember that an illustration has no power to keep Christ in His grave. Jesus is still in their midst, risen and victorious.

Woe to you, blind guides, who say, “If anyone swears by the temple, it is nothing, but if anyone swears by the gold of the temple, he is bound by his oath.” You blind fools! For which is greater, the gold or the temple that has made the gold sacred?…And whoever swears by the temple swears by it and by him who dwells in it.   

—Matthew 23:16–17, 21

 The practice Jesus condemns in the third woe of Matthew 23 appears odd, and scholars are not entirely sure why the Pharisees thought swearing by the gold of the temple was more sacred then swearing by the temple itself. In either case, the ideal is not to swear by anything at all, but to simply reply yes or no (cf., Matthew 5:37; James 5:12). Jesus is pointing out the superstition and hypocrisy of the scribes and Pharisees, who thought one object more sacred than another, as if not holding to an oath is excusable in some circumstances, depending on the ceremony involved. To further demonstrate their hypocrisy, Jesus condemns the scribes and Pharisees in the fourth woe for picking and choosing which parts of the law to observe. Unsurprisingly, they chose to emphasize minor and external precepts over more spiritual, “weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness.” The scribes and Pharisees always appeared to focus on what others could see, rather than on matters of the heart.

These woes clearly instruct believers in humility. The woes remind disciples to remain spiritually minded, focused on matters closest to God’s heart, rather than trivial, external things that can sometimes preoccupy them. Think about the last time you were critical about some aspect of a worship service. What was the criticism? Was it that the gospel was not clear? Was there a discernible lack of warmth and love within the congregation? That your own singing was half-hearted? If so, then, you are thinking spiritually and ought to pray about those matters, while also giving thanks and encouragement where things went well. However, if you are like me, you were bothered because the person in the next pew sang off-key or the preacher gave an anecdote that was a tad too long, or someone messed up a small point in the liturgy. Did I mention the weak coffee or air-conditioning? By focusing on these outward things, believers are effectively saying those things make a fine worship service. At that point, Christians begin to swear by the gold and not the temple. Believers can begin to think that if these details were fixed, the worship would have been more acceptable—at least to them. They are no longer thinking about what God wants.

What does God want when Christians come to worship? What does make their worship acceptable, besides following the basic biblical instructions concerning worship? God tells Christians what He wants at the end of David’s famous Psalm of confession, written after his great sin with Bathsheba.

For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Psalm 51:16–17)

The sacrifice God most wants is a broken and contrite heart, a needy heart that comes to worship, expecting God’s grace. That is what makes Christian worship acceptable. Micah the prophet gives the same reminder,

 “With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God? (6:6–8)

So even in the ornate sacrificial system of the Old Testament—a shadow pointing to the greater reality of Christ (cf., Colossians 2:17; Hebrews 10:1)—the emphasis was on having a spiritual mindset, of worshiping with a broken and contrite heart, and of walking humbly with God. Thousands of rams and rivers of oil cannot replace a heart humbled by grace.

In her essay, “Holy the Firm,” Annie Dillard explains her pilgrimage through various denominational traditions and then writes the following about worship:

The higher Christian churches—where, if anywhere, I belong—come at God with an unwarranted air of professionalism, with authority and pomp, as though they knew what they were doing, as though people in themselves were an appropriate set of creatures to have dealings with God. I often think of the set pieces of liturgy as certain words which people have successfully addressed to God without their getting killed. In the high churches they saunter through the liturgy like Mohawks along a strand of scaffolding who have long since forgotten their danger. If God were to blast such a service to bits, the congregation would be, I believe, genuinely shocked. But in the low churches you expect it any minute. This is the beginning of wisdom.^[1]

Dillard makes it clear in the essay that she prefers liturgy. This is no brief for a low worship style. She also rightly points out how easy it is for believers to go through set prayers and hymns by rote, knowing they will not be “blown to bits,” and yet also forgetting that is exactly what they deserve. Why else did Uzzah die when he grabbed the ark after the oxen stumbled (2 Samuel 6:7)? Uzzah thought he was holier than mud—literally. He was not. Mud has never rebelled, has had no cause to be redeemed. Christians, in contrast, are those who can come each Sunday and embrace the ark of God’s presence on account of Christ’s blood. His death rent the veil of the temple, and when God’s wrath came pouring out, it landed upon the cross and not on His people. Remembering this each Sunday is also the beginning of wisdom.

Christians may have strong opinions about liturgy, and worship music, and what sort of dress is appropriate for public worship. I certainly do. There is something that can be very humbling about sticking to a set Christ-centered liturgy. On the other hand, such liturgy can be so grandiose that the focus begins to shift to its own beauty, rather than fixating on Christ, who after all was born in a stable. Either way, the real worship war ought always to be in one’s own heart, to be most offended by one’s own sin. That is the meaning of worshiping with a broken and contrite heart.

Believers who come humbly are still amazed by God’s grace, and that off-key singer becomes a delight to their ears. No amount of liturgical excellence or failure can add or subtract from the work of the cross. “It is finished,” is still Jesus’s effectual cry. The lengthy anecdote in the sermon without a real point only makes the humble laugh because they remember that an illustration has no power to keep Christ in His grave. Jesus is still in their midst, risen and victorious. When believers come to worship with humility, amazed by grace, it never occurs to them to bicker over who did what in the worship service. They do not bother about who swore what by what bit of gold or not. God has sworn His love for them by Christ, and that is all they need.

Excerpted from Rediscovering Humility © 2018. Christopher A. Hutchinson is a minister in the Presbyterian Church in America and is pastor of Grace Covenant PCA in Blacksburg, Va. Used by permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission. To purchase this and other helpful resources, please visit newgrowthpress.com

^[1] Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm (New York: Harper & Row, 1984), 59.