How liturgy helps me believe: Some honest reflections
Meg Chaney
I know what I’m expected to believe.
I can tell you the verses. I can spout off the knowledge. Psalm 139, I’m fearfully and wonderfully made. I can tell you how I should view my body. I can remind you that God knew everyday of our life, before one of them came to be. I could be pretty passionate, pretty convincing.
But in my heart of hearts, I struggle to believe it.
Tish Harrison Warren, in her book Prayer in the Night: For those Who Work or Watch or Weep, talks about this disconnect. She discusses those hard seasons, when the beauty of liturgical prayer really sees us through.
I grew up in the church. I’m a church girl, through and through. I don’t remember ever not knowing Jesus. I’m really good at acting and saying the “right” Christian thing. I’m even good at outwardly doing those things. But I don’t always believe it deep down.
The older I get, the more I feel drawn back to a liturgical style of worship. I feel drawn back into tradition and practice. I feel drawn back into prayers we can repeat over and over again.
Why? Because I feel prayer is powerful.
Why? Because we often don’t know what to pray. And when we don’t, the prayers of our congregation can hold us up.
Why? Because I need the reminders of God’s faithfulness on a daily basis. I need to hear His promises and truths spoken over my life. I will forever get teary reciting the apostles creed. There is nothing more beautiful then hearing an entire congregation of people reciting it along side of me. They’re not empty words to me. They’re heartfelt, deep.
I need to be reminded daily of what I actually believe.
I need liturgy, more than I ever realized.
I need liturgy because I’m broken.
I need liturgy because the negative voices in my head can be so loud. So overwhelming, so domineering.
Replacing those lies with truth, on a daily basis, sounds like a truly marvelous routine for me.
Two years ago our family word of the year was katergazomai “working out our faith.” And I feel like that specific word is still the journey we’re on. That word, that act of daily seeking out faith. Daily going through growing pains. Daily moving back to a more liturgical style of worship. I can’t get past it. It seeps into our whole lives. My husband and I talk about it. It influences the style of churches we attend. Every time we move with the military, our churches get more and more traditional. I will always love a good praise and worship service, arms lifted, band playing, the whole room alive with praise music. I’ve even been a worship leader in different seasons of my life. Praise music is deep in my soul. But I continue to be drawn more and more back to hymns and prayers. More and more back to the repetition.
The words of a hymn transport me back to another time, when I sat in church, hair ribbons and frilly dress, white patent shoes, hearing a congregation sing, soprano, alto, tenor, bass, the room around me swirling around, imprinting truths about faith, and life, and loss, and ultimate eternal gain. It’s a story. An Old Old Story. And the old hymns, that often lean so heavily on scripture, remind me time and again of those truths. Before I understood it, before I truly began this faith walk on my own, a congregation surrounded me, Sunday Mornings, Sunday Evenings, Wednesday Nights. As adults, they sang the truths that meant much to them, as a child, the melodies swirled overhead. But I think they sunk somewhere deep inside. The hymns, they come back now, to remind me of what I believe.
Because on my own, I can doubt, day after day. I can say the words out loud, and then again, need the reminder deep in my heart.
This is what you believe, the hymns whisper.
“I heard an old, old story,
How a Savior came from glory,
How He gave His life on Calvary
To save a wretch like me;
I heard about His groaning,
Of His precious blood’s atoning,
Then I repented of my sins;
And won the victory.
O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.”
Hymns remind me of the truths that I believe deep in my heart. A congregation, singing around me, can lift my heart up on the heavier days. God’s word, both written and sung (both as hymns and beautiful Praise & Worship tunes!), can help wonderfully on the days when I feel seriously down. On the days when I know what I should believe, but struggle to believe it. That’s when I return to truth. That’s when I return to music. That’s when I return to a congregation of people that are able to lift me up with their faith, and remind me of what truly matters.
We need each other. We need congregations, we need faith communities, we need circles where God’s truth can seep through time and again. Our hearts don’t simply hear a truth once and never need it again.
I know, on a daily basis, I need to be reminded of how fearfully and wonderfully made I am. I need to be reminded that God has a plan for my life. I need to be reminded that He placed me here, to mother and teach and rear up my head strong children.
Through music, through prayer, through daily Bible study, I hear these reminders. And I hope I’m able to remind you as well. You have such a beautiful purpose. You are no mistake. If you doubt? That means you’re only human. Don’t feel bad for needing those reminders over and over and over again. Speak God’s truths over your own life. Write them on sticky notes, say them out loud, play the praise music a little bit louder, remind yourself of just how beautiful and wonderfully made you are. It’s ok if it needs repeating. I honestly think it’s a good thing, to be reminded time and again, to have the music blaring loud, to let others surround us with God’s truths, to never stop needed a reminder again, of just how much we need Jesus.