Now THAT was worship!

A few weeks ago, I attended the closing "service" of a Kairos Prison Ministries program run at a nearby prison. Present at the service were about 20 prisoners who had just completed the 3 day Kairos course, a handful of prisoners from past courses who are now leaders in a burgeoning Christian community at the prison, 30 to 40 Kairos volunteers and around 200 visiting supporters. The service consisted, mainly, of each prisoner telling the story of their Kairos experience, its impact on their faith (at whatever level that may have been) and their hopes for the future. The stories were profoundly moving and inspiring, as these men talked openly, from the heart, about the inner transformation they had experienced as they came to terms with the reality of a living, present God who loved them deeply and unconditionally.

At the end of the service, everybody stood and sung the hymn Amazing Grace. I’m quite sure that, for each of us, those all too familiar lyrics were sung as our own personal story that night. We had been ministered to by those 20 or so courageous men who told their stories with generosity and amazing grace.

After the service had concluded, a young woman visitor behind me exclaimed, “Now that was worship!” (Her unspoken comparison was, I assume, with what often passes for worship in an average church on any given Sunday.) I have to confess, I agreed with her. Now, this young woman, whom I know well, is not a disgruntled non-attending believer, nor some lefty-liberal rebel, but a regular attending, significantly involved and enthusiastic member of the same congregation to which I belong. What, then, was behind her comment?

Perhaps it was this. The worship that night was perfused with qualities that can be lost in the polish and refinement of a common Sunday morning church gathering. It was worship "from the heart", raw in its authenticity, funny and sad, inspiring and confronting, not cluttered with religious jargon or churchy affectation, but filled with real, honest and earthy narrative. This worship experience allowed each participant to be vulnerable and at the same time offered a safe, accepting space to be. Each story was given as a gracious gift and received in the same spirit. The presence of the living God was celebrated as a given, without any hint of requesting that God “come down and be with us.”

Are there any stories out there in blog land of faith communities who, in other settings, are rediscovering an authentic, earthy, narrative approach to worship - one that is not shackled to the latest pragmatic formulae nor the exclusive domain of chronically-churched? I’d love to read some!