Some Thoughts on Liturgy & Discipline

One of the themes of my spiritual journey since moving to Pittsburgh has been an encounter with liturgy and spiritual disciplines. I go to Upper Room, a church that values the liturgical calendar, the wisdom of the church fathers, communal liturgical prayers and readings. And for much of the past year and a half I’ve been hesitant to embrace these practices. Over the last few months, and now especially over the past few days, God has been transforming my perception of this more structured and ordered spirituality.


Not long ago my mentor pointed out that we often end up identifying how God works based on what spiritual framework we experienced during periods of intense transformation. About three years ago, God led me into thirteen months of deep, intense, and life-altering spiritual change. The process was facilitated by a church family that embraces emotional intensity, healthy tension in relationships, and a very visional big-picture outlook. These things are all wonderful. They helped me step out of a very dogmatic rule-oriented confining church experience into one that drew me immeasurably closer to the unconditional love of Jesus and taught me to worship and live with abandon. But I’ve fallen prey to that tendency of privileging the worship style I experienced during transform over other ways of drawing close to God. Hence, the hesitancy with which I’ve approached liturgy and discipline.

I started to notice a change in my mindset over the past several months. I became curious about the traditions and liturgies my church was observing. I noticed that confession was a part of every worship service. After Chris (co-pastor) suggested it, I started reading from the lectionary and then began using a liturgical guide for daily prayer and scripture reading. Just before Christmas, Mike (co-pastor) led us all in a time of prayer that involved the congregation singing a meditative refrain after each request—the experience was powerful. On the morning Joy led worship, she had us pray the “Jesus” prayer (Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner) silently for five minutes. This weekend I attended a two-day devotional conference that required hours of prayer, meditation, the singing of the Psalms. And yesterday Lance, a regular at Upper Room, told us all how helpful it’s been to develop a “rule of life,” a set of spiritual disciplines designed to encourage you to daily follow and focus on Jesus.

My hesitancy has been disappearing, and I think the experiences of the past several days has helped me to see that I need a healthy balance between the emotional intensity & wildly free worship of my previous church and the deliberate, steady devotion to spiritual disciplines of my present church. Since about mid-week last week I’ve been struggling with feeling down, embattled by insecurities, anxieties, and self-criticism. The circumstances of my life are pretty solid right now, so I know this is spiritual warfare. This morning God brought Psalm 144:1-2 to mind and reminded me that God has been “train[ing] my hands for war” while offering Himself as my shield and fortress. The training is just taking on a much different form than what I’d previously experienced. Liturgy and spiritual disciplines are empty only when they’re practiced without the Spirit. Learning and observing them in community with the Spirit and brothers and sisters in Christ makes them conduits of God’s life-giving goodness.

None of this is easy. I fought through the devotional conference—encountering discouragement and insecurity even in the midst of worship and meditation. And instead of recognizing the hand of Jesus in the battle itself and resting in the fact that He’s strong enough, I chided myself for struggling at all. I fought through the rest of the weekend, spending time with Christian friends, hearing the Word but still feeling down because I wasn’t triumphant over the unhealthy perspectives that have been attacking my mind and heart.

But thankfully things started to shift yesterday. The sermon reminded me that Jesus knows my heart, and the experience of church with all of us together in that little room reminded me that I have family with whom to share burdens. I spent the evening with my sister Joy and realized how healthy the discipline of confession is and how vital it is to speak my struggles and thereby not face them alone. I woke up today relieved that instead of immediately facing homework, I could greet the day with readings from Common Prayer. And later on, as I walked down the sidewalk towards my car, what came to mind? Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.

I’m starting to realize that God is increasing my arsenal. Not all of the spiritual disciplines I’m encountering are entirely new to me, but I don’t know that there’s been a time in life when I appreciated their value in the way that I am now. I’ve long admired the Psalmist David. I love how willing he is to share his personal raw emotions with the Lord. But it’s only starting to dawn on me how much of a discipline his crying out to God is, how deliberate and communal his songs are. The liturgies, the disciplines, the prayers, they remind me that I’m not the only one confessing, crying out, and longing for mercy. And they shift my focus, turn my eyes on Jesus, and steep me in the God-reality for which I long.