“Christianity is not a religion, its a relationship,” is a mantra I occasionally hear. The more I hear it, the more I am taken aback, wondering what exactly people mean. Whatever they specifically intend, the implication is that “religion” is something negative which we would not want to be in any way associated with. However, when I look up the word “religion” in the dictionary, this is what I get:

1) the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or gods

2) details of belief as taught or discussed

3) a particular system of faith and worship

I am honestly at a loss to discern which of these three definitions cannot be applied to Christianity? Is it not belief in and worship of a personal God, with beliefs and a system of faith? What is wrong with these things? Is Christianity just a “relationship” without reference to “details of belief” or a “system of faith?” Interestingly enough, the church in Corinth were enriched in all the gifts of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 1:5), had exuberant and passionate worship services (1 Cor. 14) and were extremely “spiritual” (1 Cor. 3:1; 14:12). However, Paul understood that if they did not believe in the resurrection (i.e., “details of belief”) their faith was useless. Furthermore, he asserted that there needed to be “order” in their worship services. In Paul’s mind, it was not enough for the Corinthians to “have a relationship with Jesus,” they also needed what the dictionary defines as “religion.”

When Christians use the term “religion” pejoratively is such a manner, they generally do not mean any of the definitions used in the dictionary. This means they are using a standard word in a non-standard or technical manner. Religion has become for them a jargon word meaning everything (or something) they dislike about how the last generation (or last sixty generations, or some other group) has practiced Christianity. It often has different meanings for different people. For some it means traditional styles of music or traditional religious language (“thee,” “thou,” etc.). For others it refers to structured patterns of liturgy and worship in which the people say and do certain things at certain specified times. For others, it means fixed and rigid rules for behavior. Still others speak of it as referring to a system of “earning your salvation,” and by this meaning doing enough good works to get into heaven. In none of these cases does it actually mean fundamentally what “religion” means. It only refers to someone else’s religion that the speaker doesn’t like. Everyone has a religion whether they think so or not. One’s religion may be atheism, but that is still their belief about God. Everyone has systems of belief or practice whether they use a historic liturgy to shape worship or think everything in worship is spontaneous (even though the “spontaneity” routinely uses the same limited set of elements).

My heart and motivation here is three fold.

First, rather simply, using the term “religion” as a “bad word” is offensive to a lot of people in the Body of Christ who value and treasure their religion (i.e. their faith in God, their beliefs and practices). For many people, using the term “religion” negatively is entirely outside their frame of reference. Its use is thus not helpful in fostering love and unity between various streams within the Church. My hope is that a growing love for the whole Church and a hunger for its visible unity will lead to tempered speech and ultimately an affectionate engagement with one another.

Second, it is not the most helpful way of communicating, and can lead to confusion amongst growing believers. Since the meaning generally depends upon the speaker, and the word is being used in a non-standard manner, it could have a whole range of meanings which are generally unclear to the hearer.

Third, I am concerned about a growing trend in Western Christianity, in which neo-romantic, existentialist and post-modern ideas are being confused as Christianity. Some of these ideas are not necessarily anti-Christian (some are), but they should not be confused as being one and the same. Namely, I am referring to an ideal of self-determination and self-expression without any external restrictions, structure or authority. I am free to be who I am with no restraints. This can sound and look Christian, but should ultimately been seen for what it is  – the spirit of the age (idolatry), a conglomeration of various nineteenth and twentieth century philosophies (for more on this click here).

Remarkably, the Bible itself speaks very positively about “religion” (as defined in the dictionary). Here are just a few examples:

1) God is the kind of person who establishes systems, forms, patterns, procedures, places and regulations for worship and gives extensive guidelines for behavior (Heb. 9:1-4). Check Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy for this one. Long descriptions are given concerning how the right person, at the right time, wearing the right clothes, having made the right sacrifices, having burned a carefully mixed incense, is supposed to perform the right ritual. Even if we pull a “we’re in the New Testament now, not in the Old,” besides the fact that I don’t have clue what that possibly means, God is the same god yesterday, today and forever. He didn’t try “religion” for a while and then give up on it and become a free-spirited neo-romantic existentialist, giving everyone freedom in the New Testament.

2) Daniel had set times for prayer each day (Daniel 6:10), as did the Psalmist (Psalm 119:164)

3) Jesus, in order to teach his disciples how to pray, gave them a standardized written form of prayer. While often understood as merely “a list of topics,” Jesus was simply doing what many other Rabbis during that period of time had done – taught his disciples a specific prayer they could memorize and pray.

4) Jesus participated in the liturgical synagogue worship (Luke 4:18ff). Rabbinic literature from about a century or two later explains that the person who read the “haftorah” portion of Scripture (i.e., the prophets), would also to some extent preside over the liturgy and prayers. If this tradition was in effect at the time of Jesus, he may have fulfilled this capacity. Additionally, the fact that he was known and trusted by the leaders in the synagogue to read the Scripture and give the subsequent address very likely means he participated in the services and possibly in this role quite regularly.

5) The early apostles participated in the liturgical worship life of temple/synagogue (Luke 24:53; Acts 2:42 (the prayers); 3:1; 16:6. Notably, this continues after the resurrection and ascension of Jesus and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Of note is that in Acts 2:42, in the description of the life of the early apostolic community, it says they committed themselves to “the prayers.” Not every translation includes the definite article (“the”), but it is surely there in the Greek text. This means the apostolic community did not simply value something called “prayer,” but they joined themselves to “the prayers,” namely, the structured prayer services of the temple and synagogue, which were routinely held at the third, sixth and ninth hour each day (9 AM, Noon and 3 PM).

6) The early church established rituals (baptism and the Lord’s Supper), which were commanded and instituted by Jesus himself – check 1 Cor. 11 – the Lord’s Supper was not just a meal they shared, it was a distinct ritual by the time Paul wrote 1 Corinthians. This is seen in that Paul makes a distinction between the “meal” and the “Lord’s Supper.” There was something specific about the Lord’s Supper that was above and beyond simply sharing a meal together. If the evidence we have from the early and mid second century is anything reflective of the practices of the earliest church (I’m going to put my money on that they were closer to the apostles than we are 19 centuries later), this was specific and structured ritual which was central to Christian worship.

7) Paul thought the Law (which may be more than, but at least includes, the regulations for behavior and worship) was holy, just and good (Rom. 7:12) as well as spiritual (7:14).

8 ) Paul and James use the term “religion” in a clearly positive sense:

1Tim. 3:16 Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great:  He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels,  proclaimed among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory.

James 1:26 If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless.  27 Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.

9) Paul has creedal-like statements that systematize belief. These beliefs were requisite on all (cf. 1 Cor. 15:3-8; 1 Tim. 3:16)

All in all, I am proposing the following:

-We cannot continue using the term “religion” in the jargonistic negative fashion described above. We are using it to describe what the word itself does not mean in normal usage, so one needs to comprehend each person’s usage in order to understand them. It is a useless word if it doesn’t communicate. Let’s just say what we mean in each particular instance.

-We must stop categorically judging other religious traditions and streams within Christianity, especially with a catch-all label of “religious.” To some people it is a given that “the traditional church” is completely dead and all of their “forms of religion” need to go out the window. This is an example of pride to the hilt. I appreciate that you may have ways you wish to personally express your faith and work it out in community. Please, however, do not imagine you possess the right, duty or ability to single handedly judge 1800 years of church history and tradition, as well as the majority of Christians worldwide (and incidentally the majority of charismatic/Pentecostal believers worldwide) who are Roman Catholic. If we are not worshipping alongside those in other streams of the Body of Christ, loving them and praying for them, we need to immediately refrain from critiquing them, especially publicly. If we do not experience ourselves as part of the same Body with “them,” but rather part of the “superior” group that is against “them,” we have no place pointing out their faults, perceived or real. For others, any type of spirituality that doesn’t give them complete and total freedom of expression to do whatever whenever is “religion.” Actually, this is a manifestation of a massive problem with authority that needs to be named and owned. Please repent. Let’s stop blaming “them” for the problems in Christianity and focus on following Jesus’ advice (read Matt. 7:3, its the whole deal about the “speck” and the “log”).

-Let’s find alternate ways of talking about what we actually mean when we use the term “religion.” Here I have four proposed terms to at least begin discussion:

-religiosity – the suffix at the end of the word “religion” now gives it the meaning “excessively religious, often for its own sake.” Religiousness will not really do because that simply means someone is religious. According to our definitions above, this cannot in itself be a bad thing.

-legalistic – here’s where the excessive and unbalanced emphasis on laws comes in, particularly if one thinks they need to get “good enough” for God through them.

-formalism – when certain modes of worship are used for their own sake, not because they lead one to God. This one can get tricky, because to use your standards of worship to judge another’s can lead to great misunderstanding and sinful judgment.

-will-worship – I first saw this term used by Richard Foster in Celebration of Discipline. It means essentially, to worship your will power – to believe that strenuous effort will in itself produce spiritual growth. It gives priority to my exertion over trust in God.

I would appreciate any further contribution to this discussion, along with suggestions on how we can accurately discuss problems we identify, without falling headlong into name-calling and unrighteous judgement.

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In my experience, whether talking to evangelicals or charismatics (or evangelical-charismatics), there seems to be a fairly strong opposition to using pre-written forms in either corporate or personal prayer. By this I am mostly referring to using prayers written by someone else. Even more specifically, I am speaking of using something akin to the historic structured liturgies of daily prayer that have been used in religious communities from time immemorial. It is my contention that this opposition is based both on faulty logic and presuppositions that have much more to do with the spirit of the age (zeitgeist) than apostolic Christianity. Since for the most part the “proof of the pudding is in the eating,” seeing how simple it is to acquire the twelve benefits I laid out in the last post (easy, consistent, diverse, deep, rich in content, broadly-biblical, non-idiosyncratic, Christ-centered, historically-rooted, well-rounded, manageable and profoundly moving) will ultimately be the best reason for someone to use pre-written prayers and forms to aid their prayer life. However, I want to briefly deal with the primary objection I’ve heard over the years (and I myself once espoused) to using written prayers. The objection essentially goes something like one of the following:

“If I use a pre-written prayer, it couldn’t be authentic…”

“It’s not something that is really from my heart…”

“It wouldn’t be a personal relationship between me and God anymore…”

The assumption here is that the central criterion for “good prayer” is that it must be an authentic expression of my innermost self.  Indeed, this criterion has been so exalted that it overpowers all the criteria I laid out in my previous post rendering them inconsequential. Thus expressing your innermost self (or your perception of your innermost self) trumps prayer that is consistent, deep, rich in content, broadly-biblical, Christ-centered, historically-rooted, etc. The notion that this is the paramount criterion for “real/good prayer” and is thus incompatible with pre-written forms is flawed in at least two ways.

1) LOGIC – The notion that pre-written forms cannot be authentic is an idea that almost no Christian actually believes, so it is a marvel to me that this argument is even employed. Let me explain. This past Sunday, in every church around the world, whether they were the most traditional, or the most charismatic, people used pre-written prayers to “express their hearts” to God. They were, however, in songs. Although I have regularly enjoyed and still do enjoy singing songs in both corporate and private settings that either I personally wrote in advance or made up on the spot, I have never been in a worship setting where all the songs the congregation sang were spontaneous. Even if that does happen somewhere, the congregation would still be using a form written by someone else.

I have never heard someone attempt to argue that they cannot sing worship songs or hymns written by someone else because they cannot possibly use them to give an “authentic expression of their innermost self” to God. This is because we all know that it is more than possible to express ourselves to God using someone else’s words. In fact, we do it all the time. More so, we frequently find that someone else can put into words, what our innermost self has been wanting to say but has not been able to express.

We also express ourselves to God through another’s words every time we agree with someone else’s prayer. We didn’t come up with those words, someone else did. They were not a spontaneous eruption from our hearts, yet when we say “Amen” we all acknowledge that the other’s words can be an authentic and meaningful way for us to pray to God. If they were not, then we would eschew all corporate prayer, an abstention that no one in the early apostolic community maintained.

2) BIBLICAL/HISTORICAL – Now that I’ve shown nearly all people do in fact believe it is possible to “authentically express your innermost self” to God through texts written by someone else, I would now like to go further by questioning this notion as a central criterion for judging quality prayer. Pause for a second and ask yourself if you ever remember Jesus, the apostles, the prophets, or anyone else in Scripture ever talk about the necessity for the “authentic expression of my innermost self.” It probably won’t take you long to realize that none of them ever do. (Even when there is gut-wrenching heart expression (for example, say, in the Psalms or Lamentations), it is WRITTEN down and intended for others to use as their own form).

If the Bible does not hold up the supreme necessity of “authentic self-expression” then why is this almost a universal, immediate response to the notion of using pre-written prayers in contemporary North-American Evangelical Protestantism? Where is this value and its priority coming from? I guess I already gave it away in the title of this post – it comes from the spirit of the age, to be more precise, the spirit of the age from 1800-1950ish. I am particularly meaning two specific movements of late modern culture: Romanticism and Existentialism.

The Romantic movement of the early 19th century responded to the extreme rationalism of the Enlightenment (late 17th and 18th century), and indeed they were right to do so. Rather they said, the “heart” was the central concern. Notice how such talk could easily be crowded into the same room with Isaiah, Amos and Deuteronomy’s  emphasis on the “heart” and opposition to “outward forms” lacking internal reality. To risk oversimplifying an entire cultural movement, the Romantics encouraged one to look inward, to discover the feelings that are inside of you and make them the center of your life, not least your self-expression. This was codified in Christian thought by F.D.E. Schleiermacher who said that “Christian doctrines are accounts of the Christian religious affections set forth in speech” (The Christian Faith). Notice the subtle difference between Romanticism and the Scripture. Deuteronomy says, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart…” while Romanticism says “have loving feelings” and Romantic-inspired theology says “let us describe our loving feelings about God.” In Biblical religion, the object of the love is central, whereas in romanticism-inspired theology, the feeling is central and the object ancillary (In his lengthy treatment of Christian theology, Schleiermacher said “this Other [meaning God] is not objectively presented in the immediate self-consciousness with which alone we are here concerned,” i.e., we’re mostly concerned with the feelings in our self-consciousness, not God).

This brings us to the largely 20th century phenomenon of existentialism (although its harbinger Kierkegaard appeared on the scene in the mid-19th century). Amongst other things, existentialism sought to highlight that each person has a “true self” of authentic existence which must be searched for, found, freed and given full expression. Like romanticism, there are ways this language can be layered within and around the Biblical text (As R. Bultmann aptly demonstrated, for better or for worse). Again, it is subtly different than what the Scripture is in fact saying. Rather than being confronted by and conformed to something larger than and external to ourselves, we must “discover who we really are” and then be true to that authentic self. Growth is not as much a process of conversion and transformation as it is discovery and realization of what was always there within me. Akin to Romanticism, Biblical faith emphasizes an external relationship, the zeitgeist, an inward journey.

From this brief historical lesson, I think it becomes clear where a lot of this talk about “authentic expression from my heart” derives its modern origins. At least in the ways it is often used, it is not coming from the Bible. Sure, Biblical verses are employed, but Romanticist and Existentialist interpretations and applications of those verses. If these passages are in fact explaining how the center of prayer is discovering what is really in my heart and then authentically expressing it to God in my own personally unique way, it is funny how nearly the entire tradition of Jewish and Christian prayer missed that, including the earliest records we have of the church immediately following the writing of the New Testament. When the apostles asked Jesus how to pray, he didn’t give them instructions on how to focus or how to tune into the Spirit really hard. Nor did he tell them to divide up into groups and discuss their personal story and emote what is bubbling up from their inner recesses. He did not lead them in a journey of inward discovery and affirmation. He certainly did not encourage them to abandon forms and structures of spirituality, since his answer was to give them a set of words they can say, which is now known as “The Lord’s Prayer.” It is commonly asserted that the Lord’s Prayer was not a “form,” (predicated on the assumption we already know religious forms are bad!) but a suggestion of the topics one can pray about. It’s fine to use it that way, but that is not what Jesus was doing. Luke’s text is very clear in this manner. It says quite literally, “whenever you pray, SAY: ‘Father…’” (Luke 11:2). Jesus’ central advice on prayer is to have a specific pattern and form of words to “say” “whenever you pray.” Whatever we make of this, it certainly was miles away from what a Romanticist/Existentialist might recommend.

Now don’t get me wrong. As a good product of my time I think “expressing what’s really in my heart” is important and I personally cherish the numerous times I have been able to do so. But it is not central, and it is certainty not the starting place of prayer. If prayer begins with and finds its locus in “expressing my heart,” it would seem to be right on track to transmogrify from a noble and beautiful practice into an ugly and horrid introspective navel-gazing. I know plenty of this from my personal experience. On the contrary, Christian prayer begins with our eyes fixed on God (rather than our emotions) and the Scripture (rather than our own creativity/authenticity), while rooted in Church history (rather than our own idiosyncrasy). What I’ve found is this type of heart-posture, coupled with the method of prayer that I’ll outline in my next post, has led to a significant increase in the regularity of profoundly moving and authentically expressive experiences with the Lord, over the whole gamut of emotions.

While my personal experience is not your own, for me it illustrates the futility and lack of credibility contained within Romanticist and Existentialist applications of Scripture. The difference is stark. When Isaiah rebukes Israel using words like “I hate your festivals,” etc., or Jesus speaks of the Pharisees’ honoring God with their words, but their hearts being far away, or Paul might speak of the liberty of the Spirit, the Existentialist or Romanticist might condemn the use of forms, structures or patterns in worship and prayer. The solution to a dull spiritual experience is the inward search and liberation from “religious forms.” In reality, this analysis is incredibly shallow. Isaiah makes clear the issue is not forms but faithfulness to Yahweh (Isa. 1:12-17). Paul transparently states the law is good and spiritual (Rom. 7:12, 14). I also find it hard to believe that Jesus specifically condemned the forms of Jewish liturgy considering the early church continued to take part in this worship after the Ascension and even after Pentecost (Luke 24:53; Acts 2:42, 46; 3:1). The Existentialist would tell me I need to prioritize authenticity, self-expression and freedom from forms, but I have found that concerted faithfulness to God, attentiveness to his Word and commitment to structured rhythms of prayer is the context within which I have experienced more acute self-awareness, greater freedom in self-expression and deeper religious affections than I have at any previous time in my life. Using pre-written structures and liturgies have dramatically transformed my prayer life for the better, and enabled me to obtain a spirituality that is “easy, consistent, diverse, deep, rich in content, broadly-biblical, non-idiosyncratic, Christ-centered, historically-rooted, well-rounded, manageable and profoundly moving” (see the previous post for an explanation of all these components).

In my next post I will outline what this specifically looks like for me in my practice of daily prayer.

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      I have already asserted my desirous intention to share an aspect of my life in God that is quite current, that is, my recent experiential investigations into the rich liturgical tradition of the Church. To begin this ongoing series of accounting and reflection, the contextual situation of my present experience is quite in order. Though I certainly did not plan my current near obsession with the Church’s liturgical tradition, it does come as a logical step in what will soon seem like an apparent progression. To explicate the context and logic of this phase in my life it will be fitting to embark on some autobiographical rumination (albeit, vastly filtered and condensed).

Recently, I have become fond of saying that I have always been “saved.” By that, I am referring to the entire lack in my consciousness of any time I was not a Christian. Although I had repeated experiences in which I “asked Jesus into my heart” from a very young age, in retrospect, they hardly seem like conversion experiences. What was I being converted from? Youthful ignorance? The “selfishness” of a three year old who has no other means of survival than to draw from those around them? The condemnation of an infant with little to no capacity for moral reasoning? While I certainly value and recognize the need for complete allegiance to the lordship of Jesus, I also truly believe that people can be raised Christian. At each expansion of my ability for moral reasoning I was taught and lead by my parents and church leaders to give my heart to God. Of course, this is not excluding the misfortunes of teen years (which I term the Dark Night of Life), nor the ongoing engagement of sanctification. Nevertheless, I maintain that from my earliest memory, I had a conscious, voluntary, heart-felt and growing faith in God. Having set the conception of my spiritual life over twenty-six years ago, I will share portions of my pilgrimage that bear relevance to where I would like to lead this discussion. In doing so, I hope to highlight distinct phases of my life where I discovered and began to value and incorporate aspects of the major streams of Christian tradition.

I was always an odd child, in more ways than one, and in such I remember having an odd fascination with the Bible. My favorite book during childhood was the “Picture Bible,” which essentially was an abridged form of the Bible set as a five hundred page comic-book. When I matured slightly my favorite book became a Bible handbook my parents gave me as a Christmas present. It went through the Bible summarizing each section, explaining the history and background with pictures, timelines, diagrams, etc. I would often get captivated by certain topics, like the Tabernacle, or the Horsemen of the Apocalypse and make “books” about them on construction paper, writing about them, making charts and pictures, much like my Bible handbook. During trips to the library during grade school, my best friend (he being Jewish) and I would find the only few books on the Bible in the school library and check them out. I remember at that time, my grandfather calling me the family’s “young Bible scholar.”

Alas, my youthful zeal for the Word of God dwindled over time. Growing up, schoolwork came rather easily for me and likewise, repeating memorized Bible information was never difficult. As I entered high school, the combination of being both intellectually astute for my age and sincere in my love for God garnered me a reputation of being one of the “more spiritual” members of my youth group, despite unspoken inconsistencies and struggles in my walk with God. It was at this point in my life when I became a serious classical musician and devoted most of my time to musical pursuits, whether that be practicing my instruments, writing music, singing, participating and/or directing ensembles, etc. I grew increasingly bitter and judgmental, as I perceived that the traditional forms of music were the best and only way one should worship. It is amazing that I had such carnal confidence to judge others despite the fact that my own personal life was entirely devoid of vitality in the Scriptures and prayer. My overall boredom with God and spirituality (except for when there was the style of music I liked), lack of private religion and growing struggles with sin only added to the weight of shame and condemnation that energized my judgmentalism in the first place.

Sometime during the tenth grade, on Sunday nights, my parents introduced me to a Methodist church that was experiencing a renewal/revival of sorts, of which they had already been attending intermittently. The church’s style was markedly more expressive and passionate than the variety of staid spirituality with which I had grown up. The music was neither classical nor traditional in genre. I can honestly say I hated it. I thought everyone was crazy and could not understand what was going on. I never really wanted to go, but my parents kept taking me every other week or so. What I remember next is that a couple of months later I completely loved it. I wish I could have retain some of the intervening memories for that would have made this narrative more engaging. I discovered a dimension of freedom in worship that I had not known before. I found it liberating to express my heart to God with all the multifarious emotions it possesses. This was my first exposure to the Charismatic tradition, one of the great streams within the Christian faith. I learned much in those days about the importance of worship and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. We are not as the popular adage goes, “to seek the giver, not the gifts.” Paul exhorts us to “earnestly desire spiritual gives” (1 Cor 14:1), to zealously yearn for them. In addition, the passion and excitement from the worship services and preaching gave me the impetus to begin personal Bible study and prayer (though not always consistently). None of these points were emphasized in my churches growing up and I thank God for what I have learned from the Charismatic tradition.

To be continued…

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