It seems that young Christians are turning back to traditional worship and liturgy—even, or perhaps especially, among evangelicals.
Churches like Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhatten are overflowing with professional millennials, but their worship is deeply liturgical in style. Here in the UK, the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Community of Saint Anselm invites 20-35 year olds to spend “Year in God’s Time”, dedicated to prayer, evangelism and reconciliation—and is going from strength to strength. There seems to be a growing interest in Orthodox Christianity, and, according to The Prayer Book Society, a resurgence in use of The Book of Common Prayer.
I find it an interesting trend, because it’s one that mirrors my own journey. As a kid I grew up in Anglican churches. First, with an actual prayer book—which I can remember finding fiendishly hard to navigate. Then, with a service book—which I can remember finding mostly dull. My mind would wander as we sang the Gloria. My eyes would glaze as we mumbled the creed. My shoulders would slump as we stood through the Eucharistic prayer. The upside was that by the time I was 10 I could take a smug satisfaction in saying all the prayers with my eyes shut. Pride aside, when I left home to go to university I was glad to be able to go to a church that was a little less formal.
Our social-media-shortened attention spans and resistance to sitting-and-listening have sparked a desire instead to stand, kneel, take, eat, speak, sing
But after four years at an independent evangelical church, this 20-something definitely finds herself pining for a bit more liturgy.
Of course, on the one hand every church has a “liturgy”, inasmuch that every church has a pattern to which worship is conducted—a culture with its own style, vocabulary and customs that are used Sunday by Sunday. But most of us think of “proper” liturgy as that which is written down (rather than extemporary), historic (rather than modern), and involves the active participation of the congregation (rather than limiting participation to listening or singing).
So what’s behind the appeal of traditional worship and liturgy for younger evangelicals? Could it be our social-media-shortened attention spans—our adversity to sitting-and-listening, and a desire instead to stand, kneel, take, eat, speak, sing? Maybe it’s a kick back against a tendency to overemphasise head-knowledge in forensic-style Bible studies? Perhaps it’s a disillusion with the fluffier sort of contemporary Christian music?
Speaking recently about his new book of devotions for Lent, The Glory of the Cross, Tim Chester highlighted a wider cultural trend towards all things vintage, and how it is perhaps this that is reflected in the church. “There’s a renewed interest in the liturgy and traditions of the past—of the forms of worship that connect us with our history”.
But this interest in liturgical patterns leaves Tim with mixed feelings: “There’s a slight concern in me that this is just ‘trendy’—that the interest is in style rather than substance. On the other hand, I’m all for anything that engages us with the history and heritage of the church. We’ve got so much to learn from the patterns, the worship, the liturgy of the past—and particularly, the thinkers and theologians of history.”
So what’s Tim’s advice for young evangelicals drawn to liturgical traditions? “If you want to use the styles of the past, that’s fine, as long as you’re also engaging with the content—with the theology of those Christians who went before us, so that we’re ‘standing on the shoulders of giants.’”
Whatever your church’s style, Lent (which this year begins on Wednesday 14th February) provides you with an opportunity to do just that on a personal level. For hundreds of years Christians have used the 40 days leading up to Easter to reflect on their sin and their need for forgiveness—and so enjoy the glory of Good Friday and the triumph of Easter Sunday all the more.
“If you want to engage with the rhythm, the pattern, the style of Lent that’s fine,” says Tim, “As long as you also engage with the content of the cross and the resurrection—because that’s what really matters. It is the cross and resurrection which shape who we are and what we hope for.”
There are any number of ways you could do this, but one easy place to start would be with The Glory of the Cross: Reflections for Lent from the Gospel of John. They’re written by Tim Chester, whose fantastic Advent books have helped thousands of Christians slow down and treasure Christ in the run-up to Christmas. This new book works in a similar way, with rich theology made simple by Tim’s trademark writing style, as well as daily prayers and meditations drawn from writers and theologians from across history.
We’re praying that—whatever your liturgical leanings!—you’ll be blessed as you look to Christ. Because any tradition that points faithfully to him is sure to be helpful.