Somewhere along the way, a lot of us started treating worship like the opening act. It’s pleasant, a little long, and something to catch the end of while we park and grab coffee. For people who say we don’t go to church, we are the church, that’s a strange way to show it.
Psalm 98 would like a word. “Sing a new song to the LORD, for he has performed wonders; his right hand and holy arm have won him victory” (Psalm 98:1, CSB). Worship is a response. He saved us, He showed up, He won. Singing about it is what people do when they actually believe it.
Now look at the verbs in this psalm: sing, shout, be jubilant, play the lyre, blast the trumpets. “Let the whole earth shout to the LORD; be jubilant, shout for joy, and sing” (Psalm 98:4, CSB). Not one of those can be done by quietly thinking nice thoughts. Biblical worship always does something.
The Hebrew backs this up. Scripture uses several words for praise, and nearly every one describes an action. There’s halal, a wild, unembarrassed celebration (where we get “hallelujah”), and yadah, lifting our hands. Shabach is a loud shout, tehillah a sung praise, and barak kneeling before Him. Even the New Testament word for worship, proskuneo, pictures bowing low before a King. Worship looks like something.
So “I’m worshiping in my heart” can be true, or it can be a very spiritual-sounding way to skip the uncomfortable part. Introverts, we see you, and nobody’s asking you to become a different person. But if we can cheer at a ballgame and belt every word of a breakup song in the car, we can manage more than a polite sway for the God who saved us.
Psalm 98 even gets the scenery involved. “Let the rivers clap their hands; let the mountains shout together for joy” (Psalm 98:8, CSB). If the rivers are clapping, we can probably uncross our arms.
A church is defined by what it does when it gathers, and Psalm 98 pictures a people who can’t keep quiet. When we worship together, something shifts. A whole room declaring who our King is reminds the weary there’s hope and makes room for the Holy Spirit to move. It also means someone else’s worship isn’t ours to grade. Their raised hands, their tears, their quiet kneeling are between them and Jesus.
So let’s do something. Show up for the first song. Sing even if we’re off-key. Lift a hand, then maybe two. Kneel if that’s what rises up. Not to impress the person next to us, but because He deserves it.
The mountains are already shouting. Let’s be a church defined by worship, not one out-worshiped by a hill.