Death by Liturgy

Because of the spiritual landscape of Arua, there is a major shortage of Baptist churches in and around our area. Most of the students that we work with in schools attend Anglican “Church of Uganda” congregations. Because of these and several other cultural and scheduling factors, Kelli and I often attend an Anglican church near our home as well.

I have always struggled with the idea of following tradition for tradition’s sake. “It’s the way it’s always been done” isn’t a good reason for me to do something. But, in recent years, I have been reintroduced to the Truth and spiritual meat that so much of our liturgy, hymns, and tradition are full of. And somehow these ancient truths and songs encourage and energize my faith. I have learned how not to mindlessly recite the words or sing the songs, but to consciously worship through the hymns and prayers of years past. I love the legacy of faith that is captured in the liturgy.

But as I have transitioned to liturgical worship, and in an African context at that, I have found that this is not generally the case. The congregation at St. Phillip’s Church monotonely mutters the Lord’s Prayer or the Apostle’s Creed to the point that it is unrecognizable. They recite words in English that they don’t even know the meaning of. “Christians” blindly accept the words of priests, church elders, and religious teachers as spiritual truth, whether there is any Biblical basis for it or not. And when they leave the church after worship on Sunday, they don’t give God another thought until they return the next week.

Don’t get me wrong—there are born-again believers in the Church of Uganda. But there are also multitudes of people who, just like in the States, go to church on Sunday because that’s what “good people” do, and never give a thought to their need of a personal Savior. They never think about the songs they are singing or the prayers they are reciting. As they, in all honesty, worship the liturgy meant to draw us into worship of the Holy One, their souls are slowly dying. And it just reminds me- again- that we really aren’t all that different from the Africans after all.