This is Part 3 of a four-part blog on the Liturgy at Emmaus. Last week we looked at the Call to Worship, the Song of Praise, the Scripture Reading and the Songs of Response. This week we will look at Corporate and Private Confession, the Assurance of Pardon and the Song of Response.
Simply put, we confess corporately for at least three primary reasons:
(1) after reading about, and singing about, the glorious, holy, Triune God, and all that he has accomplished in the gospel, we are compelled to confess our sins. The gospel works itself out in our lives, and as we meditate on what God has done in Christ to interrupt our sin and rebellion and helpless, to die the death we should have died, and to bring us into his Father’s family as brothers and sisters, one of the works of the gospel is ongoing repentance. There is a contrast between who God is and who we are, and with the clearest view of that contrast—with a full awareness of the fact that we often persist in faithlessness despite God’s unshakable faithfulness—we repent. However, this kind of repentance isn’t a shame-filled, guilt-ridden kind which leaves groveling criminals trembling for fear of what the judge’s verdict might be, but a hopeful and genuinely sorrowful kind of repentance, which leaves a child humbly heart-broken over the fact that he has disobeyed his father.
(2) the whole of a Christian’s life is marked by continued repentance. We want for our corporate gatherings to, in a way, be a microcosm of the Christian life. Confessing and repenting corporately is a way for us to set a precedence and an expectation for what we do as a Church. We are teaching one another what kind of people we are—namely, that we are a confessing people; a people who bear their sins to one another and to God; a people who do not hide their sin but rather search for it, bring it out into clear daylight, and execute it in public; a people who never despise weakness and neediness on the one hand, and who never minimize the sinfulness of sin on the other. In confessing corporately, not only are we praying corporately (one of the necessary biblical mandates you will recall from a previous post), we are teaching each other what to do with sin—i.e., we shamelessly bring it to Jesus, the only one who can actually deal with it.
And (3) when we corporately confess our sins to God, with one mind and heart, we are owning the fact that we are not the hero of the story. Don’t miss the counterintuitive irony about the situation: after three songs of singing with hands in the air, bellowing with loud triumphant-sounding voices, we decide to corporately admit our failures and our neediness, and confess our sins to God. Our community is an oxymoron. It is an army of soldiers who fight by dying. We proudly come together to sing about how weak and desperate we are. With boldness and shameless enthusiasm, we are united by our utter allegiance to—and dependence upon—a King who conquers by being conquered. This is the folly of the cross, the power of God unto salvation, and it is helpful to be reminded of this fact week after week. Corporate confession is thus a corporate exercise in humility.
After we confess our sins corporately, we allow for such an act to set in and do the work on us at the individual level. This extended period of private, silent meditation is intended to be a period of unearthing. Week after week, we come together as a people who have been battered and bruised by sin (be it sins we see, sins committed against us, or sins we commit ourselves), and this period of the service is an opportunity—within the context of corporate worship—to do business with God. I fully expect that through the course of the preceding liturgical elements (call to worship, Scripture reading, corporate songs, corporate confession), God has been at work convicting his people and revealing idols. Because of this, it is important that we have the opportunity to respond to such conviction and revelation. So in private confession, we do just that.
Assurance of Pardon
The assurance of pardon is even more important than the confession itself, for it is the outright promise that those in Christ have a rock-solid justification. Despite the subjective reality of what we may be feeling when we confess our sins, the assurance of pardon reminds us that an objective reality has been holding us secure throughout—if we are in Christ, we are forgiven. In this way, the person who is leading the liturgy is speaking as an ambassador of Christ to administer priestly comfort and peace, and it is not presumptuous either, for the entire declaration is predicated not on the speaker, but on Christ and his atoning work. In this way, the assurance of pardon fits both under the command to read the Scripture, but also to teach/preach the Scripture; the speaker not only reads the text, he goes on to apply its various implications to the believers present (“your sins are forgiven through Christ!”).
Recently, I had a member ask me why we typically don’t give any warning with the assurance of pardon. “When you start reading Scripture, I’m not really sure what the procedure is,” he said, “like, are we still praying or not?” The abruptness of the assurance of pardon is, as you might expect, intentional. Why do we not say “amen” before administering the assurance of pardon? Simply this: we want for you to be interrupted by grace. We want for the very first thing you hear, almost in a disruptive sort of way, to be God’s gracious words of assurance for those who have been united to Christ by faith. This is, in and of itself, an opportunity for us to demonstrate the gospel once more; God did not wait for us to clean ourselves up and make ourselves presentable before taking it upon himself to redeem us, rather he came while we were still weak and enemies. Likewise, I have no intention of waiting to administer the assurance of pardon until after the congregation has divulged all of its sins to God. I want the congregation to hear the grace of God drowning out their sins like a bear-horn while their confessions are still on their lips. This why the assurance of pardon will often include something like, “those sins that you have just confessed, are already forgiven in Christ. They have been nailed to the cross and buried in the grave, and you are one with the resurrected Christ!”
Song of Thanksgiving
Does anything make more sense than this? I mean honestly, when we’ve just been interrupted with such grace—when we’ve had such a declaration of God’s kindness showered upon us as a people—singing a song of thanksgiving is just about the most logical thing we could do. So this song is typically one of the most explicitly gospel-rich songs we sing.
Next week we will continue our exploration of Emmaus’ liturgy by looking at the Sermon, Communion, the final Song of Response, and the Benediction.
This is Part 2 of a four-part blog on the Liturgy at Emmaus. Last week, I wrote a piece in which I developed our rationale, as a Church, for the primary elements of our corporate worship service. In this article, we’ll begin dissect each element in our actual liturgy.
Having looked at the governing principle behind our corporate worship services last week, I now want to shift our focus to address each of the particular elements in our weekly service. If you’ve spent any time at Emmaus, you’ve probably picked up on the fact that there’s a very predictable routine we go through every week. All of our services begin and end the exact same way, and there are a handful of things we do that are never absent. This routine is what we mean when we say liturgy, and every element matters. In reality, even “non-liturgical” Churches have liturgies—more times than not, it’s merely a liturgy that is absent-mindedly adopted. Opening song. Announcements. Greet your “neighbor.” Pass the bucket for tithe offerings. Two more songs. Sermon. Response song.
At Emmaus, we don’t want to do anything absent-mindedly; we want to have an explicitly biblical, gospel-drenched reason for everything that we do. In fact, when Pastor Josh, Pastor Ronni and Pastor Kevin were originally crafting the liturgical structure of our services, long before we began to even worship on a regular basis, they were pushed back to the drawing board on several occasions for the same resounding impulse: we need more gospel.
So at present, our services follow the following liturgical format:
• Call to Worship
• Song of Praise
• Scripture Reading
• Songs of Response
• Corporate Confession
• Private Confession
• Assurance of Pardon
• Song of Thanksgiving
• Song of Response
Below, I’ve broken down each element of our liturgy to explain we repeat such an activity week by week, and how it is intended to adorn the gospel.
Call to Worship
This is what begins our service. Of course, we often arrive before the call to worship to enjoy the company of one another, and on most weeks one of our pastors will make announcements, but the formal service doesn’t start until the call to worship. Why do we start this way? Because worship is essentially comprised of two elements: revelation and response. Worship is the act of responding to that which has been revealed. So if we truly gather together with the intention of worshiping our Triune God, we need see Him first! This is why the call to worship is always a Scripture reading. God has revealed himself through his Word, and if we intend to see Him—so that we can respond appropriately—we must look there.
The call to worship is also an act of mutual upbuilding. We are calling ourselves, and each other, to fix our eyes on God to see how glorious he is! It’s us saying to one another, “God is glorious and worthy of praise! Look at him! Isn’t he glorious and worthy of praise?! Yes! He is glorious and worthy of praise, so let’s praise him for his glory!” This is why the person leading in the call to worship will begin the call as an address to the congregation, and then the congregation will join the call as an address to the congregation and to God. We are starting with God, and unifying our voices around him in such a way that we are corporately affirming his worth to be the center of our attention.
So in the call to worship, we are simultaneously declaring to God that we consider Him worthy of the praise we are about to ascribe to Him, and we are asking for him to “incline [our hearts] to [his] testimonies, and not to selfish gain!” (Psalm 119:36). The call to worship is intrinsically a de-centering act; we are communicating from the outset that our gathering is about ascribing worth to God, not merely pleasing ourselves.
Song of Praise
After a call to worship, how could we not respond with a song of praise? This song is typically a song that intentionally focuses on the bigness of God. We are praising him for one of his divine attributes; his holiness, his power to create the cosmos or deliver his people, his unfathomable love, etc. It is a massive, unimaginably glorious God we have just been called to worship, so we gladly do just that. I’m tempted to go off into a tangent here about reverence, but I’ll simply say this: there is a reason why we rage against “glibness” in our services. You will find zero vanity in our songs. Joy? Yes. Exuberance? Absolutely. Cheesiness, presumption, or triviality? God forbid it! Why? Because we are worshiping God. If our songs aren’t marked by a palpable gravity, we may not be worshipping God. He has told us that acceptable worship in his sight is packaged in “reverence and awe,” (Heb. 12:28-29) so we dare not offer him anything less.
Again, this is supposed to be a central element for the gathered Church, so we want to do it often. Why read an extended package here, after the first song and before the second? Simply this: we want for Scripture to actually, functionally direct our service. It would be easy to read a passage of Scripture at the beginning, take credit for having a “biblically-based” service, and then run off and do whatever we please with the remainder of our time. But that’s not what we want. Rather, we want to sandwich our Scripture-filled songs with Scripture readings, Scriptural preaching and Scriptural obeying. In other words, we read right here in the service to indicate that Scripture isn’t merely the foundation of our service, it comprises the content of our service.
Song(s) of Response
Again, after we’ve read about this glorious God and what he has done, we are compelled to express his worth through song, so we’ll typically sing two more songs here. These songs may be songs of praise, thanksgiving, lamentation, or just meditations on the gospel. In any case, we want for all of our services to be marked by bloody songs that adorn Jesus, and this is often a great place to embody such a commitment.
Next week we will continue our exploration of Emmaus’ liturgy by looking at Corporate and Private Confession, Assurance of Pardon, and the Song of Thanksgiving.
This is Part 1 of a four-part blog on the Liturgy at Emmaus. This article will consist of our rationale, as a Church, for the primary elements of our corporate worship service, and Parts 2 through 4 will dissect each element in our actual liturgy.
In a recent sermon that Pastor Josh preached on Leviticus, I was reminded afresh why we worship the way that we do here at Emmaus. In this sermon, Josh summarized the story of Nadab and Abihu in chapter 10—the story of Aaron’s two sons who tried to worship God in an unauthorized way and were immediately struck dead for their presumptuous thinking. How arrogant is was for them to think that they were entitled to innovate ways of approaching God distinct from the meticulous prescription God had graciously given. “I told you how I desire to be worshipped,” God was saying, “if you truly desire to express your love and adoration for me in worship, you would simply obey my commands.” In this story we are given a stark picture of the holiness of God—we dare not approach him flippantly by any means other than those which he has provided.
What, you may be asking, does this have to do with how we conduct our worship gatherings at Emmaus? Could Sam really be saying that if we were to change the way we order our services, fire would come down from heaven and consume the Church? No, I am not saying that at all. In fact, the most relevant application of this story for 21st century Christians has to do not with our corporate gatherings, but with the exclusivity of Christ. This story tells us that God provides the means for communing with him, and a healthy fear of his holiness ought to compel us to stick to those means. In Leviticus 10, the means were the preceding (and proceeding) instructions for animal blood-sacrifices and ritualistic cleansings. Today, the means is the blood-sacrifice of Jesus Christ (Heb. 10:19-25). The primary application, therefore, is this: don’t you dare try to commune with God by virtue of anything but the blood of Jesus Christ—if you try to predicate your intimacy with this God on anything but the blood of the Lamb (your works, your sincerity, your piety, etc.), you are committing the same sin as Nadab and Abihu.
This is why we exhort one another so often to come to Christ with empty hands; to self-justify your hearing before God with your own works is not only foolish (you could never do enough to justify a hearing before such a holy God), it’s also blasphemous. It’s tantamount to saying that what you offer is better than (or improves upon) the blood of Jesus.
However, there is a secondary application to this story, which goes along with the first. At the very least, Leviticus 10 tells us that God cares about how people worship him. This is why we, as a church, generally identify with what theologians call the “Regulative Principle” of worship. This simply means that we want for Scripture to regulate not just the who of corporate worship, but the how of corporate worship. And by “regulate,” I don’t simply mean, “define what’s off limits.” Rather, I’m saying that Scripture has told us what Christians are to do when they gather together to worship, and as a principle, we are committed to doing only what Scripture commands.
And what does Scripture command for New Testament believers to do corporately? We are commanded to:
- Read the Scriptures (1 Tim. 4:13)
- Teach/Preach the Scriptures (1 Tim. 4:13, 2 Tim. 4:1-2)
- Pray (1 Tim. 2:1, Acts 2:42, 4:23-31)
- Sing (Col. 3:12-17)
- Participate in Communion/Baptism (1 Cor. 11:23-34, Acts 2:38, Matt. 28:19)
That’s it. That’s what we should be doing when we gather together corporately. Our liturgy should not include anything that doesn’t fit comfortably inside those five corporate commands. And by “comfortably,” I mean that we shouldn’t try to squeeze movie clips, dance routines, or that guy who throws paint on a canvas to depict what looks like nothing at all until he flips it right-side-up to reveal he was actually painting a very Caucasian Jesus, into the category of “teaching/preaching Scripture.” There’s not a single quote from The Office, for example, that could ever be followed up with “thus sayeth the Lord!”; a clip of The Office would be totally out of step with the purpose of the corporate worship gathering
Now, some churches may venture outside of these five elements that the New Testament explicitly commands. They may even do so without shifting from the gospel as their central point of emphasis. Should such churches anticipate facing a similar fate as Nadab and Abihu? I don’t think so. But I do think they are wrong not to subscribe to the Regulative Principle for three reasons.
This Is God’s Church
The Regulative Principle fosters a corporate understanding that a particular congregation belongs to God, while the alternative fosters a corporate understanding that a particular congregation belongs to the congregation (or, more often, the leadership of the congregation). God purchased the church with his own blood, and has subsequently placed her under the stewardship of elders (Acts 20:28). This means that church leaders cannot do with their flocks as they please, they do not own their churches. Emmaus does not belong to our pastors, she belongs to Jesus Christ. The regulative principle establishes an impulse among our Church leaders to ask, “What would the owner of this Church like for us to do?” I do not think the same could be said of the alternative principle, which merely looks to Scripture for prohibitions and then leaves the church to operate according to the whims of popular opinion or the fleeting charisma of personalities.
God’s Church Is Governed By God’s Word
The Regulative Principle reinforces the conviction that Christians live their lives positively directed by the Word of God, rather than merely guarded by the prohibitions of God’s Word. The alternative principle, in my estimation, inherently reinforces the natural sinful perspective that Christianity can be defined by what people are not allowed to do, and that life is ultimately to be governed according the autonomous whims of the individual. Conversely, the Regulative Principle is an object lesson in and of itself, teaching that Scripture does not merely set boundaries for how Christians should not live, but also directs Christians positively for how they should live. In other words, the Regulative Principle aids in the command to “let the word of Christ dwell richly in [the corporate midst].” (Colossians 1:16)
God Cares about How We Worship
The regulative principle assumes that God actually cares about how he is worshiped. Though our means of approaching God (the shed blood of Jesus) and Nadab and Abihu’s means of approaching God (the Levitical priestly offerings) are different, the God we are worshiping is one and the same, and thus the manner in which we worship him should be the same (i.e., with reverence and special attention to what he has said about proper worship). Further, Leviticus tells us what kind of God he is. He is a gracious God who provides what he requires (a means), and he is a holy God who cares about how he is worshiped.
On the cusp of the New Covenant’s arrival, Jesus informs the Samaritan woman at the well, “The hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him.” (John 4:23) Notice, he does not say that the Father is seeking worshipers who worship him “however they see fit.” We want to look to the Word of God to see what Christ means when he says “in truth.” If we begin with self, and then merely look to Scripture for approval or disapproval, we do not cast the appropriate shroud of suspicion on the preferences of sinners—even if we are sinners who are saved by grace.
For these reasons, we have structured our service to hang only on that which Scripture commands. Next week, we’ll carefully dissect each element of our liturgy and explore the various purposes of our liturgical format.
All Creatures of Our God and King
My One Comfort
The Wonderful Grace of Jesus
Now Why This Fear
Before the Throne of God Above
Call to Worship
The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy. Its rising is from the end of the heavens, and its circuit to the end of them, and there is nothing hidden from its heat. – Psalm 19:1-6
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! – Psalm 51:1-2
Assurance of Pardon
The former priests were many in number, because they were prevented by death from continuing in office, but he holds his priesthood permanently, because he continues forever. Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them. – Hebrews 7:23-25
Now may our glorious, Triune God bless you and keep; the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.
This coming Sunday, we will begin a brief three-part series on the incarnation. The incarnation, if you’re unfamiliar with the term, is the Christian doctrine that affirms the mystery that God became a man. This doctrine properly belongs to a theological category we refer to as Christology. So why are we doing this brief, heavily theological series? One simple reason is this: it’s Christmas season! This is a season of the year in which our “post-Christian” culture unanimously agrees to celebrate the most marvelous mystery at the heart of the Christian faith. Would you like some proof? Just try to count how many times you hear O Come, All Ye Faithful, or Hark! The Herald Angels Sing on the radio, or at the grocery store. As you casually glance through the refrigerated section of Walmart, looking for eggnog, what do you hear?
Yea, Lord, we greet Thee,
born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be all glory giv’n;
Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.
Then, as you get into your car and turn on the radio, sandwiched between Jingle Bell Rock and Santa Baby is a Pop artist singing,
Christ, by highest heav’n adored;
Christ, the everlasting Lord
Late in time behold Him come,
Offspring of the Virgin’s Womb.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail the incarnate Deity,
Pleased as man with man to dwell
Jesus our Emmanual.
In light of all this, it would be a shame for us, as a church, to miss the opportunity to pause and reflect on this glorious truth. And by the way, to the Scrooges out there who protest our celebration of Christmas with “Don’t you know it started as a pagan holiday?!” I offer you this fitting response which I heard from another pastor: “It’s no problem that Christians celebrate a holiday that used to be a pagan holiday, we all used to be pagans.” But I digress.
The reality that God, without ceasing to be God, became a man, is what separates Christianity from every other theory of the world. Our faith doesn’t hinge on abstract philosophical axioms, it hinges on a cosmic event in which God invades history—in which the Creator adds creaturliness to his nature, without at all diminishing his Creator-ness.
There is a reason why this doctrine is always referred to as a great mystery. But it’s not the kind of mystery in which knowledge is hidden, and investigative skills are required to uncover a truth. Rather, it’s the kind of mystery in which knowledge is flashed in front of your face, and it’s so unbelievably glorious that you’re left awestruck and stammering, “How…? Why…?” It’s the kind of mystery that elicits wonder and worship, a kind in which you are invited to delve in deep in meditation and study. It’s like a mountain that taunts at you, “Go ahead, climb me. I dare you!” And that’s exactly what we’re doing in this brief series, we are climbing Everest! We want to try and strip away the familiarity of the Christmas season and grapple with the glories of the incarnation that still pervade this season. As a people who love the gospel, we must love the incarnation, for it is not an exaggeration to say that without the incarnation, there is no gospel.
This series will begin with a sermon on the folly and the scandal of the incarnation. We will focus on the marvelously counterintuitive nature of the incarnation; God condescends and becomes man. All of our songs this week will help us as meditate on the contrast between God’s glory, and man’s frailty, and the mystery of Jesus embodying both. But one song that will help us in this uniquely is Come and Stand Amazed. It’s an old Dutch hymn that was translated in 1987, and the version we’ll be singing is an arrangement Citizens and Saints recorded in 2013. The song masterfully displays the starkness of God’s condescension in the incarnation, with lyrics like, “See the Mighty, weak and tender / See the Word who now is mute / See the Sovereign without Splendor / See the Fullness destitute”
The link to the song is below, but here are the lyrics:
Come and stand amazed you people
See how God has reconciled
See his plans of love accomplished
See his gift, this newborn child
See the Mighty, weak and tender
See the Word who now is mute
See the Sovereign without splendor
See the Fullness destitute
See how humankind received him
See him wrapped in swaddling bands
Who as Lord of all creation
Rules the wind by his command
See him lying in manger
Without sign of reasoning
Word of God, to flesh surrendered
He is wisdom’s crown, our King
O Lord Jesus, God incarnate
Who assumed this humble form
Counsel me and let me wishes
To your perfect will conform
Light of life, dispel my darkness
Let your frailty strengthen me
Let your weakness give me boldness
Let your burden set me free
O Emmanuel my Savior
Let your death be life for me
Behold the Christ
Come and Stand Amazed
Come Thou Long Expected Jesus
High and Humble King
Come to Me
Recently, I read an article entitled Real Evangelism Is Trinitarian, which I commend to you for your edification. Basically, the gist of the article is this: if your evangelism isn’t shaped by the Trinity, it’s not real evangelism. In the article, Glen Scrivener takes time to deal with some of the objections one may have about Trinitarian evangelism (e.g., “it’s too complicated”) and some of the misconceptions about what Trinitarian evangelism looks like (e.g., “let me tell about the Trinity, it’s kind of like an egg”). Once we get past some of those preliminary road-bumps, grasping the idea is a pretty smooth ride. Who is this Jesus that we are inviting people to put their faith in? He is Jesus, the Son of God. Jesus is irreducibly God the Son, which means, he’s got a Father–the eternal Father. And not only that, but also, this Jesus lives and communes with his Father through the eternal Spirit, and when we put our faith in this Jesus, we get his Spirit as our seal. In other words, you can’t simply “save the Trinity for later.” You don’t get the gospel without the Trinity; even the benefits of the gospel are Trinitarian (a Christian is adopted into the family of God, with Jesus as his brother, Jesus’ Father as his Father, and Jesus’ Spirit as his Spirit), and prayer is Trinitarian (we pray to God the Father, through the atoning and mediating work of the Son, by the power of the Spirit).
What does all of this have to do with Emmaus and this week’s Looking to Sunday? Well, this week, we are finishing our book study through Philippians. Remember, we’ve entitled this book study “Partnership In the Gospel,” and our elders chose this book because they believe we have room to grow in the area of evangelism–we need to partner together for the advancement of the gospel. Throughout this study, we have been challenged in many ways to share the gospel with the lost. My prayer (and the prayer of our elders) is that this study would set a precedence for the rest of our lives; we don’t want to just be serious about evangelism during the weeks that we study through Philippians, we want our lives–like Paul’s–to be marked by a zeal for gospel advancement. As we go and evangelize, it’s important that we are evangelizing as Trinitarian Christians.
However, if we aren’t thinking about the God we worship in Trinitarian categories regularly, we won’t share the good news of this Triune God. So for my own part as a worship leader, I am doing everything I can to assure that our worship services are shaped by the Trinity. I want our public prayers to be shaped by the Trinity. I want our confessions and assurances of pardon to be shaped by the Trinity. I want our benedictions to be shaped by the Trinity. In short, I want you to know and love that the God I invite you to worship with me on Sunday mornings is Triune.
This week, we will be singing the “Doxology,” which is an explicitly Trinitarian hymn that Christians have been singing in a multitude of languages for hundreds of years. I’ve written two additional verses to this hymn that try to retain the song’s same theme of the sovereign power and glory of our Triune God. You can hear the new recording in the link below. Here are all the lyrics to the song:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise him, all creatures here below!
Praise him above, ye heavenly hosts!
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
Praise God who spoke and made dust flesh!
Praise God who fills inhabitants!
Praise God who opens eyes of men,
To see his worth and treasure him!
Praise Father God who sent his Son!
Praise Christ who makes peace by his blood!
Praise to the Spirit who seals us!
Praise the Almighty Three-in-One!
We will also be singing “My One Comfort” (link below). This song was written by Dustin Kensrue, and is a musical adaptation to the first question and answer of the Heidelberg Catechism (by the way, parents, if you’re looking for a catechism to work through with your kids, this one is great!). Again, the song is explicitly Trinitarian, and is therefore instructional for true worship (and subsequently, true evangelism). Here are the lyrics:
My one comfort both in life and death
Is that I am not my own
I’ve been bought with blood and I confess
I belong to you alone!
By the Father’s good decree,
Jesus, you’ve delivered me
By your Spirit, set me free
To follow you
Jesus you have taken hold of me
And in your grip of grace I’m finally free
My One Comfort
Father, You are All We Need
Come Thou Fount
Now Why This Fear