At the heart I am an artist. To be more specific, I am a “performance artist.” Now, both of these words – “performance” and “artist” – have not always had great track records within the church, especially as it relates to worship. Artists have been seen by some to be superfluous to the act of “serious” liturgy or just trying to gain attention for themselves, rather than God, through their art forms. And then artists have been careful to deny what they do as “performance” specifically because of these accusations. But I am, in the act of planning and implementing (and even teaching) worship, a performance artist. There… I’ve said it. Why would I want to risk identifying as a performance artist when what I do is design and lead (and teach about) worship?

This is why: I believe that to claim designing and implementing worship as an “art form” is essential to creating opportunities for persons to worship deeply and meaningfully. When sights, sounds, words, music, lighting, movement all work in concert to provide the environment in which to meet the living God–when we are not distracted by flow that doesn’t flow–when symbols mesh seamlessly with the Word proclaimed and link us artfully to our lives, then we are able to enter deeply and soulfully into a special time and space. When worship leaders understand their role as those who facilitate spiritual journeys rather than simply prodding us through linear steps from A to B, they are “performers” in the best sense of that word: they allow the Spirit to move through (per) a form so that all can enter into this special time and space. They act as guides to the structure in which the transformative action of God’s Spirit can work through the liberating narrative of Jesus. And when that narrative is “performed” in artful ways, we are touched and moved by it.

Let me give an example… (UM Clergywomen’s Consultation)

… I just returned home from the United Methodist Clergywomen’s Consultation in Chicago. It was an amazing gathering of 1500 women where I had the privilege of designing worship for one of the mornings. The consultation had as its scriptural foundation the passage from Isaiah 61: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim Good News to the oppressed…” The opening song for the worship I designed was one of my favorites, “Spirit, Spirit of Gentleness, blow through the wilderness, calling and free…” Rather than simply singing this song to begin, I wanted to fill this moment with an artful “experience” of stepping into a special time and space where God would meet us, the Spirit would blow among us, and we would feel the anointing power again in our lives. How we begin worship is so important. It is a time when we will either make the transition into a sacred journey or spend the hour thinking about where we want to go eat lunch.

After I had welcomed the women to the service, I invited them to enter into a sacred darkness in preparation. Having made sure people were seated, the lights dimmed and went out, except for a faint glow on the stage (so musicians could see!). We then heard a soundtrack of a gentle wind blowing for about 10 seconds and a lone violin began the first line of the hymn slowly. A cello played the second line and then they began to harmonize together with the piano softly joining. After they had played through the whole refrain, our song leader simply invited us, through her gestures alone, to sing the refrain softly while the wind still was heard blowing. When our refrain died down, the piano continued to underscore as Mary’s Magnificat was read by a young woman coming forward in the center aisle through the dark, flanked by persons processing the light of Christ and a jar of oil. When she finished the scripture, we continued to sing the verse of the song recalling the presence of the Spirit with Mary at the birth of Jesus… “You sang in a stable…” When we got to the sung refrain once again, the music began to crescendo, the lights slowly brightened and the congregation was invited, again with a simple gesture, to stand as we sang. This raising of energy prepared us for the next step in our journey, a Prayer of Invocation and Call to Worship that moved seamlessly out of this opening. There was a feeling of awe and excitement that had transported us out of the ordinary. And it was an artful attention to lighting, dramatic reading, sound and dynamics that helped us to reach this place.

Now, I can hear you say, “But we don’t have violins and cellos and lighting controls!” Don’t despair–there are many ways to create artful attention to dynamics even with the most basic of resources. The bottom line here is that we must think of ourselves in the design process as artists. And we must recognize that implementing a good structure with care (per-form) can facilitate deeply moving moments of spirit-filled worship! Watch for more on this in my next book.