I was sitting in a worship service and was wondering, “Am I really worshipping?” I looked at some of the others sitting nearby. Was that detached, seemingly only moderately attentive demeanor the fitting heart-response to the worship of the living God? We assert that because of Jesus and what he did for us that we can draw near to the living God; but then it seems we often just yawn and stretch and hope the time goes by quickly.

Why is that? How can we who claim to know God remain so unmoved in our meeting with him?

As I was thinking about this, my thoughts turned to Leviticus 1. Obviously not a passage that immediately comes to mind when a Christian thinks about worship. I have no interest in re-instituting the Old Testament sacrificial system. But there was something there for me; something to prod my thoughts.

Chapter 1 of Leviticus details how someone was to come to worship the living God. He or she had to bring their sacrifice. And then the worshipper had to get involved. After identifying with the animal to be killed, the worshipper kept his hand on the animal as its life was forfeit. Then it fell to the worshipper to skin and cut up the offering, presenting the pieces to the priests to be burned. And then the “soothing aroma” (Leviticus 1:9) of the worship would arise from the sacrifice.

When it was all said and done, the worshipper would have been covered in blood, sweat, and (probably) flies. No chance that you could just be an observer to this experience of worship. You couldn’t sit idly by while the “worship service” went on. To worship required active participation.

I wonder if that opens a window into seeing what is amiss in my worship. I come and sometimes just watch. I sit idly by while the worship service goes on around me. I don’t really enter into the invitation to meet with the God, and so I remain unmoved.

I am not advocating a return to the sacrificial system. Jesus’ life, death, resurrection, and ascension replaced all of that. He is our high priest, our sacrifice, our temple, our offering, our all. But I don’t experience the compelling wonder and delight of worship if I remain detached, uninvolved, only watchful.

What can I learn from a worshipper who lived out of Leviticus? A few thoughts.

I should approach times and opportunities of worship as if they were the most meaningful moments of my life. Personally identifying with the sacrifice to be made on my behalf could hardly be rightly carried out apathetically. I could tell myself, as I step into a time of worship, “This is about meeting with the living God!”

I should approach times and opportunities of worship with attentiveness to what I am doing. Personally participating in the presentation of the expression of worship would not have been something you could do carelessly or inattentively. I could remember, “This celebration of Jesus’ life and death and resurrection is about his rescuing me, rescuing us, from death.”

I should anticipate that my times and opportunities of worship won’t leave me untouched. Personally entering into this experience of worship would not leave you clean and cool, calm and detached. I could allow myself to be touched by the reality: “This God I meet in Jesus has come to invade my soul by his Spirit.”

Although I come to God wholly and solely on the basis of what Jesus has done for me without even a glance to my own efforts or contribution to the redemption that he has procured for me, I think I could learn from this worshipper in Leviticus. I come on different grounds, but thinking as he must have thought opens the way for me to come differently than I so often do.