Read

John 4:23 “Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.”

Think

Have you ever walked into a worship service and instantly started evaluating everything? The volume. The song choice. The lighting. The preacher’s delivery. Whether you “felt it” or not. It’s easy to slip into the role of a consumer when we’re looking for what’s in it for us.

But worship was never meant to revolve around us.

Jesus told the woman at the well that true worshipers are the kind the Father seeks. Not skilled performers. Not emotional reactors. Not those who chase their favorite vibe or venue. He’s looking for people who worship in spirit and in truth—people whose worship is anchored in who God is, not how they feel.

We often confuse emotional impact with spiritual authenticity. If we cry, we assume it was powerful. If we don’t, we assume God wasn’t in it. But true worship isn’t measured by what we feel—it’s measured by what we surrender.

Think about a mirror. It only reflects what it’s aimed at. Our worship reveals whatever is at the center of our focus. If we’re thinking about the sound, the setlist, or the style, the mirror points back to us. But if we’re fixated on God—his beauty, his holiness, his mercy—the mirror reflects his glory.

We may not be bowing before golden calves, but many of us have started bowing to the method. Some of us worship tradition. We want it the way it was. Hymns. Pews. Choir robes. Others worship innovation. We crave the lights, the haze, the new sound. Neither style is wrong. But neither should be the point.

That’s what the Second Commandment warns us against—not just crafting idols from wood or gold, but crafting a version of God we can control. And sometimes, the idol we’re clinging to is the way we’ve always worshiped.

It’s like falling in love with the wrapping paper instead of the gift. We start to believe that God only moves when things feel just right. That he only shows up when our favorite worship leader is on stage or when the lights dim at the perfect moment. But God doesn’t need an emotional cue. He doesn’t move on our timeline or according to our preferences.

Imagine giving someone a heartfelt gift, and they spend the whole time complimenting the bag it came in. That’s what it’s like when we obsess over the worship style more than the God we’re worshiping.

Worship is not about your favorite song. It’s not about emotional moments. It’s not about feeling something during the bridge. Real worship is when your heart bows before God whether the room is electric or silent, whether the band is flawless or struggling, whether you’re full of joy or barely holding on.

In the Old Testament, worship meant bringing your best sacrifice. It cost you something. And that hasn’t changed. Worship still costs us our pride, our preferences, our need to be entertained. It demands honesty. It invites reverence. And most of all, it requires that we take our eyes off of ourselves.

God is not waiting for better lighting or more passionate music. He’s waiting for hearts that want him more than they want an experience. Some of the deepest worship in Scripture happened in deserts, in prisons, in silence. Not in polished temples, but in raw, desperate moments. Paul and Silas worshiped in chains. David worshiped in caves. Jesus sang a hymn the night before he was crucified. Worship is not about the environment. It’s about the encounter.

And that encounter starts when we stop asking, “Did I get something out of this?” and start asking, “Did God receive something from me?”

True worship isn’t about escape. It’s about alignment. It brings our scattered hearts back into sync with who God is. Even when we don’t feel anything. Even when nothing changes around us. Worship often changes us before it ever changes our situation.

We don’t worship to get God to move. We worship because he already has. He’s already spoken, already saved, already present. And that’s enough.

Apply

At your next opportunity to worship—whether in a church, your car, or your living room—ask yourself honestly: who is this about right now?

If it’s been more about preference than presence, just admit that to God. Then choose to respond to him anyway. Sing the song you don’t love. Kneel even when no one else does. Worship with your whole heart, even if the atmosphere isn’t your favorite. Worship doesn’t start when the music is good. It starts when your heart is surrendered.

Pray

God, I confess that I’ve made worship about me—what I want to hear, how I want to feel, what I think it should sound like. Remind me that you are the center. Help me worship you in spirit and in truth. Strip away my distractions. Teach me to bring you my heart, no matter the method or moment. You are worthy of my full attention and affection. In Jesus’ name. Amen.