A Reflection by Roy Pearson
One of the gifts of the Christian faith is its beautiful variety. Across centuries and cultures, believers have found countless ways to worship the God who created us, redeems us, and sustains us. Some traditions offer written prayers, icons, and a rich liturgy; others prefer spontaneous praise, simple gatherings, and a focus on preaching. Some view the Lord’s Supper as a memorial, while others receive it as the Eucharist—the Holy Mystery of Christ’s presence. All of these streams seek the same Source.
I have worshiped in both liturgical and non-liturgical settings, and over the years I have come to treasure the depth and discipline that liturgical worship brings into my life. The Daily Office guides me into the presence of God through the Psalms, the Old and New Testament readings, and the Gospel. It invites me to sit with Scripture long enough for it to seep into my heart and challenge my understanding. The rhythm of prayer shapes my days and anchors my spirit.
Each Sunday, the Eucharist draws me to Christ in a profound way. There is a mystery at that table—an encounter with the living Christ who dwells in me through the Holy Spirit. I cannot fully explain it, but I know that in bread and wine I meet grace, nourishment, and renewal.
I also love the beauty of the liturgical year: the colors, the symbols, the intentional shifts in focus. In Advent, I remember the Christ who came as a baby in Bethlehem, the Christ who comes to us daily, and the Christ who will come again as King. The seasons invite me to walk with Jesus through His story so that His story shapes mine.
Liturgical worship may not be for everyone, and that is perfectly alright. God meets His people in many ways. What matters most is not the form but the transformation. For me, liturgy has cultivated a hunger and thirst for righteousness. Studying the saints across two thousand years has reminded me that we walk a well-trodden path, supported by the witness of those who faithfully followed Christ before us.
Whatever our tradition—formal or informal, ancient or contemporary—may we remember the greatest commandments: to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. May we honor one another’s worship rather than condemn it, celebrating the diverse ways God draws His people into communion with Him.
In the end, all our worship—however different—rises to the same God. And in that unity, we find grace.
The Curious Pilgrims 