I remember how my mom and dad would usher my older sister, Jodi, and me into our family car every Sunday, and we’d make our way to our local Assemblies of God church. I recall how everyone in our congregation would raise their voices and sing out with all their hearts:

In the years since, Pastor Jack had made a tremendous impact on me—both directly and indirectly. I was first introduced to his writings when I attended Bible college because the curriculum included a few of his books. As time went on and I became a worship pastor, I really began diving deeply into the theology and significance of worship. It is during this time that I truly began to discover the treasure contained within his writings. Many of Pastor Jack’s teachings and books have significantly shaped my understanding of worship.

However, Pastor Jack’s heart for worship isn’t confined only to the books, the teachings and the songs he writes; it’s also very much a part of who he is and how he lives. Every time I’ve had the opportunity to be in a worship service with him, I’ve witnessed him worshipping with all of his heart and strength, arms outstretched in adoration of his heavenly Father. Pastor Jack’s passion for worship is keenly evident in all that he says and does.

Whenever Pastor Jack visits Gateway Church, I love it when he and I can connect after a service. Sometimes he asks for sheet music for a particular song, while other times he tells me how a song personally ministered to him. He always makes an intentional effort to say something encouraging and affirming about the worship at Gateway.

Perhaps one of the most significant ways Pastor Jack has influenced my life comes from a story I once heard from him. Every Sunday night, he made a habit of walking around the sanctuary of his church in Van Nuys, California, laying hands on each seat, and praying for God’s blessings on the people who would sit in them at the Sunday morning services. On one occasion, three other individuals joined him. They each went to a different corner and faced the center of the room with their hands extended in worship and prayer. Out of that experience, the Lord led Pastor Jack to Revelation 4, which speaks about the four living creatures who worship around the throne night and day. Ten days later, God gave him a vivid mental picture of the throne room of God descending and resting in alignment with the sanctuary of his church. One room blended into the other, with multitudes of heavenly hosts and earthly individuals raising their hearts in worship and praise to the One True King. From this, Pastor Jack came to a single conclusion: God is at work simultaneously in the visible and the invisible, in the physical and the spiritual, and a worshipping church stands at the heart of His reign. Why is this true? Because a church at worship is an expression of the power of the kingdom of God present now on earth, with the literal presence of God resting in the midst of the sanctuary.

As I heard Pastor Jack’s story, he once again changed my perspective of worship. Every time we gather as a church in worship, I pray that God will rest in the center of our midst as our voices join with the saints, elders, and angels in giving Him the glory that He alone deserves.

However, Pastor Jack’s life and teachings have not only personally influenced me and my understanding of worship; but they have also shaped the face of worship in the church as a whole today. Although he would humbly refuse to accept such a description about himself, I believe he is as equivalent to a modern-day Apostle Paul as anyone alive today. A glance back at his life, his ministry, and his legacy provides overwhelming evidence to this statement. Look beyond the large number of books he has written, the hundreds of songs he has composed, and his decades of faithful ministry, and you will find a man whose life is characterized by his deep, abiding passion to hear and obey God’s voice through the Holy Spirit. The modern landscape of worship would look very different if it were not for him. He is truly a worship pioneer, and Worship His Majesty is his signature work on the topic.

Whether you’re revisiting this classic book or experiencing it for the very first time, I believe God is going to speak to you. As you make your way through each chapter, I pray that you will absorb more than just information. I am asking God to make Pastor Jack’s passion and heart for worship yours as well.

All of these people are worshipping. In some cases, the worship is formal and easy to recognize. In others, we would generally hesitate to call it worship at all. However, everyone worships something or someone, and what you worship has a great influence on what you are—and what you will become.

Many people don’t recognize what it is they worship because they don’t have a clear idea of what worship means. Understanding the meaning of worship is a good beginning place, because until we understand its meaning, we’ll never understand its exercise.

Worship comes from the old English word weorthscipe and means “to ascribe worth unto.” We’ll look at this concept in depth later in the book, but the essential idea is that whatever it is that you value most highly, or give the greatest worth, is what you worship. You can see that people worship many different things, although we can justly say that worship rightfully belongs to God, for no one else can lay claim to the position of highest value in any person’s life.

Let me say that again because I cannot overemphasize it: you become like the god you worship.

Worship means you are developing a set of values; you are determining what you desire most. Worship means you are choosing priorities; you are establishing what holds first place in your life. Worship means you are determining what you are to become; you are choosing in whose image you will be made. The gods that one worships begin to manifest their attributes in the worshipper. Therefore, in deciding what or whom to worship, you are also making decisions about your values and priorities, and how you should live.

Those who seek the Lord will find Him. They will discover the true purpose for which they were made and, ultimately, the fulfillment of that purpose. Those who follow another god will discover what that god provides, whether it is worry, decadence, or emptiness. J. B. Phillips has said there is a God-shaped vacuum in every one of us—a vacuum that only God can fill. Worship is a way to fill that place inside us. Augustine said, “Lord, You’ve made us for Yourself, and our hearts find no rest till they find it in You.” God created us for Himself, and the fulfillment of our hearts comes as a direct result of our approaching Him and coming to know Him. There can be no other fulfillment for that “God-shaped” place in us than the Lord Himself.

Finally, your worship will determine what flows from your life. Our highest attainment comes through glorifying Him who is worthy of all glory. Some may find temporary glory in their works or pursuits. Some may even be remembered beyond their lifetimes. But the one who worships the Lord—looking to the unseen rather than to the seen as we go through our present trials—will find what Paul calls an “eternal weight of glory” working in his life. That person will have a glory that endures.

God reveals Himself to those who bow before Him and seek Him. If with all your heart you truly seek Him, you will find Him. Then, when you discover what He’s really like, glorifying Him will be the only natural response. Worship will lead you along that path.

For two weeks, my wife Anna and I had been probing the corners of Scotland, Wales, and England in our tiny rental car, setting our own pace as we drove from place to place. We slowly grew accustomed to a left-hand-drive roadway system, but the caution and patience required by such unfamiliarity was not expediting our progress. So we chose a leisurely pace, visiting castles and cottages at our whim. Nothing dictated our schedule except that we were supposed to be at Oxford the third week of July. I was to participate in a conference there, studying the phenomenon of Spiritual Awakenings in a seminar under Dr. Edwin Orr’s direction, following which we would return home to Los Angeles.

That summer the whole nation was enjoying a certain regal festivity as the people anticipated the silver anniversary of Elizabeth’s coronation as Queen. It was amid this prevailing air of rejoicing in royalty that we were introduced to England. Landing in Glasgow, after ten days of preaching in Denmark, we began our journey—sampling the variety of climates, customs, cuisine, and clothing styles from Inverness to Edinburgh to Llangollen to the Cotswolds. By the time we arrived in London, a special sense of wonder had overtaken us.

Occasionally I attempted to put into words the emotions I felt as history spoke to me at every turn. Whether we were quietly sitting in a park, reading an engraved plaque antedating us by centuries, strolling beside the Thames, or pushing our way through the crowds shopping at Harrods, an elusive sense of “the grand, the regal, and the noble” caught my imagination and defied my efforts at definition. However, on a side trip we made into Oxfordshire that definition came by surprise. It included a lesson I hadn’t expected, and resulted in a song I hadn’t sought.

It happened the day we drove to Blenheim.

Blenheim Palace is the massive estate built at Queen Anne’s orders in the early eighteenth century. She presented it to John Churchill, the first duke of Marlborough, in honor of his leadership in the military victories against Spain. Two centuries later, Winston Churchill would be born and raised here, frequently retiring to this site for rest from the rigors of leadership during World War II. It was at Blenheim that he wrote many of his stirring speeches—speeches that inspired the English people to sustain their efforts at staving off Hitler’s Luftwaffe, which was close to suffocating their will to survive.

The idea effervesced within me. I seemed to have touched the nerve of a concept that had to do with far more than Blenheim and Churchill. It had first to do with that “something” Anna and I had felt these weeks as we traveled around Britain. However, it also extended to a fundamental issue of human nature—the grounds of self-worth and the purpose of human existence. All tied in together were unspoken questions and partial answers concerning how people perceive themselves and God’s order of things. In some special way, there were traces of a larger and more complete pathway to discovering one’s true identity and purpose—something realized in an undeclared, but real, national consciousness.

I’m not presuming that in one instant I plumbed the depths of a nation’s psyche. However, I do feel that somehow my single observation began to explain a great deal of the spirit that permeates this small nation of such historic consequence. Here, only a generation ago, an outnumbered band, surpassed by superior technology, withstood the most sinister and vicious manifestation of evil in history. Motivating them was an inherent sense of righteousness, but driving the will to hold their ground was an awakened sense of destiny coupled with a historic sense of royalty as a clan.

Even as I stood there, millions of common folk of ordinary means were enthused and excited about celebrating one woman’s royal ascent a quarter of a century earlier. This wasn’t a case of idolatry, nor an instance of the mindless masses cowering before a ruling tyrant with no choice of doing otherwise. On the contrary, the people were rejoicing. The entire kingdom possessed a general mood of personal and national significance. It seems inescapably linked in some mystical way to the fact that each one perceives himself linked with, and personally represented by, the one who wears the crown and bears the scepter. To a visitor from another country, there seems to be a national dignity that flows to the general citizenry from the regal office of a single individual who reigns over them, exercising authority as an ennobled friend rather than as a feudal overlord.

Then a second thought exploded. This sense of dignity is the essence of the relationship Jesus wants us to have with His Church! He wants the fullness of His power, the richness of His nature, the authority of His office, and the wealth of His resources to ennoble our identity and determine our destiny!

Notwithstanding the deep emotion filling my soul, a holy calm and genuine joy possessed me. Standing there, my gaze sweeping the scene once again—the verdant, lush fields, the fragrance of roses everywhere, the magnificent architecture, with the stateliness of historic bearing—I gently squeezed Anna’s hand.

“Honey, I can hardly describe to you all the things this setting evokes in me. There is something of a majesty in all this, and I believe it has a great deal to do with why people who lived here have been of such consequence in the shaping of history. I don’t mean that buildings and beauty can beget greatness, but I do feel that some people fail to perceive their possibilities because of their dismal surroundings.”

As we continued our walk, I spoke further of my concerns with which she agreed. She felt, as I did, a pastoral longing for people to understand the fullness of Jesus, to perceive His high destiny for each of them, and to see that our self-realization only comes through a realization of Him! How completely and unselfishly He invites us to become partners with Him in His Kingdom. He wants to transmit His Kingdom authority to us and through us as a flow of His life, love, and healing to a hopeless and hurting world.

Now something expanding and deepening that understanding was welling up within me. What had been undefined but sensed for more than two weeks of vacation journeying was now distilling into a single moment of awareness.

Majesty.

The word was crisp in my mind.

Majesty, I thought. It’s the quality of Christ’s royalty and Kingdom glory that not only displays His excellence, but that lifts us by His sheer grace and power, allowing us to identify with and share in His wonder.

As Queen Elizabeth’s throne somehow dignifies every English citizen and makes multitudes of others partakers in a commonwealth of royal heritage, our ascended Savior sits enthroned and offers His regal resources to each of us.

As a nation rose against the personification of evil in the Nazi scourge, ignited to action by a leader who perceived himself a person of destiny created by a childhood identification with the majestic, so may the Church arise.

“In my name they will cast out demons” (Mark 16:17), the King declared; and in going forth by the power flowing from His Throne, “the Lord working with them, and confirming the word through the accompanying signs” (Mark 16:20).

The crowds were increasing at Blenheim, and the marvel of the moment seemed no less real for becoming less intimate. “Let’s go, honey,” I said, and we started for the car. My soul was still resonating with the sound of a distant chord struck in heaven, but still a lost chord to much of the Church.

I began to dictate the key, the musical notes, the time value of each, and the lyrics (and she still insists that she wrote the song!):

At a time in history when more and more people lack this sense of worth, and at a time when the Church is uniquely equipped to address that emptiness, this song sounds forth a prophetic message:

This book elaborates its meaning for all who sing it.

Or the pulpit.

Or the communion table.

Or the organ bench … or pipes.

Or the choirmaster’s music stand.

Or any place both visible and su?ciently shocking to provide a counterpart to the ancient door at Wittenberg.

When Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the university entryway, the sparks from his hammer ignited the Reformation.

A half-millennium ago, the Church was shaken to its roots—dragged by the nape of the neck to confront the reality of God’s Word—and forced to face the fact that its forms had chained its people rather than freed them.

The Reformers trumpeted the dual truths of “justification by faith” and “the priesthood of the believer” and the true church—the people of God—was released through a recovery of the revelation of God’s Word.

We might even ask if we are we in the earthquake throes of a new Reformation right now, even though we haven’t defined its epicenter.

I think so. I think the twentieth century has been a hundred-year travail that is about to birth more than a Third Millennium. I believe we are about to see The Church Glorious emerge on the world scene.

I do not doubt that Christ could come again today. Whether He does or not, one thing is clear—the Holy Spirit already has come, and He’s moving through the Temple and turning over tables. The surging waves of renewal’s tide are flowing deeper and deeper until, today, the only place to escape is to flee to the high tower of traditionalism.

I want to underscore the reformation in worship that is in progress. This movement has already begun, and its fruit has been tested and proven worthy in a su?cient number of situations to show we are not simply dealing with a fad.

I do believe in the vision of The Church Glorious—the here-and-now unveiling of the Bride of Christ at a dimension of purity and power unknown heretofore. I don’t believe in triumphalism—that pretend-world of the religious idealist who supposes that a band of super-saints will rise to take the earth by force and dominate society through supernatural power or political control. However, there is a kingdom to take and there is a force to exert, and the People of the Highest are the ones to do both.

Worship is being redefined in terms of its form and focus. It isn’t that we must scorn or discard valid traditions, but rather that newness must refill them with meaning. It isn’t that we are trading objective adoration of God for a shallow subjectivism by worshippers. Rather, more people are discovering a simple, fulfilling intimacy as they praise Him.

Worship is being unwrapped in the removal of sectarian prejudices that have preempted interdenominational participation in biblical practices of worship heretofore labeled and shelved by feuding parties in the Body of Christ. Upraised hands are less and less a badge of the Charismatic and are becoming a simple sign of Christian praise. A learned appreciation for the dignity of liturgical life is increasingly finding a place among people who otherwise would have deemed it lifeless.

Worship is being unsealed as well. A theology of worship is coming into perspective that lends biblical dimension to the whole reformation process. The lid of traditional theology is being lifted. More are proposing worship as a dignifying, empowering act for man. Yet we are not seeking to make God man’s servant. The historic approach to the doctrine of worship has focused so much on God, in an effort to verify His glory and underscore man’s unworthiness that an unwitting surrender to “works” in worship has resulted. For example, the honest quest “to worthily worship God as He deserves to be worshipped,” easily becomes performance-oriented and hermetically sealed against simple love, warmth, and emotion. The intellectual and artistic demands of religious duty may easily intrude upon the best intent of the worshipper, and suddenly we become those who “draw near to Me with their mouth, And honor Me with their lips, But their heart is far from Me” (Matthew 15:8).

The fruit of the Reformation of Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, Knox, and Huss’ time was the unchaining of God’s people. A new faith, not in church tradition, but in the Person of Jesus as the Justifying Savior, filled the hearts of millions. With that release—to stand conscience-free before the Judge of the Universe, look up into His face, and live in His peace—there came a new sense of destiny. The shackles of emotional, intellectual, and spiritual slavery were cast aside and a renaissance of learning and social advancement took place.

I believe a new Reformation in worship will accomplish the same thing. This comes at a time when the relevance of the Church is being challenged anew by an intellectually astute and technologically advanced—yet relationally disintegrating and spiritually thirsty—society.

An awakening to the power of worship to reinstate God’s divine intent for man can answer contemporary questions of human purpose. A drug-drunk, suicide-prone, binge-oriented generation lives on that ragged edge because it has become dissipated by its empty a?uence of information, experience, and pleasure. In the midst of everything, so few have anything, and the questions recur repeatedly: What are we here for? Why are things as they are?

This is not an exaggeration of the problem with people today, and neither is it an exaggeration to say that worship holds the solution to their dilemma.

Sacrifice has always been involved at the heart of all worship of the Most High God. It is the “bite” in worship. By “bite,” I mean the cost—and the price is usually blood. Blood, that is, as in life—the laying down of what we scream to preserve or spare in our own interest.

With Abel, it meant an animal’s blood.

With Abraham, it meant circumcision.

With Israel, it meant the Passover.

With David, it meant exuberance.

With Ezra, it meant confrontation with opposition.

With Jerusalem’s multitudes, it meant palms and shouting.

With Pentecost’s participants, it meant supernatural praises.

With Paul, it meant singing with grace in his heart.

With Peter, it meant a completely new priestly order involving you.

In every case, there was—there is—a “bite” in worship, a price that confronts the cultural tastes of man. As much as we want beauty and as beautiful as worship may be, with God beauty is always secondary—life precedes loveliness. He resists whatever obstructs that life, no matter how “beautiful” the human option may appear.

Cain preferred the beauty of the bloodless.

Society mocked the mutilation of Abraham’s “mark.”

Egypt scorned the bloody doorposts of the Hebrews.

Michal was disgusted with her husband David’s dancing to God.

Ezra’s spiritual warfare-unto-worship crowds our religious comfort zone.

The Pharisees would rather have a more orderly Triumphal Entry—if one at all.

The analysts of Pentecost determined that the worshippers were drunk.

Paul’s song was reduced to a form rather than released in the Spirit.

Peter’s sanctuary of “living stones” has become petrified in tradition.