Scripture Readings

There’s a joke among people who use the Book of Common Prayer to shape their Sunday gathering. It goes like this: A prayer book Christian opens the Bible and says: “woah, look how much of the prayer book is in here!” Then, a baptist opens the Book of Common Prayer, and says “woah, look at how much of the Bible is in the Book of Common Prayer!” While this is poking fun at denominational differences, the sentiment rings true—much of the Book of Common Prayer is drawn directly from Scripture. Yet, it is important to know the source of the words, rather than absorbing the text without catechesis. 

To make sure Anglicans  absorb the entirety of Scripture, we read through much of the Bible in our scripture readings on Sundays. We commonly use what is called a lectionary, or a denomination-wide bible reading plan for Sunday mornings. Each day has four readings: a Psalm, Old Testament, New Testament, and Gospel reading. To cover most of the Bible, the lectionary is split into three years. Each year focuses on one Gospel—A, Matthew, B, Mark, C, Luke—while John is interspersed within the feasts and fasts. So, as you attend an Anglican congregation that reads through the Lectionary, you should experience much of the Bible in a three year cycle! 

At Apostles, our lectionary runs slightly differently, but we keep a similar pattern of Gospel texts. At our core, we hope that our congregation might become biblically literate. We want to know the entirety of the story of Scripture in our bones, and not just be passive hearers of the word. 

Formally, here is how each section of our Scripture readings disciples us and our experience of the word:

Typically, we read the Psalm responsively as a congregation. The Psalms are the prayer book of the Bible, and they teach us how to pray. Another way to incorporate the Psalms into our worship is with music. They were often set to different melodies, accompanied by instruments, or even dancing.

Our Old Testament and New Testament Lessons are read from a lector (lay reader) at the front of the sanctuary. Here, the congregation is at attention, listening to God’s word proclaimed as something to be received. We sit, so that we might still our hearts and minds to receive God’s words. 

The Gospel is read from the center of the sanctuary—from the heart of the people! This mirrors the incarnational reality that Jesus is God with us—God made flesh! So, as we hear the Gospel, we stand in awe, and turn towards each other knowing that God is with us.

Peace,

Nicole Kallsen, Curate

Songs and Hymns

Be Filled with the Spirit “addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” Ephesians 5:19-20

A good soundtrack changes the experience of watching a movie. Take the iconic Star Wars entrance—the bold fanfare of horns accompanied by scrolling text, setting up the viewer for the world of Jedis and the Dark Side. Or, consider the cello from Jaws—with drawn out, deep notes that build faster and faster, increasing suspense. In both cases, music shapes our affective experience. Our emotions become wrapped into the scene, immersing our whole selves into the storyteller’s narrative. 

Dr. Jeremy Begbie’s Theology, Music, and Time draws parallels between Scripture and Music. In his book, you see that Scripture functions in a similar way to classical music. There is a soundtrack with themes and variations. We read the story of creation, fall, redemption, and new creation. Each line of Scripture echoes, has dissonance, or harmonizes with this underlying theme. Reading the Old Testament, we latch onto these main ideas, yet are left unresolved, longing for a messiah. In the New Testament, we meet Christ—who resolves so much, yet the finale has yet to come. 

Music is not just a logical argument, telling the story of what happened to God’s people with the “facts” and “data points.” Rather, music appeals to the visceral reality of our longing for God. Just as we discipline ourselves to read Scripture and learn about our faith, we need to discipline our emotions to acknowledge God’s authority over all of our lives. 

This is why, in worship, we give our fullest selves to God (remember the verse in Romans 12:1 we repeat each week?). It is important to God that we do not just renew our minds, but give our very selves, soul and body back to God. Music appeals to our emotions and senses, integrating our logical ways of knowing with our embodied ways of knowing.

So, when we make music at church, it is not only a soundtrack appealing to our senses. It is not only something that we do for fun, or entertainment. Music taps into our emotions and experiences, shaping our perceptions by appealing to our senses. To sing, to make melody to God, is to submit our senses and emotions to Him just as much as our intellect. We can logically proclaim our desire to worship, and pray for a right heart to boldly approach the throne of grace. Yet, in music, we take action. We bring our fullest selves, with the hope to disciple our senses and tune to God’s soundtrack over all of creation.

Peace,

Nicole Kallsen, Curate

The Opening Acclimation and Collect for Purity

Blessed be God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

And Blessed be his kingdom, now and forever. Amen. 

The Acclimation p. 123 of the 2019 Book of Common Prayer

Sunday worship is a sacred time. It is set apart—holy—from the rest of the week. So, at Apostles, when we begin our time together, we proclaim the reason why we gather. We proclaim the coming of God’s kingdom. Our opening proclamation is a reminder that even for a brief moment, worship is our refuge from the worries and concerns of the week. We set aside the cares, burdens, and baggage, and fix our heart and mind on the work of God in the world. 

To be holy is to be set apart for God’s purposes. As God’s people gathered in worship, longing for heaven, we are set apart to do God’s work. Yet, to get close to a holy thing is precious—dangerous even. As the Epistle to the Hebrews says, “our God is a consuming fire” (12:29). So, we know to be close to God, this requires purification.

In response to drawing near to the holiness of God’s throne of grace (Heb. 4:16), we pray for purity. We pray that in the presence of God, our hearts may become more like His. We name the reality that God knows our hearts and our intentions. Yet, we still offer God the hospitality of invitation into our hearts. We ask him to, in the power of the Spirit, to make us love like Him. This also means that we ask Him to remove what hinders our hearts from getting close to Him. 

As we ask for the gift of His presence through the Spirit, we can be assured that He is a good Father. He wants his children to name their needs, their longings, their desires to Him. God wants us to ask for help in worship, and he delights to give us help. So in worship, as we approach the holiness of God’s Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven, we can be assured that God wants us to be made holy. He has set us apart as a royal priesthood, and delights to make Himself known to us through his son, Jesus.

Peace,

Nicole Kallsen, Curate

Hospitality of Silence

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.

He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.

Psalm 62: 1-2

"Distracted from distraction by distraction" wisely sums up the human desire to flee from the pain of daily life. This comes from “Burnt Norton,” a poem in T.S. Eliot's masterwork, Four Quartets. While written in 1936, his words still capture the escapism we feel as a result of mundanity. 

Today, we reach for our phones to numb from the bottomless pit called email. We think about the unfinished tasks left at work while speaking with our loved ones around the dinner table. We continue to set goals—a new house, losing five pounds, or a dream vacation—only to be left wanting more.

Eliot’s poetry accents modernity’s drum beat of production and progress. Our endless craving for dopamine hits. Yet our striving is just a hamster wheel. Moving forward, we only find ourselves falling behind.

We’ve tried to fix our attention span. From Ted Talks to New York Times articles, to books, we’re proactive, seeking guidance on how to be focused, present and fully alive in our life and work. But removing distraction and replacing it with another distraction, we have not solved the root of our problem. We long for a sense of real life, where we are fully alive and human, not just optimized for peak performance. 

As Christians, on Sundays, we break this rhythm with worship. We pause our progress, turning our attention to God. We look to Jesus, who teaches us what it means to be a real, fully alive human, with right relationships with God, neighbors, and ourselves. 

So, before we begin our Sunday gathering, Apostles takes a moment to offer the Hospitality of Silence. This is a moment of transition from the chaos of the week or morning. Also, it is also a kindness to God, acknowledging His steadfast presence in our lives. Silence is a deeply Christian way of combatting the human instinct to numb and escape the mundanity of daily life through distraction.

Becoming comfortable with silence, we can become more like the Psalmist—who knows when all else ceases, and the world goes quiet, God is present. In the silence, we find ourselves before God, present to the reality of our lives. Amidst the noise and chaos of modern distractions, silence is a tool that allows us to become rooted, anchored, and grounded in His steadfast love, care, and presence. 

So when we turn back to our daily work, we are more aware of God, who is the heartbeat of creation. We do not need to be, in Eliot’s words,  “distracted from distraction by distraction.” Rather, silence allows us to be present to the life God has gifted us to live.

Nicole Kallsen, Curate

Introduction to the Eucharist

But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you. 

Romans 8:10-12 ESV

Over the past five weeks, I explored the importance of prayer in the Anglican tradition. Particularly, I looked at the Daily Office (set hour prayer) and how each hour of prayer reveals something about our life with God and neighbor. Today, the Daily Office is generally used as a personal devotional to help individuals learn to pray without ceasing (1 Thess. 5:17). While praying the Offices can be used by individuals, in the history of the Church, prayer has been a corporate practice. 

Corporate comes from the Latin word corpus—meaning body. Joining together in prayer and worship, individual Christians are united into Christ’s body—the Church. Today, we are reminded of our corporate existence through Sunday worship. During this weekly gathering as a church body, Apostles celebrates the Eucharist. We are not only knit back into the body of Christ through our fellowship, but we receive the real presence of Christ through the Lord’s Supper. 

Christ is alive in us—both in fellowship and in Sacrament—so we might live with hope. We celebrate the Lord’s Day with the sure hope of the Resurrection. We gather around the Lord’s Table to feast, knowing that we look forward to the hope that God’s Kingdom might reign, on earth as it is in heaven. We leave, knowing that the burdens we brought before the Lord throughout the week in prayer are met with the assurance of life. 

So, to explore the riches of Sunday worship, from now until Easter 2027, I will break down the different parts of corporate worship at Apostles. Each aspect is steeped in meaning, found in Scripture and tradition. Also, I will note the particularities that are unique to Apostles. We are both part of the Church outside of time, but also rooted in our modern culture and context. 

I pray that you can find solace that on Sundays, your prayers are gathered in Christ’s body, the communion of saints. And gathering together, we’re all brought back to the table. Centered around the table, we are brought back to the Last Supper, where Christ gave Himself for us. Receiving Christ as your life, you may go back into your vocation in the world, assured of the promise of heaven.

Nicole Kallsen, Curate