The term "liturgy" literally means "service" or "work," referring to the work of the church: worship.

In common use, it refers services that follow a relatively rigid and standardized order of events. Worshiping within a liturgical framework, although a foreign concept to me until very recently, is the predominant form of Christian worship throughout the world. It is practiced exclusively by the oldest traditions, Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, and more recently by several protestant varieties including Anglicans, Episcopalians and Lutherans.

The diversity of adherents makes it obvious that liturgy adapts to differing theologies. Among Anglicans, for example, even though our Roman Catholic roots are reflected in the liturgical order of events, the theology is distinctly Protestant.

Previous churches trained me to focus on a "relationship" with God. Anything routine was probably "religion" or "ritual" and should be viewed with suspicion.

Despite my training, Frederica Mathews- Green, a short, unimposing Eastern Orthodox Christian, smuggled liturgy into my thoughts via her book "Facing East." This book describes the founding of an Eastern Orthodox church, and my defenses were distracted by the amusing anecdotes and disarmed by the reverence of the Orthodox believers.

I thought I was reading a book about a church founding by another variety of Christian, but for the first time, I found myself vulnerable to understanding liturgical worship and realizing that many problems that continually plague contemporary approaches were actually solved hundreds of years ago.

The struggle to keep an upward focus in worship services is the first problem resolved by liturgy.

Many contemporary services focus on the teaching and the worship. Because these depend on the performance the pastor and band members, they tend to become de facto celebrities, inadvertently stealing attention.

Liturgical services overcome this challenge by being communion-centered. Communion is the inescapable climax of every service. Everything else is secondary and exists to prepare the congregation for participation. When communion is the main event, the service is unavoidably Christ- centered because it focuses on his accomplishments.

With the main focus in place, the role of the leaders is appropriately reduced to ushering rather than performing, and they are relieved from undue pressures on themselves.

Liturgical sanctuaries often affirm this upward focus. The altar is elevated, while the worship leaders and priest occupy the same elevation as the congregation, well in front of and below the altar.

Communion is an example of a sacrament, the presence of which is another defining characteristic of liturgical worship. Sacraments are visible, external representations of invisible, internal works of God and the primary ones are communion, marriage, and baptism.

The expectation of unseen and undefined transforming works of God cultivates a sense of mystery that is often lost in contemporary services. So, as Anglicans, when we eat the bread and drink from the cup, we anticipate something both real and spiritual occurs, and bask in this mystery beyond human comprehension.

In contrast, many non-liturgical churches recognize the need for mystery, but struggle to reclaim it. Unfortunately, because they view communion solely as a symbolic and physical act of remembrance, it is often treated flippantly and celebrated

rarely. Because all its meaning is understood, the mystery vanishes.

Rich Mullins pointed out another mystery inherent in liturgical communion when he said, "This is what liturgy offers that all the razzmatazz of our modern worship can't touch. You don't go home from church going, 'Oh, I am just moved to tears.' You go home from church going, 'Wow, I just took communion and ... if Augustine were alive today, he would have had it with me, and maybe he is, and maybe he did.'"

Mysteriously, this sacrament connects individual believers to both the church present and the church past. This re- enforces that we are not alone in our journey and our spiritual family extends beyond those who, as Chesterton said, "just happen to be alive" to what scripture calls "great cloud of witnesses" of our spiritual ancestors.

As an Anglican, I also connect doctrinally to church history by affirming the Nicene Creed during every service. By participating, we identify with an ancient (circa 325 A.D.) set of beliefs that has defined and united Christians and reproved heretics for the long history of the Christian Church.

This constant exposure to right doctrine adds a measure of protection against many unorthodox and heretical ideas that have sought to infiltrate the church for millennia. Heresies such as denying the virgin birth, the resurrection and Godship of Christ are sternly reproved and joyfully condemned weekly by this element of the liturgy.

In contrast, many non-liturgical churches do not routinely affirm these truths and struggle to maintain doctrinal integrity as the congregation is continually exposed to alternative ideas.

Affirming creeds is an act of yielding our minds to truth. This attitude of submission is the core act of worship in liturgy. Once service begins, I lay aside my desires and opinions about what the service could be and chose to submit to the structure and contents over which I have no possibility of creative influence.

This is in stark contrast to contemporary services where the rule is: "if you don't like something, get involved and change it." Thus contemporary worship services are often created in competitive environments, where differing ideas are championed by individual members.

In this Darwinistic scenario the service tends to become the pet project of the most dominant members and the internal competition dis-unifies the community.

In contrast, liturgical worship provides a shared, intimate experience that reduces internal competition. People form deep bonds from sharing common experiences and a group of people willingly submitting to a liturgical service is no different.

It may seem that the inflexibility of liturgy represses creativity, but a close observation reveals the opposite. The members' creativity is fully intact, but focused into their personal lives. Productive artists are not uncommon in these communities.

My discovery of the hidden genius of liturgy drew me to this worship style. Others come for other reasons. For example, my wife was drawn to the comfort of walking the well-worn path that is the liturgy, the emotional health of observing church cycles and rhythms, and the acts of physical participation in worship.

My initial openness to liturgy began a long search, which ultimately landed me in a relatively recent movement of churches called the Anglican Mission in the Americas. Here my new worship preference and my unchanged evangelical theology peacefully converge.

At Saint Paul's Church in Asheville, I am blessed to share the liturgy weekly with an enthusiastic body of believers.

---Powell and his wife, Erin Marie, live in Clyde and recently joined Saint Paul's Church, an Anglican congregation in Asheville, SC.