I grew up in a small town with three or four churches. I knew kids who attended each, and I definitely had an idea of the social standing one automatically gained (or lost) by being a part of one or another. Perception is a tricky thing.

Anyway, that's not exactly the point.

My family started attending the Methodist church around the time I was born, so the stand-up-sit-down-stand-up-again structure and liturgical rhythms of Sunday services were as familiar to me as the back of my dad's hand.

I'd try to memorize a little more of the liturgy every week, and when I finally could recite the Apostles' Creed or the Lord's Prayer or our Communion call-and-response without following along with the written versions in our bulletins, I held my chin (and probably my nose) a little higher.

We shifted our attendance to a different, non-Methodist church when I was in high school, and with a few exceptions, that was the end of Sunday morning liturgy for me.

The brain is a wonderous thing, though, and the words are still there, and have been running through my mind the last few days.

I'm not making an argument for or against this style of worship. What a weird thing that would be. But I will ask: what if this was my honest confession?

Merciful God,
we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart.
We have failed to be an obedient church.
We have not done your will,
we have broken your law,
we have rebelled against your love,
we have not loved our neighbors,
and we have not heard the cry of the needy.
Forgive us, we pray.
Free us for joyful obedience,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Kinda bold. Lots to unpack here. But I think my community will appreciate it if I try.