Returning to Reverence

The Only Path Forward in a Culture Craving What It Has Lost

In our restless, noisy age, a quiet but unmistakable hunger is stirring across our land. Many sense that something vital has been lost—something weighty, beautiful, and sacred. People are talking about a return to reverence: a deeper respect for life in all its stages, for time-honored traditions that anchor us, for the transcendent realities that lift our eyes beyond the immediate and the material. You see it in the resurgence of interest in ancient liturgies, in the popularity of books on spiritual disciplines, in young people (especially Gen Z) filling conferences like Passion and quietly returning to churches after years of disengagement. Even in secular spaces, there’s a turn toward mindfulness, ritual, and “slow living” as antidotes to the frantic superficiality of social media and consumer culture.

This most hit me personally when working on the website and social media stuff and I came across a video about intentionally being bored for an hour. We’ve reached a point, especially with the next generation, where we’ve grown so exhausted by constant stimulation, endless scrolling, and manufactured excitement that we’re now deliberately trying to relearn how to be bored. Why? Because we’re tired of being so unhappy. We want to enjoy things again. And this desire, I believe, is intimately tied to reverence. When life is reduced to dopamine hits and self-curated feeds, we lose the capacity for wonder, for depth, and for the kind of quiet awe that makes true enjoyment possible.

This longing is good. It is, I believe, a work of the Holy Spirit stirring hearts that were made for more. Yet this hunger cannot be satisfied by vague spirituality, by cherry-picked rituals stripped of doctrine, or by moralism detached from the living God. This young woman doing the boredom challenge is not filling herself with the glory of God, but simply making herself more available for other spiritual ailments. Without the triune God at the center, even well-intentioned practices of detachment can become doorways to emptiness or worse.

The Heart of It All: Westminster Shorter Catechism Question 1

True reverence flows from knowing who God is in His majestic holiness, who we are as His image-bearers, and why we exist. Among the branches of Christ’s church, the Reformed Presbyterian tradition stands apart in preserving this biblical reverence with joyful fidelity and theological depth.

At the center of this tradition beats a simple yet profound statement that has shaped generations of believers:

Q. What is the chief end of man?
A. Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.

This is no dry doctrinal footnote. It is a blazing summary of the entire Christian life, drawn straight from Scripture. “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you… But for me it is good to be near God” (Psalm 73:25, 28). Jesus prayed, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you” (John 17:1).

Our purpose is not self-actualization or therapeutic happiness. It is to reflect the glory of the triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—in every sphere of life. And the astonishing wonder is this: in glorifying Him, we enjoy Him forever. Not as a stern taskmaster, but as our loving heavenly Father whose presence is our highest delight. This truth reframes everything. Work becomes an opportunity to display God’s creativity and faithfulness rather than mere drudgery or self-advancement. Family life pictures covenant love. Suffering gains meaning as a place where God’s sustaining grace shines brightly. The catechism does not pit duty against delight; it unites them. Glorify first, and joy follows. Seek enjoyment apart from God’s glory, and you chase shadows.

This God-centered orientation produces genuine reverence. Worship is not primarily about being entertained or emotionally lifted, but about ascribing worth to the One who is worthy. That is why Reformed Presbyterian worship follows the regulative principle: we include only what Scripture commands—reading and preaching the Word, singing Psalms and biblically faithful hymns, prayer, and the sacraments. No theatrical productions, no personality-driven performances. Just the simple, majestic elements God has appointed. The result is worship that feels holy—reverent, transcendent, and deeply satisfying to souls starved for more than noise.

Why Other Paths Fall Short

Many today experiment with blended spiritualities: Christian language mixed with New Age practices, ancient rituals without creedal anchors, or casual “Jesus is my buddy” Christianity. These may offer temporary comfort or aesthetic appeal, but they lack the theological backbone to sustain reverence when culture presses hard. Without robust doctrine, reverence collapses into sentimentalism. Without scriptural regulation, worship drifts into self-idolatry. The Reformed Presbyterian way guards against both by holding fast to the confessions, catechisms, and psalmody that have nourished the church through centuries of trial.

Consider the alternatives more closely. Roman Catholicism offers beautiful cathedrals, rich liturgical heritage, and a deep sense of historical continuity—elements that can initially satisfy the longing for reverence. Yet at its core, it often placates the soul rather than truly transforming it. The system of merit, ongoing sacrifices in the Mass, and reliance on human mediators (saints, priests, and penance) keep the conscience in a cycle of guilt and partial relief instead of leading it to full assurance in Christ alone. The soul is soothed with rituals and sacraments administered ex opere operato, but it is rarely brought into the joyful freedom of a sinner justified by faith alone, resting in the finished work of Christ. Reverence becomes external and hierarchical rather than a heart gripped by the glory of a sovereign, gracious God.

Many evangelical traditions, particularly the typical Baptist or non-denominational experience, swing to the opposite extreme. Worship is energetic and sincere, often marked by powerful preaching and heartfelt music. Yet it frequently leaves the soul hungry because it is so heavily oriented toward the individual’s felt needs and emotional response. The service becomes a concert followed by a motivational talk. There is little awe, little transcendence, and almost no regulative guardrails. After the adrenaline fades, many walk away moved but unchanged—reverence replaced by relevance, and the glory of God traded for a Jesus who feels like a close friend but rarely confronts us as King of kings. The hunger for something weightier remains.

Even where sacraments are practiced, the absence of a robust, biblical understanding of their life-giving power can slowly kill the soul. When baptism and the Lord’s Supper are treated as mere symbols or optional ordinances with no real spiritual nourishment, believers miss the tangible means of grace Christ has appointed. We starve for the visible Word— the washing of regeneration in baptism and the communion of Christ’s body and blood in the Supper—yet receive only tokens. Over time this thin view of the sacraments produces Christians who know the doctrines but lack vital union with Christ, leading to spiritual anemia in the very places God intended to feed us.

This is not stuffy traditionalism on our part. It is joyful fidelity. Singing the Psalms shapes our praises with the very words of Scripture. The Lord’s Day becomes a delight, a foretaste of the eternal Sabbath. Families are equipped through catechesis to pass the faith to the next generation. The church stands as a counter-cultural witness, not by chasing relevance, but by embodying the beauty of holiness.

Reverence and the Sanctity of Life in Michigan

This recovery of reverence is not abstract or private. It has urgent public implications—especially right here in Michigan. As I write, our state lawmakers are considering legislation that would legalize physician-assisted suicide. House Bills 5825–5828, introduced in April 2026 and known as the “Death with Dignity Act,” would allow mentally competent adults with a terminal diagnosis (six months or less to live) to request life-ending medication. Proponents call it compassion and autonomy. In reality, it represents a profound loss of reverence for life as God’s sacred gift.

Scripture declares we are fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image (Psalm 139:14; Genesis 1:27). Our days are numbered by the sovereign Lord who determined our times and boundaries (Acts 17:26). Suffering, though grievous, is not meaningless. It can refine faith, display God’s power, and draw us nearer to Christ, who suffered for us. The chief end of man—even the suffering man—remains to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. Assisted suicide short-circuits this by declaring some lives no longer worth living. It devalues the elderly, the disabled, and the vulnerable, pressuring them toward death as a “solution.” It turns medicine from healing to killing. And it flows directly from a culture that has forgotten its chief end. If we exist only for ourselves, ending life on our terms seems merciful. If we exist for God’s glory, every life—weak or strong—declares His worth.

A superficial return to “reverence” through generic spirituality will not stop this cultural slide. Only a people captured by the glory of God, grounded in His Word, and worshiping Him according to Scripture will have the clarity, joy, and courage to stand firm. Reformed Presbyterian theology equips us for precisely this moment. It teaches us to defend the weak, care for the dying with excellent palliative care and gospel hope, and trust God’s providence even through pain.

Live Like it

Picture a community shaped by this vision: husbands and wives loving reverently as Christ loves the church; parents training children in the fear of the Lord with the catechism at the dinner table; workers laboring honestly as unto the Lord; citizens engaging public life with principled reverence for God’s moral law. In such a community, the joys of Westminster Shorter Catechism Question 1 become tangible—deep satisfaction in God that liberates us from self-tyranny, and bold witness in a dying culture.

As a Church, we must strive to embody this. Our worship must be simple, scriptural, and God-exalting. Preaching that moves systematically through the Bible and the riches of Reformed theology. We ought to sing the Psalms because they give us Spirit-inspired words. We catechize because doctrine fuels devotion. And we apply Christ’s lordship to every area—including how we speak and act on the sanctity of life here in Michigan.

If the casual, man-centered Christianity around you feels empty, or if secular alternatives leave you hollow, consider what the Lord may be doing in your heart. The boredom challenge, the turn toward ancient practices, the quiet longing for more—these may be His gentle call.

Come and see worship that exalts God above all. Come and learn Reformed theology that feeds the soul through trials and joys. Come and join a people whose chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever, even as the culture drifts.

In a world chasing fleeting experiences and self-defined dignities, may we recover the ancient joy of our true chief end. The God who made us is worthy. In Him alone is life that truly satisfies.

Soli Deo Gloria.