A Personal Reflection on Church Rituals and the Quiet Path to Salvation

 A Personal Reflection on Church Rituals and the Quiet Path to Salvation

During a recent sleepless night, I found myself reflecting deeply on the many churches I have visited throughout my life. I feel it is time I share these thoughts, not out of judgment, but in the hope of understanding and perhaps shedding light on what salvation truly means in the eyes of God.

Over the years, I have entered many places of worship - not to affiliate myself with any particular denomination, but to sit quietly, listen, and seek spiritual understanding. Yet time and again, I found myself confused, even troubled, by the rituals I witnessed.

In many churches, I saw entire congregations standing for prolonged periods with raised hands, eyes closed, swaying left and right, repeating phrases like “Praise the Lord” and “Hallelujah” in loud, rhythmic unison. These scenes, often accompanied by modern music, guitars, drums, and foot-stomping reminiscent of nightclubs, left me spiritually unsettled. It was not the enthusiasm or sincerity I questioned, but the absence of scriptural grounding and reflection.

Hardly any preaching occurred in these sessions. There was little focus on the actual teachings of Christ, on compassion, forgiveness, humility, love, and daily righteous living. Instead, the rituals seemed to center more on emotional expression than spiritual edification. I searched the Scriptures for instruction on such practices but found none that reflected what I had witnessed. Jesus, to my understanding, taught in synagogues, on hillsides, in homes, by the Sea of Galilee, often in quiet places. He did not teach worship through frenzied singing or theatrical rituals, but through His words, His actions, and His sacrifice.

I often sat quietly, unable to participate, not out of arrogance, but because I could not comprehend the purpose behind such displays. Most troubling of all was the unanswered question: How do these rituals bring about salvation? Is this truly what the Bible teaches as the path to eternal life? I could not find a clear answer.

In contrast, I remember a very different kind of fellowship that touched me deeply in my younger years, from school through university. It was not a church in the traditional sense, but a simple, nameless gathering of believers who called themselves only workers, a humble reference to those sent out two-by-two, as Jesus instructed His disciples.

They had no formal buildings, no titles like pastors or elders, no collections, and no salaries. They gathered in private homes, rented rooms, or school classrooms—anywhere quiet and suitable. These workers would gently approach strangers, inviting them to gospel meetings with kindness and a warm handshake. Their voices were soft, their presence peaceful. And if ever they happened to misspeak or unintentionally cause offence, they would immediately and sincerely seek forgiveness with humility—never offering vague or evasive responses such as, “I will pray for you.” For to say that implies they had not done any wrong, placing the burden on the other person, as though it is we who need divine forgiveness, not them. This subtle response often cloaks an attitude of pride, suggesting moral superiority and a refusal to acknowledge fault. True humility does not deflect accountability; it bows down and asks, “Will you forgive me?”—not “I will pray for you.”

These workers lived out the gospel rather than just preaching it. Their simplicity, their self-sacrifice, and their gentle love for others reflected the spirit of the early church. They were poor in worldly terms but rich in spiritual grace. I eventually lost touch with them around the mid-1980s, but their example has never left me. They reminded me that the true Church is not a building, nor a name, nor a ritual—it is a way of life shaped by humility, service, and truth.

Even today, I still enter places of worship, just as Jesus did—not to judge, but to seek. Yet in my heart, I long for that quiet, humble fellowship that taught not with guitars and bright lights, but with the soft power of Christlike living. It is in that spirit that I hope to remain—not on the broad, popular road, but on the narrow, quieter path that leads to life.

With brotherly love in Christ,

Lim Ju Boo