In the Company of Angels

I was reading Bullinger the other day, the little-known Swiss reformer who took over the Reformation in Geneva. (He was the successor of Uldrich Zwingli and the precursor of John Calvin.) I've read a decent amount on the Church, but Bullinger was the first to really introduce me to an idea that I think is critical for a solid understanding of worship.

According to Bullinger, there are two churches: the church militant, and the church triumphant. The church millitant is that part of the church which remains here on earth, combating sin, mortality, and the devil. The church triumphant is that part of the church which, through Christ, has attained victory over sin, death and the devil. The church triumphant is that group of believers which consists of the angels and the deceased saints, the "great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people, and language, standing before the throne of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried in a loud voice, 'Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.' All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshipped God, saying: 'Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!.'" (Revelation 7:9-11)

This is the entire church, and when we gather to worship, we gather as one. That's what is so revolutionary. A sermon, the proclamation of the gospel, is a participation in the declarations of the saints and martyrs in heaven, those who have conquered death by sharing in Christ's death. When we preach the gospel, we echo their cry of the gospel: 'Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the lamb.' When we sing hymns and songs of worship, we join in the company of angels who proclaims, 'Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever.'

When my wife and I go to our church on Sunday, I am not conscious of this fact. Half the congregation arrives late. We sing songs, but often my heart is not in it, and I am almost never aware of the sacred nature of the song I sing. This is true for my present church and for all I have attended. A sermon is a time to take notes and to learn, but it is never viewed as a participation in the gospel sung by the martyrs. I need to try to enter worship with a sense of the holiness and sacredness of it all.

That is why Bullinger's distinction between the church triumphant and militant is so important. We proceed as a church militant as if alone, as if we the entirety of the church. And a church militant which is stripped of the church triumphant has little to triumph in, and often resorts to militancy. We strive in worship to learn, to feel something poignant, to defeat sin, and to worship. We strive when we could rest in the company of angels, joining in the heavenly song and resting in the promised triumph which those who have gone before us experience through Christ, and which we will know on the other side of the grave.

I think our worship loses something when we believe we worship God alone in a building. Better to see our building as the foyer for the throne room in which the heavenly host crowds.