Worship in Washington: When Praise Interrupted Politics

The marble floors of the Capitol Rotunda had witnessed countless moments of American history, speeches that shaped the nation, ceremonies that marked transitions of power, and gatherings that celebrated our democratic ideals. But last night, as more than a hundred choir members from across the country gathered in that space, something different was about to unfold.

It was supposed to be a simple worship service, planned months in advance. What we couldn’t have anticipated was that our gathering would coincide with one of the most contentious legislative battles in recent memory. The Capitol, typically quiet at this late hour, buzzed with activity. Aides hurried through hallways, reporters clustered in corners, and a few representatives lingered, too invested in the proceedings to head home for the evening.

As we began to sing, something remarkable happened. One by one, congressional aides began to appear at the edges of our gathering. They came quietly, almost tentatively, drawn by the sound of voices lifted in worship. More gathered as we read Scripture. Still more as we prayed. What had begun as a planned service for believers became an unexpected witness to a weary Capitol.

When we concluded with our closing prayer and began to disperse, something even more extraordinary occurred. Aides from offices across the political spectrum, Democrats and Republicans, progressives and conservatives, approached us with genuine gratitude. They thanked us not for any political statement or partisan position, but simply for bringing encouragement through song during what had been, as they described it, “very difficult days for all sides.”

In that moment, standing in the heart of American democracy, I found myself confronting a striking question: What is the most dynamic thing our divided world needs to see from Christians?

My first instinct might have been to say “better arguments,” sharper apologetics, more compelling debates, stronger defenses of our positions. These have their place, certainly. The apostle Peter calls us to “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have” (1 Peter 3:15). Reasoned discourse and thoughtful engagement with ideas matter deeply in our public square. But what if the answer is simpler and more transformative than we’ve imagined? What if what our fractured nation most desperately needs to witness is our worship?

Consider the scene that unfolded in the Rotunda. Here were believers from across the country, representing different denominations, different backgrounds, different political perspectives, yet united in one purpose: to worship the Savior with abandon. No political platform was presented. No policy position was advocated. No partisan lines were drawn. Instead, there was simply the raw, unashamed adoration of Christ in confession, meditation, and praise.

And it was precisely this, worship offered without agenda, praise given without condition, that drew weary souls like a magnet. In a building where every conversation carries political calculation, where every statement is parsed for partisan advantage, the simple act of worship became radical in its authenticity.

Perhaps we’ve forgotten that worship itself is witness. When believers gather to exalt Christ above all earthly concerns, when we confess our dependence on Him rather than our confidence in ourselves, when we sing of His love that transcends human division, we bear testimony to realities that transcend our political moment.

Scripture offers us a powerful example of worship’s reconciling power in the story of Jehoshaphat facing the armies of Moab, Ammon, and Mount Seir (2 Chronicles 20). Confronted with impossible odds and certain destruction, the king of Judah didn’t rely on military strategy or political alliances. Instead, he placed worshipers at the front of his army. “Give thanks to the Lord,” they sang, “for his love endures forever” (2 Chronicles 20:21).

The result was extraordinary. The Lord set ambushes against the enemies of Judah, and they turned on each other. What human diplomacy could not achieve, what military might could not accomplish, God brought about through worship. The very act of acknowledging God’s sovereignty and celebrating His faithfulness created space for His power to work in ways that confounded human wisdom.

This brings us to reconsider what we’ve done to worship itself. We’ve domesticated it, sanitized it, contained it within the four walls of our sanctuaries where it’s safe from scrutiny and stripped of its power to confront. We offer half-hearted praise in the safety of our church buildings, surrounded by people who think like us, vote like us, and rarely challenge us to love beyond our comfort. We’ve turned sanctuaries into spiritual bunkers where we retreat from the world rather than training grounds where we prepare to serve it.

But consider what “sanctuary” actually means. It’s not a place to hide from the world; it’s a place to offer refuge to the world. The very word suggests safety for the vulnerable, protection for the persecuted, and healing for the hurting. When we gather in our sanctuaries to worship with abandon, we should be rehearsing for the main event: taking that same unashamed devotion into every corner of a broken world that desperately needs to witness the transforming power of the gospel.

The Great Commission calls us to “go and make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). But perhaps we’ve forgotten part of the “going.” Perhaps it begins simply with the vehicle of worshiping, worshiping with such authenticity and abandon that it becomes impossible to ignore, impossible to dismiss, impossible to resist.

In our current moment, social media algorithms and partisan news outlets profit from our division. They thrive on outrage, feed on conflict, and grow stronger with every angry comment and heated exchange. Christians, tragically, have often been eager participants in this machinery of division, wielding Scripture as a sword for political battle rather than as gospel healing for sin-sick souls. But what if we chose a different path? What if, instead of adding to the cacophony of competing voices, we offered something entirely different: the sound of unified worship?

When we worship together, we bear witness to a unity that transcends human categories. We declare that our identity in Christ is more fundamental than our earthly affiliations. We proclaim that the cross has indeed reconciled us not only to God but to one another.

This is not naivety about the reality of disagreement or the necessity of engaging important issues. Rather, it’s the recognition that our disagreements need not become divisions, that our different perspectives need not become sources of hatred. When worship forms the foundation of our public witness, it changes the tenor of every other conversation we have.

At the heart of Christian worship lies a central truth: God looked upon all our wickedness, our pride, our prejudice, our propensity toward division, and chose to see the cross instead. The same blood that reconciled us to Himself has reconciled us to one another. This is not mere sentiment; it is sacrifice that stands at the center of our faith.

When we worship, we declare this truth not just with our words but with our very presence together. We embody the reconciliation that Christ has accomplished. We model the unity that His Spirit creates. We demonstrate that what seems impossible in human terms, genuine love across lines of difference, becomes not only possible but inevitable when we’re all looking in the same direction: toward the cross.

As we approach this July 4th, our nation stands at a crossroads. We can continue down the path of increasing polarization, where every issue becomes a battle line and every neighbor becomes a potential enemy. Or we can choose the path of worship-shaped witness, where our first identity is not Republican or Democrat, conservative or progressive, but children of the King who calls us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

Tonight, I stood in the Kennedy Center and watched thousands of men and women, including veterans and service members, weep as believers from around the country gathered to worship Jesus. Not only because of patriotic sentiment, though that may play a role, but because they witnessed something all of our hearts deeply crave: the unity that comes when God’s people exalt the Savior together.

Perhaps they weep because they recognize, even if they cannot yet articulate it, that this is what they’ve been longing for. Not another political victory or policy triumph, but the healing that comes when God’s people worship Him with abandon and extend that same spirit of surrender to their relationships with one another.

Where will the healing of our nation begin? Perhaps it begins exactly where it did in the Capitol Rotunda last night, with worship. Not worship as a political strategy or a cultural statement, but worship as the authentic response of hearts that have been captured by the love of Christ.

Maybe it begins when we stop trying to win arguments and start trying to win hearts through the irresistible attraction of genuine devotion. Maybe it begins when we realize that our most powerful apologetic is our capacity to worship with such joy and freedom that others want to join us.

Maybe it begins when we take seriously the words of Jesus: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). And maybe, just maybe, the world is waiting to see what it really looks like when Christians worship together, not despite our differences, but through them, finding in Christ the unity that no earthly division can destroy.

The marble floors of the Capitol Rotunda have witnessed much history. But perhaps they witnessed something new last night: a glimpse of what our nation could become when God’s people remember that our highest calling is to worship the King who has already won the ultimate victory over sin, death, and division.

In a world hungry and in need of healing, maybe worship is both the medicine and the food. Perhaps it’s time to find out.