During the holidays my movie watching skyrockets. I enjoy quality cinema, the kind with rich storytelling and thoughtful technique; think Jurassic Park, not Jurassic World Rebirth. And yes, the theater experience far exceeds the at-home one. My partiality for quality-only films and the theater experience prompts me to reflect on our worship as believers. Christian worship is not meant to be watched from a distance. It is an encounter, an embodied moment that draws us beyond observation into something richer and more transformative. True, genuine-quality worship is rooted in the incarnate Christ who entered our world in flesh and blood so that our whole selves could encounter him in meaningful ways.
Cinematic theory offers surprising parallels. Directors speak of qualia, the felt qualities of an experience that cannot be reduced to simple description. A sunset on screen is more than its colors, and a close-up of a trembling hand is more than pixels. Similarly, worship invites us to experience Christ’s presence. Singing, prayer, communion, and Scripture reading each carry their own spiritual qualia; stirring awe, conviction, gratitude, and hope in ways that surpass explanation. This echoes the psalmist’s invitation: “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8), a reminder that our faith engages the whole person.
Filmmakers also note how the eyes can become “an organ of touch,” especially in scenes marked by haptic perceptuality: moments when you don’t simply watch the story but feel it. The textures, nearness, and details create a sense of contact. Worship can work the same way. When we gather in Jesus’ name, we do not only look toward him as spectators. His presence touches us. Lifting our voices or receiving communion becomes a kind of spiritual tactile moment, a place where Christ meets us in real and embodied ways.
Another cinematic idea concerns the use of indexed and non-indexed camera angles. Sometimes the lens points directly at what the viewer must see. Other times it invites discovery through subtle or indirect cues. God uses both approaches. At times, the gospel feels unmistakably indexed: Jesus speaks clearly, Scripture convicts plainly, and we know exactly what he is asking of us. Other moments are quieter and non-indexed: gentle conviction, providential encounters, or unity with the Spirit. These understated moments reveal that Christ continues to guide those who recognize his voice. As Jesus profoundly says, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).
Taken together, these images remind us that worship is an experience rather than a passive event. We think, feel, respond, and participate. We encounter Jesus not as viewers in the seats but as disciples fully engaged in the presence of the living Lord.
Paul N. Merideth










