Should churches have a formal liturgy or be more informal?

Walk into a liturgical church and you might find responsive readings, a set order dating back centuries, and a structured calendar of seasons. Walk into an informal congregation and you might find spontaneous prayer, a loosely planned song set, and few fixed elements beyond the sermon. Both congregations often assume their approach is simply “more biblical,” but the New Testament is less prescriptive about form than either side sometimes claims.

Paul’s clearest instruction on worship gatherings is a general principle, not a script: “Let all things be done for building up… But all things should be done decently and in order” (1 Corinthians 14:26, 40). Acts 2:42 gives a snapshot of the earliest church’s regular practice — devoted “to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” — which shows recurring elements (teaching, fellowship, communion, prayer) without specifying their sequence, wording, or style. Colossians 3:16 adds singing “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs” as part of how the word of Christ dwells richly among believers.

It is worth noting that the earliest Jewish believers, at least initially, likely continued attending synagogue services that already had a fairly set liturgical shape — Scripture reading, prayers, and exposition — while also meeting separately in homes for more informal fellowship, prayer, and the Lord’s Supper (Acts 2:46). This suggests the earliest church itself moved comfortably between more structured and more informal settings without treating either as the single required form for authentic worship.

Structured liturgy has real advantages. It ensures core elements — confession, Scripture reading, gospel proclamation, communion, benediction — appear regularly rather than depending on a leader’s memory or mood. It can guard a congregation from being shaped by whatever emotional trend is popular that year, anchoring worship instead in centuries-tested, doctrinally rich language. Many liturgical prayers and creeds are themselves saturated with Scripture, functioning as a kind of built-in catechesis.

Informal worship also has genuine strengths. It can feel more accessible to newcomers unfamiliar with churchy language or responsive readings. It allows flexibility to address a congregation’s specific needs in the moment, and can foster a felt sense of spontaneity and dependence on the Spirit rather than rote repetition. Nothing in Scripture forbids simplicity; the earliest house churches likely looked far more informal than a modern liturgical cathedral service.

Wisdom in this choice also has to reckon with context and mission, not just personal preference. A congregation planting a church among people freshly out of a rigid, ritualistic religious background may find that informality communicates grace and welcome more clearly, since excessive structure could reinforce the very legalism the gospel frees people from. A congregation planting among people who associate casual, low-commitment gatherings with shallow consumerism, by contrast, may find that some liturgical weight actually communicates that this gathering is serious, sacred, and worth their full attention. Missionaries have long recognized that worship forms carry cultural freight that varies from place to place; the same order of service that feels warmly reverent in one setting can feel cold and foreign in another. This is one more reason Scripture leaves the specific form open rather than mandating one universal pattern — different contexts call for different wise applications of the same unchanging content.

The real danger on either side is not the form itself but what the form can hide. Liturgy can become rote recitation disconnected from the heart (Isaiah 29:13), and informality can become sloppy, self-focused, or shallow, mistaking spontaneity for spiritual depth. What Scripture cares about most is substance: is Christ genuinely proclaimed, is Scripture read and taught accurately, is prayer offered in faith, and is the gathering oriented toward God rather than toward entertaining the congregation (Colossians 3:16-17)? A congregation should choose its form thoughtfully, according to its context and calling, without assuming the other approach is somehow less faithful, and should regularly examine whether its chosen form is actually serving worship or merely being performed.

In practice, many healthy churches land somewhere between the two extremes, borrowing structure from liturgical tradition — a call to worship, corporate confession, regular communion, a benediction — while leaving room for flexibility in music style, prayer, and testimony. This kind of thoughtful blending can capture real strengths from both approaches: the doctrinal richness and continuity of liturgy alongside the warmth and accessibility of informality. What should never happen is treating the form itself, whichever one a congregation prefers, as a mark of superior spirituality over churches that have wisely chosen differently.

If you are evaluating a church, it may help to ask not “is this formal or informal” but “does this gathering actually accomplish what worship is for.” Is Scripture read and taught with care? Is the congregation regularly reminded of the gospel and invited to respond to it? Is there real, unhurried time for prayer and confession, however that time is structured? A congregation that can answer yes to these questions has grasped what matters most, whether its order of service was written by a committee centuries ago or planned fresh this week.