Worship isn’t about if—it’s about what
Whether it’s God or the gym, we all worship something.
By Sarah PollokBright lights illuminate the large, dark room, flashing time to a song as it steadily builds to a heavy crescendo while a man on stage shouts into a microphone. “Forget everything else aside from this moment,” he calls to the crowd, which moves in unison, raising hands and swaying side to side. “You were meant to be right here, right now”. His words are steady and sure yet drip with a zeal that stirs up the excited crowd. Some people are giddy with laughter, others brush away tears, but all have their gaze fixed on this god-like figure striding across the stage.
It’s the most moving group fitness class I’ve ever been to. Wait, no, it was a mega-church service. Or... hang on, I think it was that big Spark Arena concert.
That one can easily mistake any three of these experiences speaks to a truth we rarely acknowledge; humans were made to worship. And if we don’t worship God, the world is full of other idols we can devote our time, money and lives to.
American author David Foster Wallace touched on this idea during an unlikely occasion; a 2005 college commencement speech, which later became the novel “This is Water”. In the speech, Foster said:
“There is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.”
As someone raised with a religious faith, Wallace’s words were deeply comforting. Growing up, my devotion (to Sunday church or bible reading) was often considered unusual, a departure from the norm compared to peers or popular media. Yet, as Foster explains; worship is less a religious choice and more a human instinct.
The freedom to choose what—or whom—we worship is a relatively recent development, argues journalist Tara Isabella Burton in Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World (2020). Until the mid-20th century, faith was largely inherited, and shaped by family, culture, and geography. However, as consumer capitalism surged and Westerners moved en masse to urban centres, the social and structural forces that once bound people to institutional religions faded. For the first time, individuals could actively choose their careers, communities, and belief systems rather than simply inheriting them. However, people did still “hunger for the same things human beings have always longed for: a sense of meaning in the world and personal purpose within that meaning, a community to share that experience with”, Burton writes.
So, corporations offered (and more importantly, monetized) “institutions, activities, philosophies, and rituals that manage to be challenging and totalizing while also preserving millennials' need for individualization and personal, intuitional freedom”.
This was the new promise; by cherry-picking elements from various religions, communities, ideologies or aesthetics, you can create a bespoke belief system that offers the same benefits of traditional religion but reflects your individuality.
The result today is a society that may lack obvious capital G Gods but is full of needy idols demanding you devote your time, money and energy in return for the ever-elusive good life.
What do we worship?
If you tune out at talk of “worshipping idols”, I understand. Exaggerated depictions of idol worship meant I never considered myself “one of those people”. I didn’t own a golden calf or a shrine in my home. I didn’t bargain with other spirits or read alternative religious texts. Heck, I even felt guilty when I read newspaper horoscopes.
Yet the examples of idols linguist Amanda Montell critiques in her book “Cultish” (which explores ideologies and communities with cult-like tendencies) are ones we’ll all find in our calendar or closet.
They’re cult fitness classes (Peleton, F45 and CrossFit to name a few) and adoring music communities (a la Taylor’s ‘Swifties’ or the Beatles’ Beatlemaniacs‘), demanding high-status companies (pick almost any law firm or tech company) or exclusive beauty brands with devout fan bases.
All of these appear secular or unspiritual (it’s just a workout class! Makeup brand! Job!) but undeniably involve enchanting narratives about life’s meaning, subtle stories of good and evil, unifying physical rituals and authority figures who lead the way.
It’s now I should clarify that these pastimes or products I’ve called out are not inherently bad. I can love Jesus and deeply enjoy vinyasa yoga, oat milk matcha and euphoric dance classes. Satan isn’t running your favourite sports team or cycle studio and it’s perfectly good to enjoy these things.
Simultaneously, it’s naive to assume these industries, products or spaces don’t tangle tempting narratives about how to attain the good life in return for just a little more of your time, money or attention.
What we spend those finite resources on, what we often think about or discuss with friends, and what we spend our time doing and money pursuing, forms our lives.
As Ralph Emerson once wrote:
"The Gods we worship write their names on our faces; be sure of that. And a man will worship something... That which dominates will determine his life and character. Therefore it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshipping we are becoming!”
Jesus, in Scripture puts it more explicitly, in Matthew 6:21: Where your treasure is your heart will be also.
More disappointing is the reality that these idols dangle cheques only Christ can cash; a truth even David Foster Wallace (a staunch atheist) agreed with.
“The compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.”
If you spend your life chasing money and things, he explains, you will never have enough. Make your body and beauty your god, Wallace continues, you’ll always feel ugly and “die a million deaths” as you age. His point being; pursuing little gods involves a hedonistic treadmill that will never *quite* satisfy.
It can be wonderful to enjoy a beautiful dress, a new road bike, a well-paying job or an influencer’s content on Instagram. The trouble comes when we prioritise these pursuits above God; when we devote our resources (time, money, headspace) to them first and everything else second, hoping they’ll deliver on their promise, perhaps a little faster and flasher. It’s when we place our hope, our value, and even our mood in them.
The trouble with subtle, socially accepted worship is that it can be tricky to spot, at least in ourselves.
So, how do we illuminate our subtle, socially accepted (and even celebrated) worship of other gods?
One approach is getting still and silent and honestly answering the question: “I’ll be happy/satisfied when…”. What are you quietly hoping will give you the joy, peace and contentment only Christ can fully deliver? Is it when you get that house or promotion, holiday, baby or figure? If you’re like me, there is more than one answer, and it illuminates what you may be worshipping.
A second method is then taking an inventory of the aforementioned resources. When planning your week and budget, what gets first priority, really? When you’re sitting in traffic, catching up with a friend, experiencing a rare moment of tech-less quiet, what topics or dreams live rent-free in your mind?
At the end of the day, worship isn’t just about what we bow to—it’s about what shapes us. Whether we realise it or not, the things we prioritise, pursue and pour ourselves into are forming us into their image. So the question isn’t if we worship, but what—and more importantly, is it worthy of our devotion?