Worship as a Call to Tend
By Dan Sheed"And you are living stones that God is building into his spiritual temple. What’s more, you are his holy priests. Through the mediation of Jesus Christ, you offer spiritual sacrifices that please God.”
— 1 Peter 2:5
A few years ago, our whānau bought a fire-pit. Nothing fancy — just a big metal dish on legs, enough to gather around on cool evenings. Over the years it’s become a space for warmth, kōrero and connection. We’ve circled it with our kids, with our Circle group, with the youth, with mates. We’ve sat beside it on sabbath nights, slowing down and ending the day in its gentle glow.
And as I’ve sat there, watching embers dance late into the evening, I’ve realised there are two different ways I can be around that fire.
The first is just attending. I pull up a bench, I sit. The flames flicker, casting that warm orange light. It’s comforting. Beautiful. I enjoy being near it. It gives off warmth, and I’m there to soak it in.
But the second way is more involved — I tend to the fire. I notice when the flames die down and add more wood. I split the larger logs so they catch better. I stoke the embers, make sure there’s enough oxygen, and work to keep the fire going strong. I can’t just sit back. I have to stay engaged. Intentional. Otherwise, the fire fades.
There’s a difference between attending something and tending to it.
It’s the same with a garden. You can sit and admire it, or you can roll up your sleeves and weed, water, and prune.
It’s the same in relationships. You can be present in the room, or you can engage — you can check in, make space for depth, and give time and love to help it thrive.
And in the same way, when it comes to worship, there’s a difference between attending and tending.
Worship as a Priesthood, Not a Performance
Peter’s words in 1 Peter 2:5 paint a bold, beautiful picture for us. He says:
“You are living stones that God is building into his spiritual temple. What’s more, you are his holy priests...”
Here, Peter is stacking metaphors. First, we’re described as living stones — not just isolated blocks, but stones placed together by God, forming something much bigger than ourselves. Together, we become a temple, a home for God’s Spirit.
But Peter doesn’t stop there. He pushes us deeper. Not only are we part of the temple structure — we’re also its priests. We don’t just fill the building. We serve in it.
This is where the metaphor becomes a calling. It’s not just a nice idea. It’s an invitation to step into a priestly life — to tend to worship.
And honestly, this is where the rubber hits the road, because it confronts something deep in our culture and our ways of thinking.
From Consumers to Contributors
We live in a time where the dominant story is consumption. From the moment we wake, our attention is bought and sold. Ads promise us fulfilment, products whisper that we deserve more, and everything is available on-demand. We’re conditioned to consume — not just things, but experiences, relationships, even spirituality.
And tragically, this story has crept into the Church.
We talk about “going to church” as if it’s a place to visit, not a people we belong to.
We dip in and out of spiritual life like it’s another streaming service.
We rate sermons and songs like consumers rating a playlist.
But Peter offers us another story. A far older, truer one.
He tells us: You are not just an attender of church. You are the Church. You are a living stone in a living temple. And you are called to be a priest within it.
This call doesn’t land on pastors alone. It doesn’t belong to some elite few who hold the mic or lead the songs. This is a collective calling. All of us. You and me. We are the priesthood of believers.
And that changes everything.
The Enemy Loves a Passive Church
C.S. Lewis, in The Screwtape Letters, captures this tension brilliantly. In it, one demon writes to another, saying:
“A moderated religion is as good for us as no religion at all—and more amusing.”
Lewis' point? The enemy of our souls is more than happy with a lukewarm, disengaged Church. A church filled with people who attend but never tend. A church that’s passive. Comfortable. Ineffective.
Because consumer Christianity is a useless Christianity.
That’s a hard word, I know. But it’s one we need to hear — not because you are useless or unworthy, but because the narrative we’re often living in is robbing us of our true purpose.
We are called into something far richer. Far riskier. Far more alive.
We are called to participate.
What Do Priests Actually Do?
Let’s get practical. If Peter says we’re all priests, what does that even mean?
In the Old Testament, priests had a distinct role:
They ministered to God (worship, sacrifice, prayer).
They lived set-apart lives (holy and just).
They served the people (offering, interceding).
They represented God to the world.
To put it in a simple framework:
UP: Minister to God
IN: Work alongside one another
OUT: Serve the people
OF: Handle what’s needed in the moment
That’s a priest’s rhythm. It’s the rhythm of worship.
It’s the shape of a life that tends to God’s presence — not just in songs on a Sunday, but in every moment, every place.
And that’s the call for us.
The Worshipping Life: Fire Tenders, Not Spectators
So let’s get honest for a moment.
Where in your life have you been attending the fire, but not tending to it?
What does it look like for you to stoke the embers of worship again — to bring the wood, the effort, the intentionality?
You don’t have to be on the stage to be a priest.
You don't have to know every Bible verse or have a perfect track record.
You just need to say yes. To show up. To engage. To serve. To offer.
Here at Central Vineyard, I see it happening all the time:
In our worship teams, who minister to God, create beauty together, and serve the church with skill and heart.
In Gratis, our community meal on Monday nights, where people bring food and love, tending to the hunger of others with quiet dignity.
In our prayer gatherings, where people gather not to consume spiritual goods, but to stand in the gap — for our church, our city, our world.
All of these are spaces where the priesthood is alive and well.
All of these are invitations for you to participate.
Final Reflections by the Fire
Let’s come back to that firepit, one more time.
Let’s imagine that fire is your life of worship. That deep place of communion with God. That space of calling and presence.
Who’s been tending that fire for you? We would have all benefitted from other saints who have stoked a fire that we have benefitted from. Nothing wrong with that — it’s to be celebrated. How might you honour their work — and learn from it?
And more importantly: What does it look like for you to pick up the tools, and tend to the flame?
To be a living stone in a temple still under construction.
To be a priest in the sacred rhythms of everyday life.
To say yes to the worshipping life — not as a spectator, but as a fire-keeper.
You’ve been called.
Called not to attend, but to tend.
And the fire is waiting.