The Worship Trap

Read

Ecclesiastes 5:1 “Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong.”

Think

You can show up to worship and still miss God entirely.

That’s the trap Ecclesiastes 5 warns us about—not skipping worship, but mishandling it. Coming close, singing loud, raising hands, but never actually encountering God. Going through the motions while your heart stays distracted, half-engaged, or stuck on autopilot.

It’s a bit like working out with terrible form. You can lift weights every day, but if your posture is wrong, you’re not building strength—you’re risking injury. In the same way, you can engage in all the right worship behaviors but still train your heart to love something else.

The Bible calls this “the sacrifice of fools.” External activity with no internal humility. Passion with no posture. It’s not that God is demanding perfect behavior. But he is inviting honest surrender. He wants people who come to worship to actually worship—not just perform, consume, or observe.

Think of it like this: imagine a couple going out to dinner to reconnect. They light candles, sit across from each other, and then stare at their phones the entire time. The setting says intimacy, but the behavior says distraction. That’s the trap we fall into when worship becomes a ritual instead of a response.

Worship isn’t just about where you are or what you do—it’s about how you come.

Ecclesiastes says to “guard your steps.” That’s intentional language. Guarding your steps means thinking about your posture before you ever walk through the doors. It means approaching God with reverence, not routine. Not because he’s fragile, but because he’s holy.

But that’s hard when we live in a culture that trains us to treat everything like a product. We binge, swipe, scroll, rate, and move on. It’s easy to let that same mindset seep into worship. “How was church today?” “Did you like the message?” “The band was kind of off.” “That song didn’t do it for me.”

We turn worship into an experience we review instead of a God we revere.

One of the sneakiest ways we violate the Second Commandment is not through a carved idol, but through careless worship. Not because we overtly reject God, but because we engage with him like a background soundtrack instead of the Holy One.

And here’s the scary part: you can do it for years and never notice. The lyrics are familiar. The atmosphere feels good. You assume something is happening. But slowly, subtly, your worship becomes more about the moment than the Maker.

It’s like singing I Surrender All while gripping the steering wheel of your own life with white knuckles. Or declaring “Have your way,” when what you really mean is “As long as your way looks like mine.” God is not looking for lip service. He’s looking for hearts that listen.

That’s why Ecclesiastes tells us to “go near to listen.” Before we sing, before we speak, before we offer anything—we listen. That’s worship. Not just lifting hands, but bending ears. Not just declaring truth, but submitting to it.

And listening is costly. It takes time. It requires silence. It means entering worship not as a critic or a consumer, but as a servant ready to respond.

There’s a story in 1 Samuel where King Saul offers a sacrifice he wasn’t authorized to give. On the surface, it looks like worship. He’s giving something to God. But it’s not obedience—it’s anxiety dressed up as religion. And God rejects it.

Why? Because God wants obedience, not performance. Reverence, not results.

That’s the heart of this commandment. Worship isn’t just about what we do. It’s about why we do it, and how we approach the God we claim to honor.

And the beautiful thing is, when we guard our steps—when we slow down, when we remember who we’re coming before—worship becomes a place of transformation. Not just expression.

We stop treating it like a task to check off and start treating it like a throne room to enter. Our words become weighty. Our songs carry substance. Our posture shifts. We aren’t there to “get something out of church.” We’re there to give God our attention, affection, and awe.

That’s the kind of worshiper the Father seeks. Not perfect people. Listening people. Honest people. People who know their own distractions and ask God to center them again. People who see worship not as something to get through, but as the moment that resets everything else.

Apply

Before your next worship moment—whether at church or alone—pause. Take a breath. Ask God to help you guard your steps. Don’t rush in distracted. Don’t fake it. Don’t just go through the motions. Listen first. Let him speak. Then let everything you say, sing, or offer come from a place of response. Worship starts when we stop.

Pray

God, I don’t want to bring you empty rituals. I want to bring you my heart. Help me guard my steps. Teach me to worship you with reverence, with honesty, and with focus. Forgive me for the times I’ve treated worship like a routine or a performance. I want to listen. I want to respond. I want to honor you with more than my lips. In Jesus’ name. Amen.