Disembodied Piety: The Crisis That Replaced Dead Orthodoxy
In my early formative years in pastoral ministry, I was warned about the pitfalls of Dead Orthodoxy. In my former denomination, I was told stories about antiquated Lutherans who were, for lack of a better word, all body and no soul. I was taught that these Lutherans were technically not heretics, for they held correct doctrine and practiced precise liturgy. Instead, the problem was that they were dead on the inside. They had doctrine without inward devotion. They had liturgy without heart. They had vocations without holiness. And so, in reaction to these Dead Orthodox Lutherans, faithful Christians should seek to reinstate and uphold devotion, heart, and holiness.
Fast-forward past my formative years to my season of deepening. I believe I had been faithful as a pastor in promoting devotion, heart, and holiness. But truth be told, I noticed a very troubling pattern: for lack of a better word, the parishioners I had served were all soul and no body. I can remember this clearly hitting me when I noticed many in my parish had great devotional enthusiasm that was not grounded in solid Lutheran catechesis but in religious emotion. Furthermore, I remember observing that our worship services looked different every single week, with the liturgical furniture (i.e., font and altar) mounted on wheels and pushed to the side. Finally, I recalled many conversations about holiness that were disconnected from good works - works that were screaming to be done in people’s vocations. Alas, the good works within ordinary vocations were being ignored.
What became clear to me was that devotion, heart, and holiness were admirable qualities for the Christian life. But like all things, correctives almost always create equal and opposite ditches. That is to say, the people I had served had traded Dead Orthodoxy for Disembodied Piety. They had devotion without doctrine, heart without liturgy, and holiness without vocation. They were all soul and no body.
It has been clear to me, as of late, that much of American spirituality has swung the way of Disembodied Piety as well. This is why much devotional thought comes across like a demolition derby – personal sentiments lacking theological substance, leading to theological chaos. Each person’s devotional piety collides with that of others. Secondly, a heart unhinged from liturgy becomes its own sanctuary, leading worship to become a mirror of a person’s spontaneous spiritual emotions. Everyone worshipping as they see fit in so-called sanctuaries with no crosses, fonts, altars, or pulpits. And finally, when holiness is not tied to vocation, it tragically transforms into spiritual intensity, moral passion, and inner transformation that floats above the clouds, being disconnected from vocational duties in marriage, family, parenting, work, and neighborly love.
So, what is the corrective? The corrective is not to dismiss devotion, heart, and holiness but to give them shape and direction. You see, devotion needs doctrine to give it truth, the heart needs liturgy to give it structure, and holiness needs vocation to give it substance. Again, devotion, heart, and holiness are not the problem. They are necessary. But keep in mind that they are given a body - doctrine, liturgy, and vocation – so that they might be grounded and real. Just as the soul needs a body - devotion, heart, and holiness need concrete and real shape.
A caution must be made at this point. When people are accustomed to Disembodied Piety, the reintroduction of doctrine, liturgy, and vocation will feel like a cage, muzzle, and downgrade.
The Cage
For a person accustomed to Disembodied Piety, devotion has always been internal, emotional, and subjective. Therefore, the reintroduction of doctrine can feel rigid, restrictive, academic, and controlling. They are used to a spirituality that floats, and the idea of doctrine that anchors can feel like a loss of authenticity and the Holy Spirit being boxed in. To them, doctrine feels like a cage.
This should not catch us off guard. Disembodied Piety often grows in places where doctrine is thin or treated as an optional accessory to the Christian life—where the creed is replaced by personal testimonies, where catechesis is shrugged off as “head knowledge,” and where precision in the Scriptures is viewed with suspicion.
And so, when such a person finally encounters the weight of the Church’s teaching—her catechism and historic confessions, her creeds, her insistence on confessing the same Gospel with the same voice—it feels intrusive, even legalistic. What the Church understands as Christ giving His people a firm foundation, Disembodied Piety interprets as control or constraint. They grow uneasy when their devotion is asked to take shape—when the mind must be instructed, and the mouth must be corrected. And this uneasiness often blossoms into a quiet resistance to doctrine itself, as though submitting to the clarity of God’s true doctrine would diminish the authenticity of their devotion.
The Muzzle
A person shaped by Disembodied Piety is accustomed to worship that exists almost entirely within the inner chambers of the heart, the spinning of emotions, and the private spiritual realm of the individual. So, when such a person encounters a worship life marked by order, structure, and embodied practices, the shift is abrupt. What the Church receives as a gracious rhythm—Christ’s people standing, kneeling, bowing, confessing, and praying as one—Disembodied Piety experiences as restrictive. To them, the liturgy feels less like a gift and more like a muzzle placed over the heart of worship.
This should not surprise us. It is not uncommon for Disembodied Piety to flourish in sanctuaries stripped of the Church’s historic anchors: no orders of service, no lectionaries, no altar or font or pulpit, and little to no corporate use of the physical body in worship—no bowing, no making the sign of the cross, no kneeling. Worship becomes a floating, inward experience rather than a shared, embodied confession.
And so, when a person accustomed to Disembodied Piety is confronted with the Church’s physicality—her sacred space, her liturgical furniture, her ordered liturgy, her unified bodily postures—they feel as though something is being imposed upon them. What the Church sees as the body of Christ acting as one, Disembodied Piety interprets as constraint, structure, and unwelcome choreography. They are uneasy letting worship take shape in both the mind and the physical body. And this discomfort often manifests as a rejection of reverence itself, as though the very act of submitting the mind and physical body to a holy order threatens the authenticity of their worship.
The Downgrade
For someone formed in Disembodied Piety, holiness has always meant spiritual intensity, dramatic experiences, and moments of inward zeal. Their picture of the Christian life is elevated and lofty. So, when they encounter the biblical teaching of vocation—holiness expressed in ordinary duties, daily responsibilities, quiet service, and faithfulness in mundane places—it feels beneath them. The mundane seems unspiritual. The ordinary feels like a lowering of spiritual altitude – a downgrade.
This should not surprise us. Disembodied Piety often takes root in places where the plain, ordinary Christian life is dismissed as second-rate. Marriage, parenting, daily labor, tending to the needs of a neighbor—these are seen not as holy callings but as obstacles that get in the way of “real ministry.” Daily dying to self for one’s neighbor is set aside in favor of emotional peaks. The slow, steady, consistent, and quiet good works are overshadowed by the chase for the next spiritual rush. In these circles, holiness is measured by dramatic moments rather than by daily faithfulness.
And so, when Disembodied Piety finally collides with the Church’s teaching on vocation—that God actually delights to work His will through ordinary people in ordinary callings—it feels foreign, even offensive. What the Church confesses as a sacred calling to love the neighbor with real, tangible acts, Disembodied Piety perceives as an interruption to spiritual ambitions. They grow uneasy when holiness is asked to take on flesh and blood – when holiness gets into the ordinary dirt of ordinary life.
Conclusion
In the end, the answer to Dead Orthodoxy is not Disembodied Piety, just as the cure for Disembodied Piety is not a return to Dead Orthodoxy. Remember, a body without a soul is incomplete and unhealthy, just as a soul without a body is incomplete. The church – and Christians – need devotion, but devotion shaped by doctrine. The Christian needs a vibrant heart, but a heart ordered by the liturgy. The Christian is called to holiness, but holiness lived out in the real grit and grind of vocation. We must not fear the shape and form that the Lord has given to the church’s devotion, worship, and holiness.
Tragically, when true doctrine, reverent liturgy, and Godly vocations are seen as cages, muzzles, and downgrades, these impressions reveal more about malformed expectations of Disembodied Piety than they do about the gifts themselves.
The truth is this: Christ has not called us to live as hovering spirits but as embodied people—baptized into His death, fed with His body and blood, placed into concrete callings for the good of the neighbor. Devotion, heart, and holiness are good, but they are not free-floating virtues. They must be anchored, formed, and given flesh.
And in Christ, they are.
Comments