If you’ve spent any time on this site, you’ll have seen me use the phrase “inclusive, justice-shaped worship” quite a lot.
It’s at the heart of Priming the Lectionary. It’s woven through the hymns, prayers and song videos I share. It shapes the free resources here and the work I’m doing through Holyvity. But I realise it may not always be clear what I actually mean by it.
This hasn’t always been my language. As I’ve journeyed in faith, my writing and ministry have become increasingly justice-focussed and intentionally inclusive. What began as “trying to find helpful worship words” has grown into a conviction that justice and inclusion are not optional extras or niche interests; they are central to the gospel and therefore central to how we worship. This post is part of how I’m trying to name that clearly.
What follows isn’t a finished definition, but a shared starting point. My hope is that it helps you recognise some of your own longings, questions and hopes for worship too.
Worship that reflects who God is – and who God stands with
At the most basic level, worship is our response to who God is and what God is doing.
As I’ve read scripture, prayed, preached and listened to people’s stories, I’ve become convinced that:
- God consistently stands with those on the margins – those who are poor, excluded, silenced or weighed down.
- Jesus comes to set people free – not only in some distant future, but in the messy realities of here and now.
- The Holy Spirit keeps pushing the church outwards – towards those we’ve overlooked, ignored or harmed.
Over time, this has changed what I write and how I lead. Earlier in my journey, I might have spoken about justice occasionally or in certain seasons. Now I can’t imagine worship that isn’t shaped by it. For me, justice isn’t a theme we dip into; it’s part of how we tell the truth about who God is.
When I say “justice-shaped”, I mean that worship ought to be honest about this. It should help us see God’s bias toward the oppressed, not hide it. It should make space for lament, protest and truth-telling, not just cheerful songs and tidy prayers. It should remind us that salvation is more than “getting to heaven”; it’s about God’s reign of justice and mercy breaking into the present.
Inclusive, justice-shaped worship says:
God is not only comforting individuals; God is also challenging systems that crush people. God is not only saving souls; God is healing bodies, communities and creation. God does not only love “people like us”; God delights in those we might ignore.
If our worship doesn’t somehow reflect this, then I’m not sure it’s reflecting the God we meet in Jesus.
Inclusive: who is in the room – and who isn’t?
“Inclusive” is a word that gets used a lot, and it can mean everything and nothing. For me, it’s not about ticking diversity boxes or sprinkling a bit of inclusive language over everything and declaring the job done. It’s about paying attention to who is in the room, who isn’t, and who is present but unheard.
When I talk about inclusive worship, I’m thinking about:
- Queer and trans people who have been told that their bodies, loves or identities don’t belong in church.
- Disabled people who find that physical, sensory or social barriers make worship exhausting, painful or impossible.
- Neurodivergent people who struggle with noise, crowds, eye contact or long stretches of abstract speech.
- People in poverty or precarious housing who are often invisible in church conversations.
- People of colour whose experiences of racism inside and outside the church are rarely named.
- Survivors of trauma and abuse, including spiritual and institutional abuse.
- Those who are simply tired, doubtful, burnt out or on the edges of faith.
Inclusive worship asks, over and over:
- Who can fully participate in what we’re doing?
- Whose stories, bodies and voices are visible up front – and whose are missing?
- What assumptions does this language make about family, gender, ability, money, citizenship, “respectability”?
- What might it be like to sit through this service with that life experience?
Sometimes inclusion will mean changing the way we do things: different formats, different voices, different ways of praying or responding. Sometimes it will mean naming realities we’ve been silent about, even when that feels uncomfortable. And sometimes it will simply mean being honest: “We haven’t always got this right, and we want to listen and learn.”
Worship that offers more than one way in
Justice-shaped inclusion is not only about who we talk about; it’s also about how we invite people to participate.
In my teaching career I worked with children with a wide variety of needs. That experience sharpened my awareness that we don’t all take in information or express ourselves in the same way. The world – and church – is often set up for one particular kind of body, one particular way of thinking and communicating.
So, when I’m writing resources, I try to ask:
- Is this worship service shaped around just one way of engaging (usually lots of words, spoken from the front)?
- Are there visual, creative, reflective, embodied ways to respond, as well as verbal and cognitive ones?
- Are there options for those who can’t stand for long, see the screen clearly, cope with loud music, or concentrate for 20 minutes in silence?
- Is there space for people to opt in gently, rather than be put on the spot?
In Priming the Lectionary this shows up in things like:
- Threads to Explore – different angles on the readings, so people can find a connection that fits their story.
- Visual and Creative ideas – ways of engaging with scripture using imagination, art, movement or simple objects.
- Practices – concrete actions that can be taken into the week, so worship doesn’t stop at the church door.
- Meditations, prayers and song texts – for those who connect most deeply through carefully-crafted words and music.
Not every service will use every option – and that’s fine. The point is to create more than one doorway into worship, so more people can walk through in ways that feel safe and true.
Justice-shaped: telling the truth and joining in with God
Justice-shaped worship doesn’t mean every service is a lecture on politics, or that we squeeze every newspaper headline into the prayers. It does, however, mean taking seriously that:
- The Bible itself is deeply political – it talks about land, labour, law, debt, empires and economies.
- Jesus’ ministry constantly collides with unjust structures – religious, social, economic and imperial.
- The Spirit’s work in the early church disrupts neat boundaries of gender, ethnicity, class and status.
So I try to create resources that:
- Name injustice honestly – including when the church has been complicit.
- Hold lament and hope together – allowing people to grieve without being rushed to “positivity”.
- Point towards actions and practices, not just feelings – ways of joining in with God’s work of liberation.
Sometimes that will look like a line in a prayer:
“God of those pushed aside by our systems and structures…”
Sometimes it will look like a meditation that gently questions who is centred in a familiar parable. Sometimes it will emerge as a Practice suggestion – supporting a local food project, learning from disabled voices, examining how our church money is invested, standing alongside queer and trans siblings.
Justice-shaped worship doesn’t give us a checklist. It simply refuses to pretend that faith lives in a separate box from housing, racism, disability, sexuality, climate, or the cost-of-living crisis. It keeps asking: What might it mean to join in with God’s justice here, in this place, with all people?
Centring stories from the margins
One of the gifts of liberation and queer theology has been the insistence that we must listen to those whose experiences have been ignored or silenced. That has deeply shaped how I approach worship and resource-writing.
In practice, it means:
- Letting stories from the the margins influence how we read scripture and sing about God.
- Writing hymns and prayers that allow for anger, exhaustion, confusion and doubt, as well as joy and gratitude.
- Making sure that queer, disabled, neurodivergent and other marginalised people are not only spoken about, but seen as active participants, leaders and theologians.
Some of the most powerful moments in my ministry have been walking alongside queer Christians who thought there was no place for them in the church, and seeing their faces when they realise that God’s love really is for them – not in spite of who they are, but including it. Those are holy moments. They remind me that the way we shape worship can either reinforce people’s sense of exclusion, or become a doorway into freedom.
Inclusive, justice-shaped worship aims for that doorway.
Where my resources fit in
Everything I’ve described here is much bigger than one website, one book or one person’s work. Many individuals and communities have been practising inclusive, justice-shaped worship for years in all sorts of ways.
What I’m trying to do, in a small way, is to offer tools and words that might help:
- Preachers, ministers and worship leaders who are trying to plan services that reflect God’s inclusive heart but feel stretched for time and ideas.
- Small group leaders and chaplains who want to open up scripture in ways that feel honest, accessible and liberating.
- Individuals who are looking for songs, prayers and reflections that help them connect with God when traditional language no longer fits.
- Communities who long to move their worship closer to the margins, but aren’t sure how to start.
On GaryHopkins.net, I share free resources – liturgies, songs, lectionary materials and reflections – because I want there to be a well people can draw from without worrying about cost. Through Holyvity, I’m also publishing and curating resources (including Priming the Lectionary) that take more time and investment to produce.
A key part of my hope for Holyvity is that it will provide a platform for other people’s work too – especially voices from the margins: queer, disabled, neurodivergent and other often-overlooked writers, artists and theologians whose insights the wider church urgently needs.
Together, these are two parts of the same call: supporting the church as it leans into worship that is more inclusive, justice-shaped and alive.
An ongoing conversation
None of this is finished. I’m still learning, still getting things wrong, still being challenged by the experiences and wisdom of others. Inclusive, justice-shaped worship isn’t a destination we arrive at; it’s an ongoing practice of listening, repenting, reshaping and trying again.
If anything in this post resonates with you – or raises questions – you’re very welcome to explore the resources on this site and to use whatever is helpful in your own context. I’d also love to hear your stories:
- Where have you seen glimpses of inclusive, justice-shaped worship?
- Where are the tensions and struggles in your community?
- What would help you take another small step?
My prayer is that, together, we’ll keep moving towards worship that reflects more clearly the God we meet in Jesus: a God whose love is wide, whose justice is tender and fierce, and whose Spirit keeps drawing us into a bigger, braver, more beautiful story.