‘Lift up your hearts’ is more than just another formulaic line in worship
The Revs. Kristin Hutson and Joseph Morrow preside over the Communion Liturgy at Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, Ill. Photo: Gerald Farinas.
When the presbyter says, “Lift up your hearts,” and the people answer, “We lift them to the Lord,” it’s not just formulaic words for worship.
It’s not just a liturgical formality before Communion.
It’s a bold act of resistance.
It’s a declaration of hope.
It’s a spiritual uprising in a world that keeps trying to drag us down.
To lift up your heart is to refuse to let the world bury your spirit in fear, in bitterness, or in despair.
It means:
When confidence in government crumbles and power is hoarded by those who lie and bully—we lift up our hearts and say, “God is still with the people.”
When leaders embrace strongmen and sell out the vulnerable—we lift up our hearts and say, “Our hope is not in princes, but in justice, mercy, and love.”
When the planet groans and burns and floods because of our greed—we lift up our hearts and say, “Creation still sings, and we will fight for its healing.”
When hatred creeps into our schools, our churches, our streets—we lift up our hearts and say, “God’s love is bigger than fear.”
To lift up your heart is to lift up your eyes, your voice, your hands.
It means refusing to give in to numbness.
Refusing to become cynical.
Refusing to let the cruelty of this world own your soul.
It’s not naive. It’s not pretending everything is okay. It’s defiant hope.
It’s saying:
“Yes, the world is heavy—but our hearts are not chained to it.”
When we lift up our hearts, we remind ourselves and each other:
We belong to something greater.
We answer to a higher call.
We are not alone.
God is still moving.
So even now—especially now—let’s lift up our hearts.
Because if we don’t, who will?
