Whether a Christian enjoys high church, low church, or something in between, aesthetics in the Church are not about any one individual person and their particular tastes. Aesthetics are, fundamentally, not a matter of legalism, but of edification—that the Gospel of Christ might be preached and taught to all peoples, unhindered by its medium.
Let us live by walking with Jesus, so that our Neo-Pagan neighbors, the witch, and frankly a lot of us Christians, can put down our crystals, our superstitions, our vision boards, and our bound sage in order to live out a liturgy of life, with rituals, practices, and behaviors that reflect who we are as followers of Christ.
As Jesus hung on the cross there would be no last second escape. No Greek goddess would swoop in to rescue him. He suffered alone. And yet even in that suffering he declared his victory on the spiritual battlefield to be your victory.

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A Christian is justified—saved from sin, death, and hell—by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone.
A single, fifteen minute sermon that proclaims Christ and him crucified for you is more important than hundreds of hours of lectures by experts on revitalizing your ministry.
The table is full-laden; feast ye all sumptuously. The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away.
Last year, a friend I follow tweeted, “Calling yourself a sinner is spitting on all the work that Jesus did to make you a saint.”
When it comes to faith, God runs all the verbs. God's Spirit calls us by the Gospel. He enlightens us with His gifts.
The story did not end with Jesus' death and resurrection, or even with the Acts of the Apostles.
Among the things that perturb me about modern Christianity is our residual clinging to a sort of “Christian-karma.”
The preacher does not merely send out the raven. From the pulpit flies forth the dove of the Gospel.
I grew up with a great deal of guilt. It still keeps me up at night. For one reason or another, I was convinced I hadn’t done enough to be loved by God.
Hers is not a beauty of breathtaking cathedrals, stained glass, or towering arches, but of a body.
It is the strangest of morgues—people arrive dead as doornails and leave alive.
Old Testament narratives foreshadowed the gifts that our Father gives us in baptism.