James K. A. Smith in Chapter 4 of you are what you love (brazos press: grand rapids, mi. 2016)

Smith says:

You won't be liberated from deformation by new information. God doesn't deliver us from the deformative habit-forming power of tactile rival liturgies by merely giving us a book. Instead, he invites us into a different embodied liturgy that not only is suffused by the biblical story but also, via those practices, inscribes the story into our hearts as our erotic calibration, bending the needle of our loves toward Christ, our magnetic north. (p. 83-4)

To be conformed to the image of his Son is not only to think God's thoughts after him but to desire what god desires. (p. 85)

Christian worship that will be counterformative needs to be embodied, tangible, and visceral. The way to the heart is through the body. That's why counterformative Christian worship doesn't just dispense information; rather, it is a Christ-centered imagination station where we regularly undergo a ritual cleansing of the symbolic universes we absorb elsewhere. Christian worship doesn't just teach us how to think; it teaches us how to love, and it does so by inviting us into the biblical story and implanting that story in our bones. (p. 85)

"What is the chief end of man?" the consumerist catechism asks. "To acquire stuff with the illusion that I can enjoy it forever." (p. 86)

Formative Christian worship paints a picture of the beauty of the Lord -- and a vision of the shalom he desires for creation -- in a way that captures our imagination....That means that Christian worship needs to meet us as aesthetic creatures who are moved more that we are convinced. Our imaginations are aesthetic organs. (p. 91)

Christian worship should tell a story that makes us want to set sail for the immense sea that is the Triune God, birthing in us a longing for "a better country -- a heavenly one" that is kingdom come (Heb. 11:16). The biblical vision of shalom -- of a world where the Lamb is our light, where swords are beaten into ploughshares, where abundance is enjoyed by all, where people from every tribe and tongue and nation sing the same song of praise, where justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like an everlasting stream -- is the vision that should be enacted in Christian worship. And that vision will captivate us, not just because we "know" it's what God wants, but because the tangible practices of Christian worship paint the picture, as it were -- in the metaphors of the biblical story, the poetics of the Psalms, the meter of hymns and choruses, the tangible elements of bread and wine, the visions painted in stained glass -- all of which works on our imaginations, teaching us to want. (p. 93, my favorite paragraph of the chapter)

The best art, Aristotle says, makes plausible what might otherwise seem impossible. It is a matter of mimetic persuasion: convincing us that this could be. (p. 93-4)

To be human is to inhabit some narrative enchantment of the world. (p. 94)

But in a sense, any book that summarizes the plot will never be the same as immersing yourself in the practices yourselves. (p. 99)

But one of the unintended consequences of the Protestant Reformation, [Charles] Taylor [in his magnum opus, A Secular Age] argues, was a disenchantment of the world....The result was a process of excarnation -- of disembodying the Christian faith, turning it into a "heady" affair that could be boiled down to a message and grasped with the mind. To use a phrase that we considered above, this was Christianity reduced to something for brains-on-a-stick. (p. 101)

What Christian communities need to cultivate in our "secular age" is faithful patience, even receiving a secular age as a gift through which to renew and cultivate an incarnational, embodied, robustly orthodox Christianity that alone will look like a genuine alternative to "the spiritual." (p. 102-3)

Here is a truth that the seeker-sensitive movement couldn't have imagined: people want to confess. (p. 105)

We're hooked by stories, not bullet points. (p. 107)