I’ve been a pastor for nearly 14 years in a denomination that is known the world over for its innovation in worship music. But there’s a dirty little secret that not many people talk about: hardly anybody in church sings anymore.
And it’s not just us.
I’ve been to dozens of churches in different denominations (including my own) and there’s not much singing going on in any of them. In fact, it’s not just the congregations. Last year I was at a regional pastor’s conference where for two straight days worship bands took the stage morning, noon, and night and blasted us with heartfelt songs…and very few people sang. We watched, we tapped our feet, we clapped politely after every song (I hate that), and we smiled. But hardly anyone sang. And these were pastors.
I have to admit, personally I have been completely bored with Sunday morning worship for well over 12 years. By and large I think the evangelical brand of worship is an inch wide and an inch deep and, even worse, our dependence on technology results in the mediation of genuine experience – and video-venue churches only exacerbate that problem.
Lots of folks want to blame the decline of congregational singing on shallow pop-songs and amplified music, but let’s be honest: the problem of lackluster worship began long before electric guitars. Archaic hymns weren’t connecting with emerging generations in the 60′s and hymns connect even less with uninitiated emerging generations today. They may learn to appreciate hymns (as I have), but it takes time to integrate hymns meaningfully into our context. Besides, there’s nothing inherently virtuous about songs written before the 20th century.
Some think the solution involves raising the bar for “good songs” or “good worship leaders.” I’m all for doing things well, but what people typically mean is that we need to ratchet up the skill level. That sort of subjective elitism will only lead to more of the professional/amateur split that already threatens the integrity of the Western Church at large.
Others vilify the Jesus-is-my-boyfriend brand of worship songs which make Christ the intimate object of our emotional expression. There’s an entire chapter devoted to this in a well-known missional church book. The author’s rant toward intimacy-orientated contemporary worship is so antagonistic that it borders on homophobia (seriously, I was embarrassed for him when I read it).
But, as bad as contemporary worship can get, I think we ought to admit that it has done much to revitalize the faith of (probably) millions of people all over the world. In fact, by far the most participatory, passionate, powerful congregational singing I’ve joined, hands down (no pun intended), was in contemporary-worship settings. There’s nothing inherently wrong with emotionally expressing our love and devotion to God through contemporary, first-person songs. Emotions ought to be part of our offering.
It’s true that many old hymns are theologically rich compared to many new worship songs, but we tend to compare the best of the former with the worst of the latter and pat ourselves on the back for being theologically astute. Moreover, I think many people simply feel hymns are theologically richer for strictly aesthetic reasons. Archaic language tends to seem smarter because it’s less accessible – when in fact it’s just archaic (people think the King James Bible is theologically richer for the exact same reason).
Usually, when it comes down to it, these perspectives are mostly about taste and temperament. We want our worship to look like us (gregarious, dignified, upper-class, blue-collar, hip-hop, alternative, contemplative, country, hipster…take your pick). When it looks like me it doesn’t threaten me.
There’s a lot going on with this dilemma, but I’m going to risk oversimplifying by saying I think it’s fundamentally a failure to teach what worship is through our church praxis. Our understanding of what worship actually is must be followed harmoniously (which is where evangelicals fail) and contextually (which is where inherited traditions fail) by the way we actually practice worship. What we do teaches more powerfully than what we say. When we attract people to a passively-received spectacle, we’re teaching them that worship is spectatorship – so we shouldn’t be surprised when they become passive spectators. As Bill Kinnon recently observed, What we win them with is what we win them to.
Good teaching is a relatively slow process of discerning not only what people need, but also what they already have. It’s like a pot-luck. The good teacher’s job is to set a table where everyone can enjoy a full meal because of what everyone brings. Moreover, what we’re teaching (namely, Christian worship) is not an event or a gathering – it is an ongoing life of this very kind of meal, where the first gift is offered by God (demonstrated via Eucharist) and the offering of oneself to God in return through the diverse gifts of the faith community (which are also given by God) is the only reasonable response (Rom 12). It’s logically obvious that at this kind of meal and in this kind of life everyone must pitch in (1 Cor 14). Hence, this kind of worship is best taught by living that way intentionally, over a long period of time with other people. Our gatherings should represent that same slow-cooked, pot-luck life.
However, from a church leadership perspective, there’s a very real temptation to abdicate that kind of participatory worship-teaching in favor of entertainment because entertainment can quickly draw a crowd, and crowds can be inspired to give money – and money is what makes the world church go round (isn’t it?). We never say that out loud, but we always rationalize it. We think we can’t sustain ourselves without the kind of revenue that entertainment promises. We’re addicted to the drug of conspicuous success (bigger, better, stronger, faster) and we no longer believe that God’s daily provision of gifts, given through the faithful, will result in conspicuous success – and it probably won’t. Therefore, we’ve taken control of God’s gifts by converting them to cash so we can spend them however we please.
But there’s another dimension to teaching, and, behind that, another dimension to the preference for entertainment-based worship.
On the last night of that lackluster pastor’s conference, a well-known worship leader took the stage and did something radically different: he told us what to do. He coached and exhorted us through our apathy until eventually the place came alive and people brought their sacrifices publicly. There is a general squeamishness today among missional leaders about being too directive – and for good reason. For far too long the church has been enamored with a coercive posture of power. But good teaching also recognizes when to be directive and correct mistakes.
We’ve confused individualized liberty with authentic worship and the result is entire congregations of people who are isolated in a crowd: “Good morning! Here at church XYZ we believe you’re free to worship any way you like. Just do whatever feels comfortable.” Well, frankly, that’s a leadership cop-out. It’s bad teaching and it isn’t even remotely theologically true. When we worship this way, we aren’t feasting at the table of the Lord on gifts of grace that flow from divine abundance, we’re merely eating our own egos. Like modern consumers of fast food, we’re getting spiritually fat while simultaneously dying of malnutrition.
Down deep, our worship dilemma isn’t about the songs, the style, the instruments, the amplification, or even the loss of connectedness to our past traditions. Those things are important and should be used appropriately in harmony with the best theology. But the core problem is us, not our structures or systems. We’ll always take every opportunity we can to break every well-intentioned system we create. The problem is the condition of our hearts. We need to learn to lay down our egos and offer ourselves as living sacrifices. We need to surrender and submit to the will of the ultimate other (that’s the literal meaning of coming to “the alter”).
That’s hard, vulnerable, and humbling. After all, when it comes down to it, we’re all the students in this classroom. Sometimes we’re leaders and sometimes we’re followers – but we’re always beggars at the table. At the end of the day it’s easier serve entertainment because that way we all get to keep our egos.
Technorati Tags: Bill Kinnon, Church, Hymns, Pot-Luck, Singing, worship
Every Saturday around the time Cory and Crissy go to the park another man shows up with his bible and preaches a message. Every week he says the same thing: “You’re sinners; you’re filthy and depraved; your addictions are keeping you from God and you’re going to Hell; turn to God and be saved.” This means saying the sinners prayer so they’ll go to heaven when they die – because that’s what’s really important. Additionally, the natural, yet deeply superstitious implication is that if they do so, some of their immediate problems might start going away too.
Now, I want to assure you that we’ve looked high and low to find a suitable place for you. We immediately thought the classes and small groups would be the best fit, but it turns out those are already full of teachers, and, to be perfectly frank, they say you talk too much and don’t leave room for dialogue (just between you and me, though, I think they don’t want to compete with your charisma). In fact, truth be told, we’ve decided the best thing to do with Sunday mornings is plug in a good, strong teacher with an ESV Bible to “feed the sheep,” so-to-speak, along with a stiff shot of ancient liturgy (I don’t mind telling you we’re quite excited about that one!).
