Brief thoughts on worship in song

This past Sunday evening, our family again worshipped with the brothers and sisters at Lifepoint in Westerville.

The congregational singing there is very similar to that of Northbrook (our former church in Tennessee): loud and passionate . . . guitars and drums . . . mostly newer, popular songs with a well-known hymn or two thrown in for good measure. It’s what Amy and I are used to, and a big part of what drew us to Northbrook, having both come from mostly-boomer-to-octogenarian churches that generally sang nothing but Fanny Crosby hymns and crappy 80s “praise choruses” (think Shine, Jesus, Shine or Give Thanks), accompanied by a piano and an acoustic guitar. For some reason, though, things seemed “off” this week at Lifepoint. It wasn’t the band; they sounded great. It wasn’t the leader; he has a great voice and he’s obviously sincere in what he sings. It was a combination of a few things that I normally (or formerly) wouldn’t even notice and/or care about . . .

It was too loud, and I couldn’t hear myself or others singing.

My view of worship in song was rather profoundly affected by a little article called “9.5 Theses On Worship” from an issue of Christianity Today magazine. Being a member of Northbrook (a rather “loud” church), and especially being on their vocal team, I was particularly struck by thesis number seven: “Those who lead the church in song are called to assist the congregation in its singing, not to replace it—technologies such as amplification must be used with theological and pastoral sensitivity.” Before reading that statement and the explanation that followed, I was generally of the mindset that anyone who complained that our music was “too loud” was just old and/or overly traditionalistic and needed to get over it. After all, we’re here to enjoy ourselves, right? The more noise, the more fun we must be having, and therefore it’s better “worship”, right? Not quite. From the article . . .

On many Sundays, nowadays, it seems that it does not matter if I sing during worship, for I cannot hear myself even if I do. Nor can I hear the brothers and sisters sitting near me. In fact, we can only hear those few people standing up front with their microphones. Sometimes, we barely hear even them, because their voices are also drowned out by the amplified instruments that are supposedly accompanying all of us as we sing.

When I mention these things to song leaders today, I am often told that this is a generational matter, that younger people simply like it louder than do older people (like me). But I don’t buy it. Israel’s praise was no doubt often lively and loud. But throughout the history of Judeo-Christian worship, if the volume was loud, it was the sound of the people themselves, or the glory of our great God, that made it so. But in our day, our volume comes mostly from amplifiers. We simply have not sufficiently wrestled with how to use the host of new technologies. We need, among other things, a theology of electronic amplification!

The Bible commands us to “speak to one another” in songs, hymns, and spiritual songs (Eph. 5:19; Col. 3:16). I find myself longing for such experiences today. I need to hear my sisters and brothers confessing the faith into my ears, and they need to hear me. Surely it is not only the professionals or the gifted who believe the things we are singing. Those who lead us in song must do precisely that—lead us, not replace us or overpower us. Let the amplifiers provide for a volume level loud enough to help us do our job, for it is the congregation, and not the band, that is the true “worship team.”

What?! Could it be that our guitars and our drums and our voices are to glorify God and to edify the believers? Could it be that we’re not just there to tickle our ears and those of the “seeker”? Surely you jest!

Since reading that article, my view on instrumentation and amplification in worship has changed dramatically. I honestly felt like I was at a Passion conference or a Shane & Shane concert this past Sunday, and I found myself mentally pining for the quieter, hymn-driven worship I’d experienced the past could of weeks at the presbyterian church. Don’t get me wrong: conferences and concerts are fine for what they are, but they are not corporate worship, and worship leaders don’t need to try to be rock stars. Lead the congregation in song; don’t drown them out. If you’re in a small space, adjust your volume accordingly. Unless you have a strong vocal team to take it over, stick to the melody and don’t throw in excessive runs or counter-melodies that could confuse the congregation you’re supposed to be leading.

It is sometimes appropriate to be loud in our singing to God and eachother, but what good can that be when all we can hear is the wail of a guitar?

The songs seemed rather individualistic and didn’t really address the church’s corporate relationship with Christ.

One good thing that came out of the “Jesus Movement” of the 60s and 70s was the overt emphasis on Christianity being a “personal relationship” between a person and Jesus, as opposed to being some club one is simply born into or automatically taken into upon being baptized as a baby. Unfortunately, it seems that it subsequently gave rise to the increasing hyper-individualism that’s plaguing our churches today . . . everything has become about “me and God” and if you don’t like it, you can’t judge me! Hogwash.

Now, certainly there is a personal aspect to Christianity. Every believer should have personal time with God in prayer, study, worship, service, etc. God does save individuals, but we seem to have forgotten that he does so in order to build a people for his glory. Our forgetfulness of this fact is often reflected our songs. The article’s sixth thesis is this: “The body of Christ in worship is more than an assembly of individual worshipers—we need more we songs.” Quoting again . . .

When I attend services that feature “contemporary” worship today, it seems that 80 percent to 90 percent of all the songs sung by the congregation prominently feature that familiar trinity of I, Me, My. Rarely do we sing songs that remind us of our identity as the body of Christ, the people of God. There are simply too few we songs in our congregational gatherings. It seems that many songwriters have taken songs directly from their personal devotional life into the assembly, without considering the possibility of adapting the songs for congregational use. In cultures that are already dominated by narcissism, this is unwise and dangerous.

From Jesus’ teaching about praying to our Father in secret, to Paul’s admonition that tongues without interpretation should be kept to oneself, we are reminded that a distinction should be drawn between personal worship of God and worshiping him in the assembly of the faithful. It is not that I songs are unhelpful or unnecessary, it is simply that we are badly out of balance here, and we need a corrective. Our hymnody must play a part in this. In many cases, a song can be easily adapted for such purposes by changing a few pronouns. Better by far, however, is composing songs with a true vision of the church and rediscovering those great songs that already feature such a vision.

As I recall Barry Maxwell (a former Northbrook pastor) saying, Sunday worship is not the time for us to each come and have our own personal time with God with other people around. It is when the people of God gather together to sing together, pray together, learn together. Our songs need to reflect our corporate relationship to him. Perhaps less “all of You is more than enough for all of me” and more “peace of consicence, peace with God we obtain through Jesus’ blood.”

Don’t take this as a slam on Lifepoint, by the way (Troy, if you’re reading, hey!) They’re still one of our “top two”, even though we have more to visit. The people there are real, the teaching is great, and the worship is still better than about 90% of the churches I’ve ever stepped foot in. At least they’re alive. And perhaps this is only something that bothers me. Most people there seemed to be too busy worshipping to even think about the things I was concerned about, and that may well be a good thing. I do think that corporate worship, though, needs to be reformed along the lines of that CT article, and maybe more. Just some things to think about.

And by the way . . . I love a couple of Fanny Crosby’s hymns.