On Worship Singing
Modern worship (the singing kind) really bugs me. I can hardly explain how much it bugs me. If you've ever sat beside me in a worship service you'd notice that I don't sing. Maybe I read my Bible, maybe I just look around. But I won't sing.
It's not because I don't like music. I love music - everyone in my family plays at least one instrument, myself included, and I've got 2 close relatives who are professional musicians. And the quality of worship music these days could hardly be better - we've got 4-part harmony, brass quartets and jazzy choirs all over the place. No, the music is good.
There's basically two main reasons why I can't stand today's worship. There's more, but I'll keep it simple. I'll expand on each of them straight aways, then I'll tell you why I started feeling this way, and then (if you're really good) I'll tell you a secret. Ready? Here goes: The first reason is the lyrics, the second is the emotionalism. Now for the unpacking.
1. The lyrics piss me off. What kind of crap are we trying to pull? Steve Bell was absolutely right, there is such a lack of genuine theological accuracy in our songs. Some of them sound like they were written for your boyfriend or girlfriend. Some are wildly out of sync with scripture, or at least have extremely problematic wording.
Take Days of Elijah for instance. If there was ever a song that sent me into a quivering rage, this is it. It sounds like someone gathered up all the nice-sounding verses in the Bible and plunked them down all in one happy, confusing mess. It doesn't even make any sense. And if 20 christians in North America singing that song have experienced the stuff in it - "famine and darkness and sword" for instance - I will eat a pair of Dennis Rodman's gym shorts. Used ones. Maybe with some pasta sauce or some catsup. Or another instance that John Mortensen describes:
A minor rhyming disaster may be observed at the close of the song My Lord, What Sacrifice where the lyricist needed something to rhyme with “You took the fall” (never mind the bizarre metaphor of faking defeat in a boxing match) and chose "You thought of me above all”. Not only does the final line sound limp and contrived, but it commits a theological misstep: Christ thought of Me above all? Really? Above doing the Father’s will and defeating powers of evil and the immediate sensation of pain? Begging your pardon: the only person who thinks of Me above all is Me.
I'm sure we can all think of similar lyrical slip-ups made in the name of mushy love or rythmic constraints, but come on folks! If there's anything we should be trying extra special hard to keep from losing anything in the translation to song it's the Gospel!
2. The emotionalism really pisses me off. I don't even know where to start. Typically, the thing that irks me the most is that generally the whole show is about getting people to"experience God." We talk about what a great worship service it was, how we really felt God "move," or (in some cases) how we didn't feel anything and it must be the worship team's fault. We sing songs about how wonderful we feel, and if we don't feel wonderful we "sing it 'till we mean it." We've got our hands in the air and we're saying "yes lord" and "oh Jesus" at all the right times, as indicated by Worship Leader Barbie.
I know that people may be very genuine in their feelings, but the plain and simple fact is this: emotions are very easy to tamper with. I've taken training as a couselor and a psychologist, and I'm well aware of the ins and outs of tricking someone else's mind into doing what you want. It's very hard to sing along when you recognize that the worship leader is trying to pull on your strings to make you dance the way they want. It's really unnerving when you know what they're doing. I've learned that human emotions are fickle and not to be trusted, and that if you go into a situation expecting an experience of a particular kind you'll typically get it, one way or another.
Why do I feel this way? I'm glad you asked. I've had a very rough time of it when it comes to worship. I had a couple charismatic friends after I got saved in my mid teens, and I often went to services with them. They taught me how to worship, how to do all the right things that made God give you the good feelings. They taught me that if I didn't feel anything, then either I was doing it wrong or I had something wrong with me.
I can't tell you how many tearful recommitments I made to God night after night, trying desperately to make the same emotional connection I saw them making. I even faked it for a while, and they rejoiced with me. I did this for three years. Then I started to notice; their mystical connection with God certainly didn't seem to do them much good. They still complained about the worship band, they still spread rumors about others in the group, they still treated those different from them like dirt. There was hypocrisy and all manner of unsavoury things going on.
So I was forced to conclude that the experiences themselves were either a) fake or b) not powerful enough to effect any change in their lives. The second option seemed silly - how could encountering God in such a powerful way as they seemed to on a regular basis not have any effect? That left one option - they were fake - and this filled me with both relief and disappointment.
I've maybe had 2 genuine worship experiences since then. It's been about 5 years, and I've had no indication that I was wrong in my conclusions. I'm not going to judge anyone who chooses to worship God through singing - I'm sure that many are perfectly sincere, and if it makes them more like Christ then hey, why not? I also had some good friends in Jon With no H, Tyler the Charismatic Calvinist and Boon the Trucker, both of whom were immeasurable help in keeping me "in the fold," so to speak, despite the bitterness that threatened to overwhelm me. I'll admit, it's a wound that never fully closed.
But hey, worship really isn't about feelings or singing, is it? After all, Jesus says several times, "I desire mercy not sacrifice," and God himself indicates throughout the Bible that true worship is an attitude, a lifestyle, reflected in our actions towards others. True worship is a life dedicated to God, lived out in Spirit and in Truth, actively choosing to love God with all our hearts, mind and strength and loving our neighbors as ourselves. An I think that beats singing all hollow.
So. Do you want to hear the secret? Well I'll tell you. There's a stoplight that I usually have to stop at on my way home from work. The stoplight is right by a big church. I think it's an evangelical church of some kind, I've never actually checked. This church has a big, well-lit sign outside, usually with a catchy/corny phrase that makes me chuckle or roll my eyes. But that's not the secret.
Once a week when I'm driving home at night I drive past this church, and its parking lot is full. There's a sign out front that says "Wednesday Night Praise and Worship Service." I've never been inside, I have no idea who they are. I look in the windows as I sit at the red light and I see a congregation raising their hands to the roof. It feels a little voyeuristic. But that's not the secret.
The secret is that, sometimes, I want to pull the car over, get out, and go inside. I'll stand in the middle of them, I'll raise my hands and close my eyes and sing, sing as loud as I can and with all of my heart. I'll sing and laugh and cry until all the pent up feelings inside me are spent.
Then the light changes, and I shake myself out of it, and I remind myself that I'm better than that, that I don't give in to silly emotionalism, that I'm not as weak or foolish as they probably are. I press the accelerator and keep driving, but slower this time. I can hardly see the road through my tears.
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