The Artist and Humility

A friend and I used to joke that when asked in job interviews what our strengths were, we would say ‘My main strength is that I am very humble.’

You can see the irony in this! To say you are very good at being humble seems to prove you are not humble.

But by not wanting to draw attention to humility (fearing that doing so would demonstrate a lack of humility), I wonder if we tend to reflect too little on how we are going at being humble. I wonder if we also miss wonderful opportunities to encourage others who are demonstrating humility.

Crucially, we may also downplay the need to work on being humble. I wonder if instead, we often hope that as we work on other aspects of Christian character – love, kindness, generosity, and so on – humility will just develop in the background.

For the Christian musician, there is considerable work to be done on the spiritual backdrop that sits behind our playing. In fact, this requires more work than the music. We must seek to ensure our hearts and minds are continuing to worship God, and that we are growing in our faith and godliness. Growth in the Christian life requires utter reliance on God but also discipline, focus, and careful attention from us. It’s hard work!

As church musicians – and leaders of our congregations – we are on display. Both our positioning in church services (often on the platform) as well as our task (singing or playing instruments with appropriate expression) can easily lead us to worship ourselves and not God, and to cause others to do the same. The task of pointing others to God through our music is by no means easy. Humility is required – both as a starting point, and as a constant.

We know a humble person when we meet one – but how do we pinpoint exactly what humility is? In his book ‘Humilitas’, John Dickson defines humility as “the noble choice to forgo your status, deploy your resources or use your influence for the good of others before yourself.” (p 24).

We see the ultimate humility in our Lord Jesus, who despite his status, humbled himself to the point of death on a cross. By contrast, we are often self-focused and proud.

So how do we develop humility? Of course, for the Christian, we must dedicate ourselves to reading God’s Word and prayer for greater humility, and seek accountability and encouragement from trusted friends.

But in addition, Dickson suggests some profoundly simple and practical approaches to developing humility (pp 174-183):

1. Recognise the inherent beauty of humility – We are shaped by what we love. If we love humility, we will be shaped by it.
2. Reflect on the lives of the humble – Find humble people in your life and study them.
3. Conduct thought experiments – Imagine yourself in certain scenarios and consider humble courses of action you could take.
4. Act humbly – “develop the humility muscle by exercising it.” (p 178)
5. Invite criticism – Within a culture of thoughtful critique, humility will be fostered.
6. Forget about being humble – “The very first step in the pursuit of humility is to recognize that I am not humble.” (p 183) Humility requires recognising our pride first, and working to reduce that. Humility will be a by-product of that process.

What a wonderful thing it would be for us to encourage a brother or sister in their humility this week, and to prayerfully consider steps we can take to grow in humility ourselves. 

GC

Why the methodists had all the good music

Have you ever noticed how many of the great hymns in the English language were written by non-conformists like Isaac Watts and the Wesleys? These were people who stood apart (sometimes at great personal cost) from the mainline Anglican church of their day. This was a time where uniformity in worship was highly valued above everything. Edward VI and Elizbeth I had both laid down guidelines for worship, insiting on a ‘plain and modest song’. Nothing to flash. Thomas Sternhold supplied a boring but competent translation of the Psalter into English, and this was the basis of worship inside the mainline official Anglian church.¹

Not so for the non-conformists. John Wesley wrote to a friend criticising this style of worship, insisting that Christians should:

“sing praise to God ... with the spirit, and with the understanding also: not in the miserable, scandalous doggerel of Hopkins and Sternhold [i.e. the English Psalter], but in psalms and hymns which are both sense and poetry.”²

He thought the style should be whatever would ‘best raise the soul to God’, and that meant he was not confined to using simple boring arrangements of the Psalms.³

But the reason why Wesley ended up with such a stress on emotion was not accidental. I think it flowed from his theology. The reason why he wanted music to help people in ‘praising [God] lustily and with a good courage’ was so that their hearts could be changed.⁴ I suspect that John Wesley’s Arminianism – his overemphasis on human responsibility while forgetting that only God can soften or harden hearts – set him on this trajectory.

My hunch is, too, that this set much of methodism (and later Pentecostalism) onto this path of emotional music. If you believe that people turning to Jesus is a wholly human decision, not a miracle, then you’re going to do all you can to make sure they make the right decision.

The challenge, then, for those of us who believe that a decision to turn to Christ is both a human choice and a miracle that only God can bring about is to still write incredible songs which move the heart. A belief in divine sovereignty in conversion doesn’t stop us from engaging in apologetics, clear preaching, or trying to live the gospel in an attractive way. So it shouldn’t stop us from having poignant music either.

1 Evans, Music in the Modern Church, 31.

2 John Wesley, ‘To A Friend, On Public Worship’, in The Works of the Rev John Wesley: Tracts and Letters on Various Subjects (1st ed.; New York: J & J Harper, 1827), 233.

3 John Wesley, ‘To A Friend, On Public Worship’, in The Works of the Rev John Wesley: Tracts and Letters on Various Subjects (1st ed.; New York: J & J Harper, 1827), 233.

4 John Wesley, ‘To A Friend, On Public Worship’, in The Works of the Rev John Wesley: Tracts and Letters on Various Subjects (1st ed.; New York: J & J Harper, 1827), 233.

The ends justify the means

 When it comes to music, I’m with Luther: the ends justify the means.

It is interesting to compare the attitude of Calvin, Zwingli and Luther to using secular music styles in church. Calvin (1509–1564) refused to use either catholic styles of music, or the secular styles of his day (which he said were ‘lascivious, injurious, alluring’¹). He was afraid that ‘venom and corruption’ might reach ‘the depths of the heart’.² In a similar vein, Ulrich Zwingli held that ‘spirit and flesh contradict each other’.³ He was dubious about singing, preferring to sing ‘not with our voices, like the Jewish singers, but with our hearts’.⁴ In the summer of 1524 his followers smashed all the organs they could find, hoping to bring things back to pure worship.⁵

So against his reformation buddies, Martin Luther (1483-46) stands out. He was prepared to use any style of music that would help people engage with God: ‘For their sake [simple laymen] we must read, sing, preach, write and compose, and if it would help the matter along, I would have all the bells pealing, and all the organs playing, and let everything chime that has a clapper’.⁶ Rumour has it he used pub tunes – this is not quite right, but he certainly used folk music to drive the gospel messages home. (Incidentally, it is no accident that J.S. Bach composed his amazing Cantatas while working at Leipzig Luthern church). The key values were education, scriptural words, and communion between the church here and the church in heaven. Whatever would serve these goals would be employed in church.

1 Charles Garside, The Origins of Calvin's Theology of Music: 1536–1543 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1979), 28.

2 Paul Westermeyer, Te Deum: The Church and Music (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 156.

3 Paul Westermeyer, Te Deum: The Church and Music (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 151.

4 Ulrich Zwingli, ‘Conclusion 45’ in Charles Garside, Zwingli and the Arts (New Haven: Yale, 1966), 45.

5 Paul Westermeyer, Te Deum: The Church and Music (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 150.

6 Flynn, ‘Liturgical Music’, 780

Unprofessional and proud of it

One of my friends was a (semi)professional comedian. I love his jokes. I saw him on TV once and he had the whole concert hall in stitches. But he could be terrible company sometimes. If, hanging out with friends, you tried to make a joke which didn’t go so well he would respond in mock condescension: ‘oh please Andy, leave it to the professionals’.

In some contexts professionalism is out of place. And my church is one of them.

The push to professionalism in our music has a long history. The middle ages had competing styles of music. On the one hand there was Gregorian chant, which was simple simple simple. This came from (I think) a suspicion of emotion and a desire to strip everything back so that the rational propositions of the Scriptures would be more clear to us.

On the other hand, other styles of music became way complex. Things got so out of control that people often couldn’t tell what language was being sung, and Pope John XXII got concerned that we had lost sight of the purpose of church music.¹

Originally, music had been a communal activity. While Tertullian hints that some songs were performed by good singers,² Ambrose of Milan, John Chrysostom and Basil the Great all give the impression that the focus was communal singing.³ Just prior to the reformation, this priority to the communal was in danger of being obscured. In the style of music called ‘Lector chant’ the crowd would merely sing the occasional ‘alelluia’. In the style called ‘Schola chant’ trained clergy would do it all. The average punters could not pull off the quality of music that was desired, and so they left it to the professionals.

I don’t dispute that the quality of music is important in church. I am not even against paying professional musicians to be involved in services, where the size and strategy of the church demands it. But whatever we do, I think the purpose of singing should remain firmly in our view. Employing professional musicians may help people to sing better in a large auditorium, because the pressures of performing in such a large space require a level of skill or commitment which is beyond most volunteers. It is no different, in my mind, to employing a full time minister to prepare sermons. But if the pursuit of professionalism actually disenfranchises the average people the pews so they don’t sing any more, then I think we have a problem. We don’t want to leave it to the professionals.

1 Evans, Music in the Modern Church, 27.

2 Flynn, ‘Liturgical Music’, 770.

3 John Chrysostom, ‘On Psalm 145’ at para 1469; Ambrose of Milan ‘Commentaries on the Twelve Psalms of David’ at para 1158; Basil the Great, ‘Homily on Psalm 1’ at para 1346, in Johnson, Worship in the Early Church: Anthology of Historical Sources.

The artist and their life's work

As artists, we love art. We love going to concerts, exhibitions, reading books, listening to music. Having created our own art, we are aware of the thought processes and techniques that often lie behind art created by others - so we are equipped with analytical tools that allow us to carefully critique and experience art in great depth. We love immersing ourselves in the creative realm of life.

Then there is the art we create. When you are in the middle of creating, the energy is flowing, the momentum is building, and you know something great is lying just over the horizon, the feeling is amazing. It is truly enjoyable. It's exciting. It brings a thrill and a natural high like nothing else. And it often brings those who are creating together in a truly unique way. Seeing the piece of art finally completed is the ultimate reward - and seeing it being appreciated by others is an added bonus. Over the course of our lives, we long to create a body of work - our 'life's work' - that will say something about us, and capture the imagination of others.

Of course, art and creating can be all-consuming. Art often engages our senses in a way that other things in life don't. It can seem like our whole being is being channelled into experiencing or creating that piece of art. It's often that very focus and attention to the smallest of details that makes experiencing art so enjoyable, and creating art so rewarding.

But the thing is, art can take over. The pursuit of excellence in creating can fill every little gap in our minds so that there is no room left for other things. Even the pursuit of experiencing art can do the same - we go to so many concerts, read so many books, listen to so many albums, that we have no headspace left for other things. Relationships slip down the list of priorities. Bible reading and prayer time suffers.

Without realising it, by sheer virtue of the amount of time and headspace we dedicate to art, we find ourselves worshipping creation, and not the Creator. We would not go so far as to deny God - we still deeply desire to follow him and serve him. It's just that by filling our minds with so much other stuff, we have, in reality, neglected him.

In 'Art and the Bible', Francis Schaeffer challenges us to think differently. He writes: "... there is a very real sense in which the Christian life itself should be our greatest work of art. Even for the great artist, the most crucial work of art is his life." (p49).

And of course our lives are to be viewed not just as a work of art, but as an act of worship. As the Apostle Paul writes - we are to offer our bodies as "living sacrifices" to God as our "spiritual act of worship" (Romans 12:1).

Certainly, art and creating are wonderful gifts from God, the one true Creator. Seeking to create a body of artwork throughout our life is a great thing. But what will we prioritise each day? Will we prioritise creating our 'life's work' in art? Or will we humbly acknowledge that as we seek to follow Jesus, our 'life's work' should quite literally be a lifetime of work on our life itself? Will our life's work - work that says something about who we worship, who we are, and captures the imagination of others -  actually be our life itself?

GC

The Artist and The Struggle

If you have ever created a piece of art - be it a painting, a piece of music, a written work - you will know that it takes work. Lots of work. Occasionally pieces of art may be fuelled by flashes of inspiration and almost complete themselves... but then there is the finishing of the work, the touching up, the refining, and so on.

If you then go on to create more and more works of art, you will know that the work load increases substantially, that it almost seems to get harder and harder the longer you work as an artist. Sure, you are getting better and better at your craft, but for that very reason you are raising the standard of what you expect of yourself, and others are raising the standard of what they expect of you. And then there is the challenge to innovate, to produce something different to what you've done before.

What's more, art by its very nature is seeking to make a statement, and that often attracts criticism, criticism that hurts... And yet there is something inside of us that knows we have to create - we are continually drawn back to creating. This is not a mere coincidence - God has gifted us with creative skills and abilities and it is a wonderful thing to be using them for him.

Although we may not think of it this way, we are creating works of art each time we prepare music for church. Someone else may have written the hymn or song, but we are creating through interpreting the music in our arrangements and playing.

The thing is, creating is hard work. Amongst the busyness of life, it's a struggle to find space for a rehearsal - in both your calendar and in your mind. Then you need to make sure all your musical equipment is in order. Then there are the slight frustrations you may have with the playing styles of other band members  - they play slightly differently to the way you do, so the sound isn't gelling. And then you realise you need some new musical equipment before Sunday, so you have to find time to get to the music store. Then you need to find time to practice yourself before the service. And after a long day at work, it's hard to be disciplined and remove distraction, in addition to spending good time loving and caring for your family. And then after all that, you play music at church that Sunday, thinking it went really well and that it was a huge achievement to have overcome all the challenges in the week. And then you receive some unpleasant feedback on how it sounded. Then you brace yourself to do it all again next week. Sometimes it all just seems too hard.

In his book Art and the Bible, Francis Schaeffer challenges us refocus and remember why it is we are creating. As Schaeffer writes: "[t]he man who really loves God, who is working under the lordship of Christ, could write his poetry, compose his music, construct his musical instruments, fashion his statues, paint his pictures, even if no man ever saw them. He knows God looks upon them." (pp 37-8)

When the work in creating seems hard, and the comments from others about our art seem too disheartening to take, we can pause, take a deep breath, and know that our sovereign God (ever-present and all-knowing) has heard and seen our art - art that has come from the abilities he has graciously given us. And that alone is more than enough reason to make the struggle worth the struggle.

GC

Fix the attitude not the altitude

A dear friend asked me today whether I could put together some thoughts on positioning the band off the stage (lowering the altitude) in order to stop people giving them too much attention.  

I’m aware that at many churches there has been a push to shove the band off stage – out of sight, out of the limelight, thus reminding the crowd (and, I suspect more pointedly) the musicians that it’s not about them. I think this comes from a beautiful desire for equality in the gathering – not wanting to exalt guitar playing members of the band above punters in the pews. In my time as a church musician I’ve been moved to the side of stage, moved to the back of the stage, moved behind the stage, moved below the stage, moved to the side of the crowd, and (even!) moved to the back of the auditorium. ‘It’s not a rock concert!’ was the rationale. Sure. I guess that’s true.

I’ve always dutifully complied with these requests from those over me in the Lord, and if you’re a musician and you’re told to go, and you can’t gently persuade your leaders otherwise, then there is no question: you should go. However I think the idea is practically and pastorally misguided, for a couple of reasons.

Pastoral Reasons:

First, out of sight means the band is unable to lead the congregation effectively. I’ve never heard anyone suggest that the preacher should preach from behind the crowd, for the simple reason that people look to the people up front for leadership and communication, something which is hard to do without the possibility of eye contact. It’s no different in music – through body language, verbal cues, attitude, and movement every member of the band who stands up front is a leader. The choices are lead well or lead badly; not leading is not an option.

Paul encourages the Corinthians to imitate him, and to learn from him via Timothy of his good way of life. (1 Cor 4:16-17). Therefore if you love your church then put good role models on stage!

Second, if the attitude of the musicians is a problem (i.e. if they really are getting a big head because they’re up the front) then you should address their attitude. Spend the time actually pastoring your musicians, rather than trying to train them like you would a puppy (‘outside! Outside!’). If they are egotistical maniacs, then you’ll need more than a stage layout to fix that. You don’t solve the problem of an egotistical preacher, bible reader or prayer by making them preach in funny positions. If leading singing is a word ministry (and I hope our message is getting through on this...it is!) then Godly character should be a pre-requisite for service.

(But it’s worth adding that in my experience musicians are rarely the egotistical stage-hogging maniacs that non-musicians project onto them – more often I find they are perfectionistic, sensitive, depressive personality types, who are easily wounded by criticism and tragically often have a low sense of self worth. But you don’t know that unless you actually bother to know them and care for them as people.)

If after getting to know your musicians you're still worried about their vainglory, then (rather than trying to make an upfront job into a behind the scenes job), why not give them a truly behind the scenes job (like cleaning, filing music, doing sound, etc)?

Practical reasons:

Third, messing about with stage layout creates a challenging musical environment which is beyond most of us. Teaching musicians to communicate with each other through eye contact and signals is hard enough without shoving them all into awkward positions. A number of times in church band training we’ve helped the rhythm section lock in more tightly simply by fixing their positioning on stage, only to be told that when Sunday comes they’ll have to go back to square one.

Fourth, messing about with stage layout is a disaster for acoustics. Unless you have a state of the art foldback system and you’re playing in a football stadium, chances are most of the sound is being generated by acoustic instruments and on-stage amps, with reinforcement from the PA for the vocals and piano and acoustic guitar. Strewn all over the room, the sound is coming from multiple sources, with uneven balance, making it impossible to create a good mix for the crowd. You might as well give up trying to teach musicians to manage their on stage volume to create a good stage sound, because you’ve made the stage environment so unnecessarily complicated. 

So please if you think you have an attitude problem in your crowd, or (worse) in your band, leave the altitude alone - and focus on the attitude. Good leading, from a humble heart, in full view of everyone will build up your church far more than bad leading, from a proud heart, somewhere to the side of stage. But whatever you do, whether in full view or out of sight, do it all for the glory of God (1Cor 10:31).

Worship: Like running a cold bath

Okay, work with me here on this analogy. I recently got my bath fixed which is great news for everybody. I'm reminded that there's an art to running a bath - not too hot, not too cold. The temptation when you realise that the bath is going to be too cold is to slam on the hot water, but of course that just makes the opposite problem. Getting the optimal temperature requires small adjustments, not over-reactions.

By analogy, it seems that improving worship music is an exercise in balance. Usually when something goes wrong in church, it's not that people have set out trying to be destructive. It's usually that we were trying to improve in another area, and just got things out of balance. Perhaps we wanted to bring in new songs to keep our repertoire from being stale, but brought in too many too quickly and now people can't sing along. Perhaps we wanted to raise the quality of our music to the Glory of God. But instead we put too heavy a load on our already busy musicians. It's all about balance. 

But so often when we realise something is wrong, we express it in terms of absolute criticisms, not relative criticisms.

Karl Barth, one of my favourite German theologians, writes about this in relation to the subjective/objective question in worship. He describes how people responded to the overly subjective wishy washy hymns which started dominating in some protestant circles in the 17th century. They criticised 'I-hymns' as being overly subjective, and insisted on 'we-hymns' or 'he-hymns'. They made absolute their criticism. But as Barth writes 'it is obvious from the presence of the I-Psalms in the Bible...[that this] can only be a relative and not an absolute criticism. It cannot try to eliminate or suppress altogether either the I-hymns or the I-piety' (Church Dogmatics, IV.63.I p755). You can't eliminate 'I' from our worship, because the wonder of the gospel is that what God did he did for me.

I think there are many areas of contemporary thinking about church life that need us to be more relative and less absolute - in many areas it's a question of balance, not blanket statements.

So the challenge (for me) is to try to approach disagreements about how to do church music as if we're running a bath. If I think that a church service is getting too cold, before turning off the tap completely I need to ask whether the way I intend on going is going to get too hot if we're not careful. This helps too when taking criticism - normally when someone raises a criticism they are not just being nasty - there is so longing or desire behind their complaint. If they hate contemporary music, then what is it about hymns that they love - perhaps I can learn to share their love as well, and we can run a more balanced bath?