Is Christian music too predictable?

I'm preparing for a talk on music and theology (not particularly on Christian music, mind you, but on music in general and its place in creation). This very interesting quote from theologian Jeremy Begbie came up:

Christian Contemporary Music (CCM) is an enormous industry, and some would argue that it has succumbed in an alarming way to the co-opting of religion into the commercial interests of consumption, capitalism, and materialism.... It is disappointing, for example, to find an intense musical conservatism in much of the contemporary worship scene. (Resounding Truth, 256)

He admits that simplicity and accessibility is part of the point of church music, but goes on to issue a challenge:

Is the church prepared to give its musicians room to experiment (and fail), to juxtapose different styles, to educate themselves in music history, to resist the tendency to rely on formulas that "work" with minimum effort and can quickly guarantee seats filled in church -- and all this in order that congregational worship can become more theologically responsible, more true to teh God who has given us such abundant potential for developing fresh musical sounds? (Resounding Truth, 256)

Are we too conservative in pushing the boundaries of musical creativity? Or are we simply doing the right thing of serving the church where they're at (not getting stuck up our own guitarsenal developing music which is so complicated and foreign that your average pew-sitter cannot understand what's happening let alone join in)?

Making church boring is emotional manipulation

Chris Green has been giving the Annual Moore College lectures this year. In his talk today on preaching he pointed out that there are two ways of being emotionally manipulative.

The first is to whip people up into a frenzy, which is not motivated by the gospel but by the sheer emotional experience of the event.

But another group of people are guilty of manipulation in a different way. Chris recalls church experiences where a hugely powerful song has concluded and the service leader has failed to even note the emotional response which it has produced, saying "well done...and now the notices". This is deliberately quenching the emotional impact of the gospel, trying to make sure people don't respond as they would otherwise. It is manipulation.

I haven't thought about it this way before, but I think he's right.

I would go so far as to say that to deliberately try to pour cold water on people's whole-person-ed response to the power of God's word is manipulative.

Some examples of this kind of manipulation are
1. Choosing songs which are so bad that they take our attention away (if it were possible) from God's grace to us in Jesus Christ.

2. Planning services with no space for our response, so that no sooner have we surveyed the wondrous cross than some joker gets up and turns our attention to the location for the church picnic.

3. Being so casual that we are tempted to irreverence.

4. Being so focused on mutual edification that we conduct our entire service as if God were absent, and nobody thinks to actually do business with God.

5. Creating rules, or a culture, where common ways of responding to the emotional power of the gospel is discouraged (such as 'no raising hands in church').

Any others you can think of?

Only people who are skillful should serve

Here is a radical proposition for you: only people who are skilful should serve in music ministry.

I know it sounds a bit harsh. But I have a proof-text for it ... 1 Chronicles 15:22 has become my new memory verse:

Kenaniah the head Levite was in charge of the singing; that was his responsibility because he was skillful at it. (NIV)

Seems to make sense to me.

Now it's a little bit of a fudge, I know. For starters I don't believe in proof texting like this (we need to look at a theology of music and a theology of church and the gathering). And the NIV is rendering the Hebrew 'to understand' as 'Skilful at' which is fair enough in the context but other versions bring the point out slightly differently (The NRSV lowers the bar a little: "Chenaniah, leader of the Levites in music, was to direct the music, for he understood it." )

However I think we sometimes are too keen to include everybody in serving in the music team. Should someone who is tone deaf be 'allowed' to lead the singing? Well, no, not necessarily.

It might be a good idea to let them, for a range of political and pastoral reasons. Each church needs to work out what level of skill is required for the task at hand. My church may not need the same skilful musicians as a church of 20,000 people broadcast all over the world.

But I don't think we need to see a theological mandate for participation in the church music team by anyone and everyone who wants to 'use their gift'.

There IS a theological reason why everybody should SING together. But to think this means every singer should have a microphone is a confusion. It treats the band as the church, and puts a false wall between the band and the church (as if you are only participating if you are in the band). They are all participating as the one body of Christ (Gal 3:28) even if they don't have a microphone. We are all one, a body of believers without division, and yet we are also differentiated (1 Cor 12:29). 

So let those who are skilful at music (or at least 'understand' it!) lead the rest of us in singing joyfully to our God.

Music brings us closer to God?

There is a fascinating piece in the July edition of Eternity Magazine (an Australian church paper). The question is: 'Can music bring us closer to God'. Two songwriters who I respect immensely, Rob Smith and Ben Fielding answer differently.

On the side of "No and Yes" is the typically measured and balanced Rob Smith, a lecturer at Sydney Missionary and Bible College.  He points out that only Jesus can bring us closer to God: 'if as a resul tof the Holy Spirit's work in us we have come to put our faith in Christ, then we have already come to God and cannot come any closer in this age'. He draws our attention to Rom 5:1-2, 1Pet 3:18, Heb 12:22-24, Eph 2:13 and Eph 3:11-12. The once for all sacrifice made by Jesus when he sacrificed his own body for us is not to be repeated. On the other hand, once we have experienced this incredible grace, we are freed to continually 'draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water (Heb 10:21-22). To the extent that our singing involves the word of Christ dwelling in us richly (Col 3:16), we find a means of being filled by the Spirit with the fullness of God. He uses the analogy of a married couple having dinner together - it doesn't make them married, but does bring them closer.

Ben Fielding is a songwriter and worship pastor at Hillsong Church in Sydney. In the past I have had the benefit of Ben's generosity in sharing his insights on songwriting with a group of church music directors, and I was hugely impressed by his concern for good teaching through music. He takes a different angle to Rob. While Rob starts with the atonement and works backwards, Ben starts with creation and works forward through redemption to show how God uses creation, and music in particular, to draw people to himself in repentance and faith: 'God does use music to draw people unto Himself, to tell His story and beckon repentance.' He is talking, first, about music in general not just church music. It's a rich place to begin a theology of music. Yet he is working towards the same point as Rob - the two meet in the middle, at the Cross of Jesus:

Though music can be a wonderful, spiritual and powerful expression of God-given creativity, its importance must be held in the perspective of Jesus. It is Jesus who overcomes sin and makes a way to the Father. Nothing takes the place of Jesus - not the apostles, not the prophets, and not music. However, they are not in competition. Through Jesus we can boldly enter God's presence with worship and singing.

Music, then, can be a means by which the 'character of our faithful God' is declared. 'We should concern ourselves with presenting biblical truth that necessarily points towards Jesus.' The emotional expreiene of music should not, according to Fielding, be confused with the presence of God. It is the work of the Spirit that brings about repentance and change. 'Music enables us to turn to the Lord in agreement with one another as we sing the same words and melodies, powerfully depicting the unity that is taking place.' Music is used 'by God to draw us closer' - closer, he means, in the sense of drawing our gaze to the cross of Christ.

What a fascinating study in two able songwriters from different traditions arriving at the Cross together. 

Arts used for Theology

Jeremy Begbie is a very interesting theologian - a serious piano player before the decided to be a theologian, he has thought quite a bit about music and theology from two angles. The first is what Theology can do for the arts (helping us to understand the place of the arts, in his case music, in creation). He calls this 'theology for the arts'. But the other aspect is what the arts can do for theology, helping us to understand theological things through our experience of creativity. He calls this 'arts for theology'.
Here is a wonderful little video where he demonstrates some of the main contributions that music can make in helping us to think about God and life.

Some of his great observations (demonstrated by some quite nice playing):

• The most wonderful music can come out of the most unlikely things. Variations by Rachmaninoff on Paginini's theme. Inverting the theme, making it major not minor. Something beautiful can be made out of something angular and cranky.
• Even the worst can be woven into God's purposes. Once you've made the mistake - there are 88 keys on the piano but no delete key. You can turn it into a passing note, a note that doesn't fit with the underlying harmony but can be made to fit the context. He says: 'God can take your worst mistakes and turn them into his passing notes. I think every leader needs to recognise that.'
• There is a type of non-order which is not destructive. Many of us think that the only two options in our lives are order and disorder', but there is also non-order. The jazz factor.
• The connection between tradition and innovation: Every player has to be apprenticed into a tradition before you can innovate. 'Improvisation is the exploration of occasion' - having in mind these people, on this occasion, and not some other. 
• The role of the Holy Spirit: For Begbie all this links up quite nicely with the doctrine of the holy Spirit. The Spirit's role seems to be bringing the great truths of Christ to bear on these people in this place and this time.

You should go to theological college

Musicians and Songwriters: you should go to theological college

A friend of mine just spent a few weeks in Nashville, hanging out with some incredible musicians and songwriters. It's a hub of creativity and musicality - an electric environment to be in, even for only a few weeks. I spoke to him last night and he was totally inspired - full of new ideas, and ready to write a thousand new songs.

I'm in my final year of theological college, hanging out with some incredibly prayerful and Godly theologians, pastors and teachers. I am totally inspired - full of new ideas, and ready to write a thousand new songs (and sermons for church!)

Now, you don't have to go to theological college to write great Christian songs, or for that matter preach great sermons. Nor do you have to travel to Nashville to be inspired and equipped to make great music.

But if someone offered you a trip to Nashville, you'd be mad to turn it down. Right?

Well, here's my pitch, take it or leave it - if you ever have the opportunity to study theology full time, go for it. Find the most Godly, the most intelligent, the most broad thinking group of teachers and students you can find, and enrol yourself in the most academically and spiritually rigorous  course* you can make time for.

For me, my time at theological college (Sydney's Moore College) has been a time of profound spiritual growth, as well as being the most intellectually stimulating environment I've ever experienced.

I would love to see more musicians and music directors and songwriters soaking up a theological education. I stress, you don't need a degree in theology to be a great bible teacher, or a great songwriter, or a great music pastor – but it almost certainly will enrich and inspire your ability to understand God's word and communicate it to others. At least it has for me.


So if you ever get the opportunity - please, go for it!

(*Now, you might wonder why the whole bother of a full on theological education. It seems like a lot of effort (often these go for one, two, three, even four years full time). There are shorter courses which are more practical and less academic - you can learn what Ephesians say, and take a course in songwriting or preaching or planning a good service. All these are good things. But it's like the difference between studying engineering and taking a course in fixing cars... I know from experience that engineers aren't necessarily any good at changing tyres, but if you want to design the next generation of cars you're going to need a deep grasp of engineering. Likewise a short course can teach you how to write songs like Chris Tomlin; a long one will equip you for a lifetime of Godly thinking outside the current paradigm.)

What I love about Darlene Zschech's theology

I’ve never met her, but I have a huge amount of respect for Darlene Zschech. Until 2007 she was a pastor at Hillsong church here in Sydney. She still tours and leads a growing church in Newcastle. Leaving aside the obvious debt we all owe her for bringing worship music to where it has come worldwide, her discipleship and church leadership off stage has benefited some of my dearest friends.

At the same time, I believe it’s often fruitful to compare and contrast our respective theological positions on worship. Our respective traditions may have much to learn from each other. Realising that I don’t have all the answers either, in this brief blog post I also want to provide some friendly critique of her theology of worship as presented in Extravagant Worship.

There is much I love in her theology of worship.

1. Zschech is dead right in pointing out that worship is bigger than merely music. Worship is bigger than music. “Although music is a wonderful expression of worship, it is not in itself the essence of it. The core of worship is when one’s heart and soul, and all that is within, adores and connects with the Spirit of God.”¹
2. She is right to make Christian education a central goal in our music ministry: ‘make the Word memorable and settle the message into our hearts.’²
3. She presents a balanced view of the place of emotional response in music ministry: music is ‘not about stirring ourselves into an emotional frenzy’, but ‘corporate worship’ should help turn the congregation’s ‘eyes to the Lord.’³

Yet, I do want to suggest some possible tensions in her theology of worship which make me reluctant to adopt it wholesale without thinking it over some more. The biggest tension I detect is over the issue of ‘excellence’.

Zschech rightly puts great emphasis on excellence, something which I have often written about and agree on. Yet I’m more cautious about the reasons she gives for seeking excellence: ‘We are to serve God with excellence because we know an excellent God.’⁴ Like the high medievalists, Zschech wants to ‘enter the throne room of God’.⁵

Largely I think this theology is reactive against more mainline traditions (such as Anglicanism), which have been (I’ll freely admit) too afraid of excellence. She thinks this fear has ‘kept almost an entire generation out of the house of God’.⁶

And to her credit, this emphasis on excellence is qualified: we give our finest ‘at whatever stage your finest is.’⁷ We bring our gifts in a context of grace, and Zschech is too experienced a pastor to seek to establish a ‘performance-based Christianity’ on or off the stage.⁸

However I do take issue with some of the arguments she uses to bolster this argument of excellence. “Extravagant worship grabs God’s attention ... Throughout the stories in the Bible, whenever someone demonstrated extravagant worship, God reacted with extravagant blessing. It’s cause and effect. Extravagant worship brings extravagant results.’⁹

My nervousness about this is that I am very unexcellent! I’m not talking about the quality of music, even. The fact is that the excellence of our offerings, as God measures it, is entirely dependent on the heart. As Hebrews 10 points out, God has never been pleased by sacrifices or burnt offerings. Zschech obviously knows this, and so concludes that ‘the only thing God wants from you is your heart.’¹⁰

I don’t think I’m being too nitpicking to say that there is a tension here. Is God impressed by musical excellence, or does he just want us to serve with the right attitude?

What is missing, I think, is a bridge between the Old Testament passages and the New Testament hope. In the Old Testament even our most righteous works are considered as dirty rags (Isaiah 64:6). In the New Testament, we are given the incredible invitation to continually ‘through Jesus … offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that confess his name’ (Hebrews 13:15). What is missing from Zschech’s worship theology, therefore, is the very important concept of a priest: not one who wears robes, but Jesus our great high priest. With Jesus standing as our representative before God, the excellence of our worship is guaranteed.

As much as it pains me to say it, therefore, the excellence (in a musical sense) of our worship, and the strength of our good intentions, becomes much less relevant to how acceptable our worship is. Don’t get me wrong, I want excellent music as much as the next music snob. But I’m not sure that we want to tie that excellence to its suitability for worshipping God.

1 Darlene Zschech, Extravagant Worship (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 2002)., 27.

2 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 196.

3 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 169.

4 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 127.

5 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 155.

6 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 128.

7 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 127.

8 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 148.

9 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 34-35.

10 Zschech, Extravagant Worship, 46.

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 song matters more than the words

Words don't just mean things, they do things!

Hypothetical scenario: you're leading singing at church and you need one more song than expected. You have two choices. One song has only a few basic lines about God's love, but it's sure to get people singing passionately. Another has five verses of theological firepower, but the melody is so daggy nobody can sing it with a straight face.

Gut reaction - which do you choose?

To help you decide, I want to suggest here that the propositional content of songs (what the words mean when you add them all together) is not the be-all-and-end-all of a song (because it is not the be-all-and-end-all of Scripture, or indeed any act of communication).

Of course, my title is deliberately provocative. (Made you look!) I’m not for a moment suggesting that the lyrical content is unimportant. I’m not asking for heretical songs, I’m not asking for vacuous songs. This is my tenth year of training and blogging and trying to get people to pay more attention to music ministry as a Word ministry.

But in doing so I also want us to avoid a reductive approach to words, and avoid divorcing words from music in a song. Here are my two points:

1. Words don’t just mean things, they also do things. They can do lots of different things. And I’m disturbed when I hear people assume that song lyrics can be reduced merely to true statements with a melody attached.
2. A song is not just words put to music, it is a new creation which is more than the sum of its parts.

Words do stuff

A youth group leader complains about a line which says ‘I will say blessed be the name of the Lord’ because she’s not sure whether that is a true statement about a future action he will in fact undertake.

A songleader changes the words of a popular song because it says ‘I’m dancing on this mountain top’ and he’s not sure that everyone in the church is, actually, dancing and even if they were the church is in a valley so mountain top dancing is probably inaccurate.

The problem with these examples is they treat words as if they can do only one thing. They either report a true fact, or a false one. But words can do other things, like encourage people to a future act, or bring a picture to mind which inspires a certain response.

This is a theological observation, not just something that applies to songs. It applies to the Bible. Kevin Vanhoozer is a brilliant evangelical writing on the issue of how to interpret the bible. His best observation is that communication is an action. God is speaking. He does thing with words. And he does different things with different words.

‘Because God does many things with words, our responses too will be varied: we must affirm the doctrine, obey the law, hold fast in hope to the promises, rejoice in the gospel.’ (Kevin J. Vanhoozer, First Theology: God, Scriptures and Hermeneutics (Downers Grove: Intervarsity, 2002), 39)

‘Do not steal’ is not true or false, it’s a command to be obeyed or disobeyed. ‘Do not take your Holy Spirit from me’ is not a comment on the perseverance of the Saints, it’s a prayer to be prayed. ‘Sing unto the Lord a New Song’ is not a command, it’s an invitation to sing with our eyes set on him.

Songs are more than the sum of their parts

 A  songwriter feels that there are not enough songs on the seriousness of judgment (which is true), so puts the phrase “everyone one of us deserves to die” (which is also true) to a boppy tune with large major chords and exciting off beat rhythm.

A youth minister rewrites the words to a well known song about sexual healing to make it teach profound truths about ‘spiritual healing’

The problem is with both examples that what the words might mean in a different context is totally being undermined by a mismatch with what the music means.

The lyricist of the classic song ‘Over the Rainbow’ (picture Judy Garland singing in the opening scenes of Wizard of Oz!)‘ puts it like this:

“Words make you think. Music makes you feel. A song makes you feel a thought.” (E. Yip Harburg)

Here I go... out on a limb

Our songs are meant to do something. They are not simply meant to be true words.

So what was my gut reaction to our big decision - simple truths joyfully sung, or theological firepower which nobody can standing singing?

Of course if songwriters are doing their jobs then you'll never have to choose between great lyrics and a great song. But hypothetically, I’d go for (I think I’m happy to say this … I know it’s going to irritate some people!) a song which joyfully inspires a congregation to sing a few simple truths about God together (‘Jesus loves me this I know...’) than a song which puts four volumes of the Church Dogmatics to to the tune of ‘Yankee Doodle’. There, I said it. Am I wrong? (Or am I just trying to make you think).

Please manipulate my emotions

There is a great deal of suspicion of emotional manipulation. Sometimes I think that suspicion is justified. A friend told me a story about a church where the keyboard was hooked up to an electric shock machine, and just at the right moment the keyboard player would hit the button and people in the front row would be brought to their knees by the ‘electrifying’ power of the sermon.

But sometimes I wonder whether we are oversensitive to the power of music on our emotions, as if being moved emotionally by a song is less ‘worthy’ of us than to be moved intellectually by a sermon.

Consider the tension felt by the great father of the faith, Augustine. His conversion story was marked by an emotional musical encounter:

“I wept at your [God’s] hymns and canticles, deeply moved by the voices of your sweetly singing church. Those voices flowed into my ears, and the truth was poured out in my heart, whence a feeling of piety surged up and my tears ran down. And these things were good for me.”¹

Yet at the same time, the Platonism which Augustine’s culture had subscribed to made him suspicious of such animal attraction merely based on music:

“the gratification of my flesh – to which I ought not to surrender my mind to be enervated – frequently leads my astray ... when it happens to me that the song moves me more than the thing which is sung, I confess that I have sinned blamefully and then prefer not to hear the singer.²

For similar reasons, another thinker, Athanasius, decided that it would be better not to sing at all. For him it was important that the Psalms were recited not ‘from a desire for pleasing sound’, but as a more spiritual ‘manifestation of harmony among the thoughts of the soul’.³ Augustine, to his credit, didn’t go that far. But he did look down on the role of music, saying it merely enabled a ‘weaker soul’ to ‘be elevated to an attitude of devotion’.⁴

But I don’t think it is an admission of weakness in our soul to recognise that we are embodied: our thoughts and actions are influenced by what we eat, whether we have slept enough recently, and whether our brain chemicals are balanced. To recognise that music can have a non-rational effect on our souls is simply to recognise that we are human. Rather than be afraid of any emotional effect, we should seek out music which draws us closer to God and honours Jesus. Provided there is no deception, and the emotional power of the music is anchored in the truth, and we aren’t trying to substitute for the Spirit’s work in changing hearts, I can’t see the danger. If ‘manipulation’ means simply helping me to feel the weight of Jesus’ glory then please, go ahead: some days I could do with a bit of musical manipulation.

1 Augustine, Confessiones IX, vi, 14 in James McKinnon, Music in Early Christian Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 154.

2 Augustine, Confessiones X, xxxiii, 49-50 in McKinnon, Music in Early Christian Literature, 154.

3 Athanasius, Epistula ad Marcellinum 29, PG XXVII, 40-1 in McKinnon, Music in Early Christian Literature, 53.

4 Augustine, Confessiones X, xxxiii, 49-50 in McKinnon, Music in Early Christian Literature, 154.

History: the ever present danger of baby and bathwater

The most interesting thing about early church singing is that almost without exception no instruments were used. They almost certainly sang – the bible talks about their singing in Acts 16:25 and 1 Corinthians 14:26 – but they didn’t use any instruments.

This is strange, because in Judaism there was singing with all sorts of instruments (See Ps 33, Ps 150). Two things influenced this almost total rejection of instruments:

First, Jewish practice by the time of the church had become centred on synagogues. Unlike the temple, which at its peak had probably hosted some pretty impressive instrumental worship, synagogues had much more stripped back unaccompanied singing with a focus on teaching the scriptures. Jewish Christians would have been used to this.

Second, instruments reminded Christians of something they deeply feared: Paganism. That’s why Clement of Alexandria (who lived AD115 to about 216) told Christians to ‘no longer employ the ancient psaltery, trumpet, timbrel, or flute’, which ‘inflame desire, stir up lust, or arouse anger.’¹ The only exception he allowed was for some instruments (cithara and lyre) at Christian agape meals. Likewise John Chrysostom (347-407) decided that it was only because of Old Testament people’s ‘dull temperament’ that God allowed instruments: as a concession, not an ideal.² Instruments reminded the early Christians of pagan worship of idols; they were so keen to distance themselves from it that they deprived themselves of something the Bible clearly celebrates.

Musicians use the term ‘a cappella’ to refer to unaccompanied singing. This literally means (in Italian) ‘in the chapel style’, because of the way Christians sang together for hundreds of years.

The lesson for us here is a simple one: don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. In distinguishing ourselves from the world, and the practices we disagree with, we need to be careful not to sell ourselves short, and deprive ourselves of something great.

That said, there is nothing wrong with great unaccompanied singing. But it is a good lesson to be aware of how we tend to hold art forms guilty by association. I’ve heard people say that we can’t use a certain style of music because it is ‘pagan’. I’ve heard church services criticised for being ‘too much like a rock concert’. No doubt there are things about pagan music and rock concerts we want to reject, but I suspect we often do so too quickly, without doing the hard work of filtering through what is good, bad and indifferent.

1 Clement of Alexander, ‘The Tutor of Children’, in Lawrence Johnson, Worship in the Early Church: An Anthology of Historical Sources (Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2009), para 832; Quasten, Music and Worship in Pagan and Christian Antiquity, 73.

2 John Chrysostom, ‘On Psalm 149’, in Johnson, Worship in the Early Church: Anthology of Historical Sources, para 1470. Likewise Nicetas of Remesiana, ‘On The Usefulness of Psalmody’, para 3197.

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?

On Hillsong's lyrics and theology

Really interesting article this month from Eternity magazine on Hillsong's lyric vetting process. I remember being quite surprised talking to Hillsong songwriters about how hands on their pastors are in the songwriting process.

Senior associate pastor Robert Fergusson writes:

“It’s a huge act of trust and submission, for someone who writes international award winning songs to submit their songs to us … it’s a great act of humility. I’m constantly honouring people like Darlene Zschech and Reuben Morgan who are happy to do this.”

It's a reminder to us here at Garage Hymnal (who are by no means international award winning songwriters!) to make sure we're humbly seeking feedback from godly people on our lyrics (thanks to Mark Peterson, Rob Smith, Philip Percival, Bart VandenHengel, Cedric Tang, Dave Parker and others who have offered suggestions on our last few albums). [update: I very carelessly left Peter Rodgers of this list, many apologies!]

http://www.biblesociety.org.au/news/inside-hillsong-music-120202-1