MWM: a future filled with hope (995)

If you were looking for something about President Obama or the new U.S. budget or same-sex marriage (or healthcare reform, or some hopeless initiative to label GMOs in our food, or Korea, or anything related to the current geopolitical situation to get upset about [or to agree with]), you won’t find it here.  As far as I’m concerned, there can be no transcendent, ultimate hope in a political nation.

Rather, we look to the second coming of Jesus . . . no, we long for that parousia.  We place our firm hope — and this is no wispy wish! — in the future event, knowing by faith that all present joys will be magnified beyond belief, and all temporary struggles will be erased.

Aside:  incidentally, one of the two or three primary “second coming” texts, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, was probably not intended as a focus of Paul’s message.  It is a highly significant text, and not to be ignored, but neither does it constitute the main thrust of a letter that deals more in relationship and in walking/living Christianly.

So, what will the first day be like — that first “day” after Jesus’ return?  (Days may not exist, as such, but they might not have existed during the creation of the world, either.)  What might we imagine in terms of our own presence in that moment of all moments, that event to end all earthly events?  How will it be for me?  I have no idea, really, but I know, by faith, that my spirit’s awareness of God will eclipse all else.

I shared words from this favored song in the past and would like to do so again now, more completely and with commentary:

“Still, Still With Thee” (Harriet B. Stowe)

Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.
 
Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,
The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.
 
As in the dawning o’er the waveless ocean
The image of the morning star doth rest,
So in the stillness Thou beholdest only
Thine image in the waters of my breast.
 
When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer;
Sweet the repose beneath the wings o’ershading,
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.
 
So shall it be at last, in that bright morning,
When the soul waketh and life’s shadows flee;
O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee.

One and Two:  The first two stanzas, unified, poetically express the encounter of the eternal in terms of a resplendent, earthly daybreak.  All the beauties of the dawning of a new day while in a natural surroundings are, however, eclipsed by the breathless adoration of our stunningly brilliant God.

Three:  I didn’t previously know this stanza.  Its message is a simpler, more confined, yet remarkably redemptive, one:  The saved person is not even “seen” by God as himself … no, because of having put on Jesus Christ, what the holy, exacting God does see is the image of the spotless Lamb.  If this soteriological truth were not present, all the poetic beauty in the world could not resolve the need for atonement, and this salvation-less situation would require our spiritual death to an eternal existence with God.

Four:  as death appears imminent, and even potentially in the actual experience of dying, the believing soul casts his eyes in faith toward God.  As a foreshadowing of the final rest, for the human who experiences the Lord’s protective peace, a certain rest may come.  Yet a humanly experienced peace is neither satisfying nor absolute.  The waking — the arising to a consciousness of a Presence like no other — this is the completion.

Five:  there is no more lofty, no more finally fulfilling thought than to be with God forever.  Come, Lord Jesus, and take Your bride home.

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[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

MWM: Adolphe’s discovery

[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

Some discoveries are more significant than others.  Three years ago, I wrote about a more important one — Jim Woodroof’s, actually — that philosophically and practically places the gospels at the center of Christian understanding and practice.  But other discoveries merit a bit of attention now and then, too.

Again and again this simply poetic truth comes to my consciousness, from author/musician Bruce Adolphe:

A good tempo is a discovery.

Adolphe writes rather inclusively of music and life, But I suppose he is read and quoted more by musicians than by philosophers or sociologists.  For my part, in re-appropriating the above quotation, I would like merely to suggest that music in Christian gatherings should be considered in the light of tempo.  There is no one perfect tempo for a song; tempi for each scenario and venue should be discovered individually.  As an example, let me take the relatively contemporary song “10,000 Reasons” by Jonas Myrin and Matt Redman.  

The metronome markings below, semi-paradoxically offered as predetermined, acceptable ranges, are by no means to be taken as absolutes.

1. on original Redman recording:  70-74 bpm
2. in an average, medium sized contemporary church with worship band:  74-78 bpm
3. in small group in a home:  76-84 bpm
4. in an a cappella congregation:  76-96 bpm

Brief explanations of the above:

1. The original “is what it is” (In this case, I’d say it’s a bit on the slow side, but it works fine for Redman, with all the originally planned sonic trappings.)  Unless all the tracks are recorded in the studio with a click track, you can expect some human tempo variation; here, there is just a small range.
2. Given relatively slow originally performed tempos — i.e., slower than average walking pace, for sake of discussion — I would  typically recommend a slight tempo increase for non-professionals.  If any big-name “artists” ever read this, don’t get all high and mighty and say your specific tempo should absolutely be used.  Remember, “a good tempo is a discovery.”
3. In a living room or family room with a small group of less practiced singers, the pacing will generally be better, for these types of songs, if it’s yet a bit faster than in a #2-type group.  (In a larger hall, the tones have time and space to dissipate, but in a small room, music that’s too slow can seem dry, if not dead.)
4. When the slower, contemporary songs originally had a good number of rests and/or sustained tone in the vocal line, as a rule, the tempo should be boosted fairly substantially, in order to avoid too much discomfort with the waiting.

It’s not important that our sensitivities to tempo grow a) because of musical accuracy or even because of aesthetics.  It’s not b) because this or that tempo is right or wrong.  It’s c) because pacing matters in the human experience of so many things — including, but not limited to, automobile travel, conversation, reading, life in general, and music in church gatherings.  Sometimes, giving thought to discovering the right tempo for your group, in your setting, may just enhance worship.

Speaking of worship, I’ve shared the song “10,000 Reasons” with friends on several occasions recently, and it is clear to me that it touches many hearts.  In fact, it is currently #1 on CCLI’s most requested list.  I’ll close with a few of the lyrics.

Verse 2:

You’re rich in love, and You’re slow to anger.
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind.
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing – 
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find.

Excerpt from chorus:

Sing like never before, O my soul
I’ll worship Your holy name

Words and Music by Jonas Myrin and Matt Redman

© 2011 Thankyou Music (Admin. by EMI Christian Music Publishing).

MWM: First Thing

[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

Many years ago, I was inspired — and here, I use the word in a quasi-secular manner, although I don’t discount, at least at points, that God might have been directly involved in “inspiring” — to write a bunch of songs.   Only a few of these have ever been used outside my own direct sphere of influence.  Furthermore, considering the few songs I’ve created in more recent years, although they’ve all seemed worthwhile at the time, appear not to be stylistically attractive these days.  Some of my creations were probably never destined to be sung, even if I’d been given the right opportunity at the right time years ago.  One such song is “First Thing in the Morning,” composed between 17 and 19 years ago.

Based on stanzas 1,2,5, and 6 of Isaac Watts’s “Early, My God, Without Delay,” my own ”First Thing in the Morning” is a loose paraphrase-and-excursus that initially grew out of my admiration for Watts’s expressions.  As the song developed, it also came to incorporate thoughts from Psalm 63, which has long been a favorite.  The work is specifically conceived for four finely honed voices — three trebles and one light tenor who can also sing in the baritone range with some authority.  The harmonies are very close, difficult for even most professional musicians, and can still give me goose pimples . . . but I don’t expect that they would strike others similarly.  Truth be told, the music is kind of un-doable.  (Ever heard of an old vocal group called “First Call”?  If they were still in existence and added a fourth voice, they could do it, but no one else I’ve ever heard could.)

Considered overall, this song is a series of connected meditations and amounts to a personal offering that did (does) a world of good for my own spirit but was never destined for a wider audience.  (It’s ironic that I was originally sensing that the Watts verse needed a musical face lift in order to be presentable to the then-contemporary church.  Now, this musical creation is out of style, if it ever was in style!)

With all this ado, I offer here the words and then the first few bars of the music.  Mostly, I would be pleased for readers to share the words with me here, and perhaps worship in spirit.

First thing in the morning, my God –
I will not delay.
I rush to seek Your face!
First thing in the morning, my God –
I rush to seek Your (holy) face!
~ ~ ~
Here I am in the midst of worship;
My eyes are open wide.
Here I am in the midst of worshipping You;
I thirst inside!
~ ~ ~
Seeing You and drinking of You are the most excellent things in my life.
You are my God — Jehovah-Provider — quenching me when life is dry.
~ ~ ~
Father, I hunger.
I can’t get enough of You.
You’re the only One Who satisfies.
After the thunder,
Oh, drench me in Your Spirit’s rain,
Or I will be like one who dies.
~ ~ ~
The best things in life can’t even come close to stirring my soul.
(O my soul, bless the Lord!)
The best things in life can’t even get a song running through my mind.
~ ~ ~
So as long as I live, I will live to make You happy.
And my worship I will give, knowing Your protection and love.
I will worship You with all of my being,
Lifting my hands,
All of me freeing.
I will worship You, Lord, truly with my ev’rything.
Wanting to meet You in spirit, to honor my King.
~ ~ ~
First thing in the morning, my God. . . .

“First Thing in the Morning”  words and music by Brian Casey, © 1994-1996 Encounter Music.

First Thing in the Morning *incipit* — approximately 1/8 of the entire song

Experienced in large churches

Some aspects of church gatherings are related to the group’s size.

Pacing.  As a musician, I notice musical elements pretty much wherever I am.  The tempos of worship and prayer songs stood out to me recently:  when songs are sung 30-50% too slowly, the music’s character seems lifeless; the mood may be compromised, if not the intended effect.  In large a cappella churches, at least, tempos almost always end up too slow, because it’s really difficult to move a mammoth.  Other  activities may also be on the slow side, too, but mostly, I think it’s the corporately active ones — namely, singing.

Where are you now?  When someone visits a large church with which there have been past associations, there are some notable, if common, experiences.  Recently, for instance, several people have asked me, “So, where are you now?”  This simple question comes out of historical relationship and also grows out of the one side’s dizziness at all the folks who return to their big-church sanctuaries/auditoriums at one time or another.

The relational reconnectings have their charm, and they do point up some good aspects of Christianity, horizontally speaking. However, speaking as one who returns to roots, not as one who generally stays close to the tree, I tend to be distracted by the prospect of recognizing, and being recognized by, old friends — to the point of hardly being able to concentrate on the person I’ve already found — because my glances are always darting around for the next person!  For me, this is one of the hazards of visiting in a large church where people return, seasonally, for this or that reason.

Ushering.  Another occurrence in a large church is ushering.  Now, there are many good people in churches serving as ushers. Periodically, some handicapped folks do need help getting in and out of the building, and in overflow situations, the usher is the guy who coaxes the latecomers to the front, where seats are still available.  For me, though, the ushering enterprise represents officialness and big business.  Instead of facilitating seating and such, for edification and worship, the usher makes me think I’m in a corporate meeting, subject to official protocols.

Attendance counts.  Ushering and the “So, where are you now?” question both have their redeeming qualities.  In my estimation, worse than either of the above is counting.  Hovering and scanning the pews while the assembly is in progress, counting people in the pews, for the sake of the corporate records, has long been a bother for me.  I don’t complete attendance cards of any sort, whether I’m a visitor or a regular.  I figure, my need not to be a cog in a corporate-church wheel eclipses any real need the church has to know that one more person was present and accounted for.

Call me a curmudgeon for feeling this way, but I can’t conscientiously support the concern of church officials over numbers, amounts, and surface-level trends.  These are not what church is to be about.

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Addendum:  after this blog was posted, I recalled something else I’ve noticed.  In a large church, there seems sometimes to be an undue emphasis on the “lineup”  of public leaders.

1. Pete Peterson will have our song service.  (All but the name is verbatim here.  What is it to “have” a song service?  And what is a “song service”?  What odd lingo….)
2. Our first prayer will be by John Johnson.
3. Our scripture will be read by Thor Thorson.
4. Our prayer before the sermon will be by Jack Jackson.
5. And our sermon will be by Evangelist Joseph Josephson.
6. Our announcements were by yours truly (is this the player/coach?), Rich Richardson.

And I ask you these questions:

• For those present who didn’t know every person in the lineup already, did they really care?
• For those present who did know, did they need to hear the names?  Why?  So they could say, “Oh, good.  I love it with Brother Jackson leads prayer” — focusing on the leader and not the throne of God?  Or maybe so they could say, “Oh, shoot.  That Brother Thorson always stumbles.  Why do they get him to read?”  And that begs another question, but I’ll save that for another time.

MWM: special songs

[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

A couple nights ago, we sang a few special songs with a group of friends:

• Jesus, Wonderful Thou Art (in which we worshipped the eternal Son)
• Into My Heart (in which we invited Him within)
• Be Still, My Soul (in which we expressed our trust)
• It May Be at Morn (in which we longed for the parousia)
• Lord, Speak To Me (in which we prayed for the Lord Jesus to fill us until we overflow, so that we tell his love)

And I ask you:  aren’t these all special songs?  In a real sense, every song in a Christian gathering should be special music.  Why sing a song unless it is special?

Many churches have developed a lingo that separates the solo song from the rest of the musical worship material.  Bulletins may list “Special Music” during or just after the offering.   “Who’s singing the special today?” is heard by many involved officially in musical leadership/offering.  If one isn’t careful, she could begin to think that “special music” should be more attended to than congregational music.

The “special music” lingo does indicate a good thing — congregationally oriented music as the norm.  Even as musical literacy in churches declines rapidly, it is good for churches small and large to continue to “major” in the large-group mode of worship.  It is engaging, fulfilling, and God-intended.

And wherever professional musicians call the shots, it would be good for a greater number of believers to show how energized they can be in lifting up voices from the pews (or theater seats, or whatever), as we did again yesterday morning:

This the pow’r of the cross
Christ became sin for us
Took the blame bore the wrath
We stand forgiven at the cross

W&M by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend
© 2005 ThankYou Music

Long live the singing of Christians.  Whenever two or three are gathered. . . .

MWM: Father and Friend

[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

Yesterday, I re-pondered this hymn (and actually sang it while driving with my family — any of the rest of you do such odd things at times?).  The words are among the best, I think, and have stayed in my memory for years now.  If you don’t know the tune, maybe you would allow yourself to spend time with them, reading them aloud to yourself or even sharing them with someone else….

Father and Friend, Thy light, Thy love
Beaming through all Thy works we see.
Thy glory gilds the heavens above
And all the earth is full of Thee.

Thy voice we hear, Thy presence feel
While Thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Enwrapt in clouds invisible,
Reignest the Lord of life and light.

Thy children shall not faint nor fear,
Sustained by this delightful thought:
Since Thou, their God, art everywhere,
They cannot be where thou art not.

John Bow­ring, 1825

MWM: from cosmic theology to a consciousness of theophany

Friday, I sang a song that was new to me.  This doesn’t happen often, but when it does, and the song is worthwhile, my spirit sits bolt upright.  This was a “Christmas song,” I suppose — a true carol — and I’m not talking about Frosty or the decking of halls, which are not the subjects of bona fide carols.  I’m not much for observing days and seasons as a matter of law, but I’m very much interested in good theology that leads to authentic worship.  When those things are present, and it happens to be “the season” for the subtopic, I figure I’m in the middle of a reasonable convergence.

New expressions, when carried on wings of appropriate, and not-too-difficult music, can enliven the spirit.  The last time this happened to me was three months ago; even this once-in-90-days frequency is greater than average.  At any rate, in the Friday gathering, the words of this hymn helped me to worship, so I’ll share them here, with a little commentary interspersed.

Thou Didst Leave Thy Throne

Words (1864) by Emily Elliott; Music by Timothy Matthews (public domain)

Thou didst leave Thy throne and Thy kingly crown,
When Thou camest to earth for me;
But in Bethlehem’s home was there found no room
For Thy holy nativity.

As you ponder that, ignore the commercialism and habits suggested these days by the word “nativity.”  Take it simply, literally — along with a literal “holy” — and the validity of the facts of Jesus’ birth can become worthy inspiration.

Heaven’s arches rang when the angels sang,
Proclaiming Thy royal degree;
But of lowly birth didst Thou come to earth,
And in great humility.

Again, acknowledging a couple of seasonally over-seasoned phrasings (“angels sang,” “lowly birth”), we can overcome that dullness, spiritually affirming such deep put truths as the joy of heaven, and the extent of His kingly status juxtaposed with His meek humility.

Thou camest, O Lord, with the living Word,
That should set Thy people free;
But with mocking scorn and with crown of thorn,
They bore Thee to Calvary.

Thank you, O poet, for not leaving Jesus in the manger when you speak of ransom and atonement.  These things occurred with the cross.

When the heav’ns shall ring, and her choirs shall sing,
At Thy coming to victory,
Let Thy voice call me home, saying “Yet there is room,
There is room at My side for thee.”

[Refrains]

O come to my heart, Lord Jesus
There is room in my heart for Thee.

My heart shall rejoice, Lord Jesus,
When Thou comest and callest for me.

The overarching imagery in this worship song (yes, it is a worship song, although ’twill ne’er show up in anyone’s contemporary worship set list!) is that of the Bethlehem inn — the lack of space there and the question of “space” in the individual heart for the Lord.  And so we move from cosmic theology to a consciousness of a sort of “theophany” for the individual believer.

Jesus was not really “Lord at His birth”; to suggest that He was manifests not only an ignorance of the word “lord,” but also a pandering to popular, piddling, perhaps over-poetized theologies.  I do generally like the song “Silent Night” and can sometimes be enthused by it, but lyrical hyperbole does not make for the best theology on every point.  It is not the child who is our savior; it is the crucified, risen Son of God — Who for a time had a body, and Who at one time was a human baby.

The refrains of the song repetitively remind us of the connection between ancient history and present relationship.  It is eminently worshipful to speak to the Lord in humble recognition of the Incarnation, and to express a desire for Him to dwell in my heart.

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[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

MWM: condescension

As time marches on, some words in Christian songs become lost in supposed irrelevance, and other words are simply edited out, as the human race “progresses,” engulfed in the sea of fearful political correctness.  For instance, we no longer call ourselves “worms,” as Isaac Watts did in “Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed,” because, well, that’s just bad for the psyché.

In all my years, I’ve known of only three men, including myself, who’ve led “Come, Christians, Join To Sing,” which includes the word “condescend.”  This word strikes the modern ear as rather jarring, when applied to someone’s relationship to me.  I mean, if someone is said to condescend to be with me or to speak with me, it puts me in an undesirable position of humble circumstance.

Yeah, exactly.

condescend, v.i., from L. com, together and descendere, descend

1.  to be gracious about doing a thing considered beneath one’s dignity

2.  to deal with others patronizingly

The primary above definition of the word is a good reason that the words stand tall in my memory of yesterday morning’s worship time with fellow Christians.  The secondary definition, although representing a more common understanding these days, has not a single thing in common with the Christ or the Father.

Now, here are the words of the second stanza of the poem by Christian Henry Bateman:

He is our Guide and Friend.

To us He’ll condescend.

His love shall never end.

Alleluia, amen!

It is quite clearly a condescension (primary definition) that led God to empty Himself of part of Himself, causing Jesus to be born.  That condescension, together with the resulting, apparent love shown, constitutes one reason for worship.

Other compelling phrases from my yesterday of group worship include these:

a song of praise that flows from those You have redeemed

keep silence before Him

You alone I long to worship

I surrender all

it’s my joy to honor You in all I do

this I know with all my heart:  His wounds have paid my ransom

under the shadow of Thy throne still may we dwell secure

by faith we see the hand of God

we will stand as children of the promise

Question:  what words moved you in worship yesterday (or other recent times)?

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[By the way, the "MWM" initials in the title of this post stand for "Monday Worship Music.”  The series to which this one is the sequel was called “Monday Music,” and archives may be accessed here.]

MWM: a moderate success

[The "MWM" initials stand for "Monday Worship Music.”  The series to which this one is the sequel was called “Monday Music,” and archives may be accessed here.]

* * *

Blessed with a good worship literature diet, I sang this scores of times during my growing-up years:

Lord of all, to Thee we raise 
This, our sacrifice of praise.

And I recall a clear sense of being enthused spiritually, emotionally, and musically by the leaders, including my own father, who would energize that first musical and lyrical line of the refrain, denying the congregation a certain thoughtless, lazy comma-in-fact.  No, when my dad led, the result was a more properly flowing, connected congregational expression, sans breath after the word “raise”:

Lord of all, to Thee we raise This,
Our sacrifice of praise.

Those with another hymnal sang,

Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our hymn of grateful praise.

(Note the removal, here, of the strange, yet biblically and theologically significant, idea of sacrifice.)

The words are from Folliot S. Pierpoint’s hymn text “For the Beauty of the Earth.”  Other key thoughts include offering praise to God

• “for the beauty of each hour”
• “for the joy of human love — brother, sister, parent, child”
• “for the church that evermore lifteth holy hands above”

All those lines flow easily out of my memory … but today, no thought is more compelling and convicting than the notion of sacrifice in praise.  When I was young, back in the Philadelphia tri-state area, even though I would have been even more immature in my consideration of what “this, our sacrifice of praise” might be, at least I was energized as I emphatically sang “to Thee we raise ==> THIS, our sacrifice of praise.”  Yet, at best, that was a mere beginning — a beginning I’m weakly continuing 30-odd years later.

Sacrifice is related -- surely, if not entirely – to worship because of Jewish covenant, thought, and practice.  The pages of the Torah often speak of the sacrifice of animals; this exceedingly odd, gruesome activity was neither odd nor gruesome in the days of Cain and Abel, Abraham, Esau & Jacob, Moses, and the rest.  Sacrifice was not strange to the Hebrews of old.

I suspect that most of us are far too distant, spiritually speaking, from the idea of sacrifice in worship.  Like many “types” and symbols, the animal sacrifices of Genesis, Leviticus, etc., find their fulfillment in the Messiah, and specifically in the denouement:  the Son’s offering of Himself once for all.  His bleeding — quite literal and gruesome — forever relegated to the past the need for animal sacrifice.

Further, there follows an important connection between Jesus’ self-sacrifice and our own.  But what is this current-era sacrifice to look like?  How do I live out the idea of presenting myself as a living sacrifice?  Romans 12:1-2 comes after 11 chapters’ worth of rational case-making and should be read, first, in the context of that entire letter/epistle, but there is surely an application to be made in my own context, and in yours.  (Note the passive voice there?  Yeah, I did, too.  It just came out.  Before I realized it, I was typing “to be made” instead of “I must apply that to myself.”  The passive voice requires less of me.  Hmm.)

How do I apply “living sacrifice”  Weakly (not at all weekly) and poorly.  But how should I apply it?  One small way, I would meekly propose, is to praise when I don’t feel like praising.  Last night, with thanks to God for His moving through the hearts and voices of others, I did just a little of that less-than-motivated, yet real, worshipping and praising.

Through Him then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.  Heb. 13:15

* * *

I gave this blogpost a heading/slug/title that’s probably more strange than the topic of animal sacrifice or heart sacrifice.  I don’t suppose “moderate” and “sacrifice” belong in the same arena.  In reality, I don’t often consider myself successful in the area of worship and praise.  But in the scheme of my failings and foibles and … well, sin … a few of last night’s experiences were moderately “successful” as sacrificial enterprises of the pneuma (spirit) and sarx (body–in this case, specifically the voice).

Just be aware that we’re here

True confession:  I am unable to sing an unfamiliar song in a church gathering unless musical notation is provided.

(Pause to ponder that.  Please.)

You may think the songs in your church are “easy,” but they all are built of the same melodic and harmonic materials, so they sound a lot more alike than you may realize.  Plus, the number of notes and musical tones I deal with in an average day simply does not allow me to retain the particular, banal melody of your new favorite song, whether we repeat it 8x or 20x.  No, really, I have tried recently, thinking, “I’ll bet I look silly, standing here and not singing when she knows I’m a professional musician.”  So I listen, and I try to remember “how it goes.”  By the 7th or 8th time the same phrase rolls around, I try it, and sure enough, I get something wrong — I end up substituting the melody or rhythm of derivative song #453 instead of #454.  They really do all sound alike.

You may think I should just get over myself and sing the song incorrectly.  But that is not who I am.  Some of it is a matter of choice — I choose not to do too many things carelessly and inaccurately — and some of it simply results from the glut of notes and tones in my particular life.  Many tunes do become indistinguishable after a while; I am sincere when I say I am unable to sing at times.

You may think that I could just worship without singing.  And you would be correct.  I’m trying, but it’s difficult for a musician to avoid music, focusing on only the words, when music is all around him.

You may think that I’m in a tiny minority, and you’re right.  Just be aware that we’re here — me and a few others.  Maybe we’re 5%, and maybe we’re 25%, but we have trouble worshipping with your church when you don’t provide musical notation so that we can avoid the distraction of being inaccurate with the music.  And, perhaps of more weighty statistical interest:  a huge proportion (I’d wager 50% or more) of churchgoers still exists that would be helped, to some degree (if not completely enabled), by music notation.  They may not know or admit it all the time, but they are partially musically literate, having been educated in our public schools, and they can sing more heartily if they have notes in front of them than if they have just the words.

You may think that what I’m calling for – musical notation in church gatherings in literate populations — is an elitist measure.  There seems to be a connection between this “elitist” criticism, which I steadfastly resist, and the passionate pursuit of “church growth.” When people (preachers and others whose livelihood depends on more people coming through the doors) get together to try to solve the church world’s problems apart from scripture, they can come up with all sorts of junk ideas, and this is one of them.  Aside:  I’ve also never believed the rule that says your church won’t grow past 75-80% of its seating capacity.  I find this principle largely shallow and self-serving; it leads to a drive for a newer, bigger building, which in turn makes it look like the preacher is doing great things, or else people wouldn’t have flocked to him and needed a bigger building.  While the lack of musical notation is not self-serving for preachers in the same way, it is also shallow and amounts to ignorance shown toward the worthy, generally and musically literate people who fill the seats.

You may think that there are larger Kingdom causes to be spending time on, and again, you’re right.  But this one deserves some attention, as well.

Church leaders, please consider taking the step of providing the words and the music for your assemblies.  It hurts no one, and it helps more of us than you probably realize.

P.S.  James Tackett of Paperless Hymnal (and, presumably others doing similar things in other denominations), keep up the good work of providing the words AND the music!

Origin as a theme in Galatians

As I become more familiar with the text of Galatians, I’m finding that where things come from might be a theme or motif.  Consider these:

• 1:1 — “sent not from men nor by men, by by Jesus Christ …
• 1:6-9 — origins of the gospel message
• 1:12 — ditto
• 1:15 — origins of God’s purpose in Saul/Paul
• 2:20-21 — the root of life, i.e., not law but identity in Christ
• 3:19-4:31 — the “seed” idea as seen in the Law’s relationship to the Christian Way, and as illustrated in Hagar and Sarah (note particularly the use of the Gk. sperma in 3:29 – often obscured in English translations)

This theme, if indeed it is one, appears to drop off in the “praxis” section of the letter, chapters 5 and 6.

Now speaking devotionally:  whether I’ve identified anything of merit or not, it seems good to consider often where we come from.

We are not self-made in any deep sense.  We are created beings, and wonderfully made.  We owe our life, our breath, and everything else to the God Who made the world and everything in it.  In a gloriously beneficent turn of redemptive history, this great God chose not to live in temples made with hands, but to draw near to humans — so that they might reach out for Him and find Him, and so that He would ultimately be able to make His home in our hearts.  In a sense, this indwelling has the potential to create a “full circle”:

1. God creates mankind
2. Mankind leaves the Point of origin, in a sense forgetting where he came from
3. God “travels,” bring the great Original into proximity with the subsequent, the created
4. We, apprehending Him, sense that He is Source; we choose whether or not to allow Him in again

In the words of Joseph Addison (1712),

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame
Their great Original proclaim.

. . . 

In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing as they shine,
“The hand that made us is divine.”

MWM: His wounds have paid

[The "MWM" initials stand for "Monday Worship Music.”  The series to which this one is the sequel was called “Monday Music,” and archives may be accessed here.]

Some things are foundational, and others are fluffy.  Some things are essential, and others are mere elaborations.

Sunday evening, we sang, “But this I know with all my heart:  his wounds have paid my ransom.”  This line is the last in the song “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us,” penned by Stuart Townend.  We sang it (twice) and meditated on it some.  While there were many other good lyric lines in our evening, this is the poignant poetry that stood out to me.

I don’t emphasize it here because it is found in a pretty song.

And not because of its author, either.

And not because it’s good poetry, in its genre.

And not even because it manifests the balance of relationship:  our response to God’s action.

I emphasize it here because it articulates a foundational Christian truth.  Long may it be that Christians express this kind of thing when they are together, and when they are apart.

. . .

More than eight years ago, I introduced it to a church in Kansas, and a friend there couldn’t get through it without tears in his eyes.  I remember that response to this day (obviously), and felt joy this summer in renewing that connection.   Also recently, I had opportunity to sing this song with a church for which this song was new.

Some songs are special, touching more than a segment of the Christian world in a specific time period.  Some songs seem to be somewhat universal in their appeal, and they tend to last longer than a fortnight.  Let me start a list of such songs:

• How Deep the Father’s Love for us
• Great Is Thy Faithfulness
• In Christ Alone
• I Love You, Lord
• How Great Thou Art

What other songs do you find to be fairly universal in appeal and worthwhile in terms of content?

MWM: I learned a new song

[The "MWM" initials stand for "Monday Worship Music.”  The series to which this one is the sequel was called “Monday Music,” and archives may be accessed here.]

Learning good, new songs is always a pleasure for me.  While I’m probably not in any sort of majority on this, a couple of my core traits are a) easily lulled into disinterest and mind wandering and b) musical. The former trait leads to a penchant for new things in my diets; combining “easily lulled” with “musical” means that a new song can readily become an oh-so-welcome vehicle for worshipping my God.

At this point in my life, it’s not all that often that a new song strikes me.  These days, few of the “new” songs are actually unique enough to merit much attention, in my “book.”  This lack of originality doesn’t make the songs bad; it does, however, often render them dull for me.  Anyway, when we re-visited a group of vibrantly singing believers two Sundays ago, and an unfamiliar hymn — yes, a true hymn! – was requested by a 22-year-old, I took notice and was inspired on at least two fronts.

The tune used for this hymn, “St. Petersburg,” is generally derivative and is specifically an adaptation of the same composer’s tune “Wells,” which is associated with “Till He Come.”  The music is not particularly striking, but it does make for a fine fit with the words, which are arrestingly worshipful. 

O Power of love, all else transcending, in Jesus present evermore,
I worship thee, in homage bending, thy name to honor and adore.
Yea, let my soul, in deep devotion, bathe in love’s mighty boundless ocean.

Thou art my rest; no earthly treasure can satisfy my yearning heart,
and naught can give to me the pleasure I find in thee, my chosen part.
Thy love, so tender, so possessing, is joy to me, and every blessing.

To thee my heart and life be given; thou art in truth my highest good.
For me thy sacred side was riven, for me was shed thy precious blood.
O thou who art the world’s salvation, be thine my love and adoration.

I was so engaged while singing (an unfortunately rare state for me in this phase of life) that I didn’t even notice the author and composer’s names at the bottom.  Both names are familiar to me.  A quick check on cyberhymnal.org shows no reference to this hymn, so I don’t feel bad that I didn’t know it earlier.  I did find two other sites that have catalogued it.

The author of the text also wrote the more familiar words “God Himself is With Us” — another worthy song which is a centering “call to worship” if there ever was one.

MWM: hymns — definitions, and one good example

[The MWM initials stand for "Monday Worship and Music.”  Once upon a 'blog, for a year, I endeavored to post every Monday on the lyrics of hymns and other worthwhile Christian songs.  The series, then called “Monday Music,” was almost always positive and/or inspirational, and archives may be accessed here.]

Having recently re-subscribed to Worship Leader magazine after a lengthy lapse, and having been paying new attention to a persistent, inner passion for strong worship content in church music, I’m reviving this series, sort of, in a new iteration — now with the moniker MWM.

Before resuscitating the series by sharing thoughts on a standard hymn from my younger days, I’ll begin with a brief, textual definition of “hymn”:

• a song of praise to God (Merriam-Webster)
• a song or ode in praise or honor of God, a deity, a nation, etc. (Dictionary.com)
• something resembling [the above]

Musically, on the contrary, a hymn might be well understood as 1) being somewhat less  harmonically static than a typical “gospel song,” conceived with four harmonic parts, 2) being formally simple, and 3) lacking a chorus, a/k/a “refrain.”

Therefore, in the Christian milieu, songs that are not addressed to God and songs that do include a chorus (e.g., “At the Cross” and “Blessed Assurance”) are not hymns, strictly speaking.  The “harmonic rhythm” of these songs is also relatively slow, i.e., the chords don’t change too often, making them harmonically more static.  Regardless of common parlance that labels anything a “hymn” that seems “well-worn” to a given person, I’ll be continuing to use the word “hymn” a good deal more specifically.  I’m a stickler for word meanings.  Now, on to a meaty morsel or two!

~ ~ ~

A true hymn textually speaking, “Jesus, Thy Name I Love” is a standard to me—in that it appeared in the hymnal I grew up with and was sung several times a year in my congregation as well as in others I would visit from time to time.

I was saddened that this song apparently fell so far out of favor as not to be included in the Paperless Hymnal until Volume 10.  This is no indictment of the prolific, responsive James Tackett, who does dedicated work for the sake of congregational singing; rather, it is an slam on us — on our cheapening taste and weakening literacy — since congregations had apparently not earlier requested that this worthwhile song stay available.

The words of this hymn reach to Jesus adoringly, lovingly — with ardent expressions such as these:

“Jesus, thy name I love, all other names above”

“O Thou art all to me; Nothing to please I see, Nothing apart from Thee”

“. . . then Thine own face I’ll see; then I shall like Thee be”

The hymnologists out there are doubtless aware of cyberhymnal.org, a site that has cataloged more than 10,000 public-domain Christian songs and made the words (and music, in many cases) available.  I would point out that the poetic meter of this song makes it a little unwieldy, tune-wise.  Neither tune referenced on the cyberhymnal.org website is the one I learned as a child, but the second one, “Braun,” seems a better match for the text than either the one I know or the one named “Stobel.”

No matter the tune, the likelihood of singing this song anytime soon in congregational worship is slim.  While this fact does sadden me, since the song diet to which many of us are accustomed is far less nutritive, there is no death knell for the worship easily stimulated by this song:  I can use the song privately!  (And so I did.)

Above “Above All”

In his blog (archive now unavailable, but referred to on another blog), Bob Kauflin commented on the popular “Above All,” written by Paul Baloche, giving an example of how he (Bob) responds to people who want him to use it in worship:

“There are a number of things about this song I really like. The melody is enjoyable to sing and easy to remember. It does a great job emphasizing God’s sovereign rule over all, and focusing on the sacrifice of Christ. The poetic images are engaging and the harmonic progression is creative.

But two parts bother me, both near the end of the song. The first is the line “you took the fall.” It seems like an understated way of describing what Jesus did. Not wrong, but not the best.

The other problem is the line, “and thought of me above all.” I have no question that Jesus loved me and gave himself for me (Gal. 2:20). But he didn’t think of me “above all.” Jesus went to the cross to satisfy God’s righteous judgment against a sinful humanity. He thought of his Father’s holiness, justice, and glory above all. It may seem like a theological nuance, but it’s the difference between our faith being man-centered and God-centered. I don’t think that’s what the writers intended, but I think it could cause some confusion in people’s minds. Besides, I think we have other songs that better articulate Jesus died for because he loved us and for his Father’s glory. But, thanks for suggesting it, and please let me know if you have any other thoughts!”

In the grand scheme, there are a lot worse things than singing “you took the fall” to Jesus.  While this expression (like “When the roll is called up yonder” and “there’s an all-seeing eye watching you”) may strike me as chincy, I’d rather have someone somewhat shallowly sing that than not to sing anything that honors Jesus at all.

Songs are more than filler.  Since songs have bona fide thought-content, their messages should be examined.  It’s not that we must comb through every syllable of every song judgmentally, yet care exercised over the thrust of the message could result in better-founded theological understandings among us all.  When I subsist on expressions that call more attention to God than to me, my faith is more healthy.

From old correspondence, on “new” songs (3)

Referring to the request for feedback published here, I share now my father’s earlier, much more succinct response to the campus minister’s inquiries:

Having worshiped with brothers & sisters in over 40 states, with focus on worship (especially in song) in Colorado, Nebraska, and Delaware, I am very much interested in your attempt as outlined above. Just need to have some of the terminology dealt with initially.  First, what do you mean by “worship” songs?  Where would “Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life,” “He Bore It All,” “I Am Mine No More,” and “Now Thank We All Our God” fit–if they fit?  Then, what is a “new” song?  An “old” song?  (Is date written the determining factor? Musical style? Congregational familiarity with it?)

Without having your answers, I could still be fairly confident in saying that the “one thing” you mention would include “heaven”–yet maybe not in the way you mean.  We have a plethora of songs about the eternal home or ones that deal with some aspect of it, but most of these don’t have “worship” embedded within them and don’t do an effective job of drawing worshipers to worship.

Here’s trusting that your attempt to improve our assembly times will glorify the Father and will help all of us learn better how to adore Him. This “home improvement” project will take a lifetime and will never produce a finished structure, but your efforts may help us all do a better job of looking and reaching heavenward, “where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.”

Because of the One we revere,

Gerald Casey

From old correspondence, on “new” songs (2)

Referring to the request for feedback published here, I share now the bulk of my response, with only a couple of omissions for sake of relevancy.

I greatly empathize with your goals, having led and worshipped in Delaware, Arkansas, Texas, Tennessee, Kansas, Missouri, and Colorado.  I’m fairly well in touch with “contemporary” music and also hold dear the richness of true hymns (those that address Deity with reverence, not just the “old songs”).

Like my father, I also would encourage you to define some terms such as “old songs” and “contemporary,” if and where you use the terms.  A new song to our church may not be new to the E-Free church 3 miles away; the same song will be “old” to our church in 5 years, though another church may not hear it for 20 more years.  Is “Jesus Is Lord” a contemporary song?  “Here I Am To Worship”?  “Holy, Holy, Holy” — which may have a new lyric line or chorus that’s made it popular since Matt Redman or Michael W. Smith recorded it?  I find that the term “old song” means something slightly different, in terms of chronology, to just about every person who uses it.

Also, the words “worship” and “praise” delineate in one way for some, almost in the opposite for others, and are synonymous for yet others.  Some seem to have very little idea that not everything we do in the assembly is worship (nor should it be), or that worship can and should be an activity of believers outside of the assembly.

So on to your questions (and I will basically deal with only one), realizing that the time for your data collection has probably passed by now:

> What is that one thing?  (ie. heaven, forgiveness, creation, etc.)

Since you mentioned it, I don’t think we’ve had very many creation-oriented praise songs written recently.  A wonderful song by Chris Rice comes to mind — I think it was just called “Hallelujahs.”  It describes nature scenes and concludes each thought with “and my soul wells up with hallelujahs.”  Moving.  But it’s not really singable a cappella.  “How Great Thou Art” fits the bill and continues to be sung by most churches periodically, but we need more of these types.

Speaking in terms of songs that have been written in the last, say, 10 or 15 years, we might need fewer songs that use cliché expressions — “lift our voice(s),” “lift up the name of Jesus,” and “here in Your presence,” for example, and anything that rhymes with the word “free” (a pet peeve of mine, though I think I’ve even used that rhyme in my own writing a time or two).  :-)  Then again, there are phrases that bear repeating over and over again, such as “holy, holy, holy” and “we bow down.”

Something that strikes me as fairly unique is expressing to God that we “believe in Him.”  An Amy Grant song did that 10-12 years ago, and there’s the gospel-song chorus “But we believe Thy footsteps trod its streets and plains, Thou Son of God….”  But to say to God, “We believe in You.  We accept that You created the world.  We worship You” is a great thing, and perhaps especially in this age.

I’m not currently leading musically, except, for instance, in the group we hosted in our home for worship last month.  But I am a constant observer (as well as participant!), and I’d like to observe this, while I’m expressing thoughts:  In a cappella churches that use “contemporary” music, it seems that there must be a concerted effort to teach harmony.  (And Ken Young’s arrangements should definitely not be the standard.  He’s got a great heart, but he doesn’t know how to arrange.)  The level of musical literacy is clearly decreasing.  Not that music is the end; it’s only one means of worshipping.  But in a fellowship that emphasizes singing so much, churches that don’t offer printed or projected music will soon not hear harmony from the pews.  They either need to make harmony available, or give up and use instruments.  Melody-only music will not hold people’s interest very long, no matter how “hip” the songs are.

Another pitfall is what I’ll call the “agitated style” of worship leading.  Typically, this problem exists in a cappella churches that have suffered in the past from funereal tempos that pervaded all songs and styles.  You know the type:  “O Happy Day” and “Christ the Lord Is Ris’n Today” were sung at the same tempo as “Abide with Me” and “When My Love To Christ Grows Weak” — all at about 60 beats per minute.  These churches live in comatose states for years, and then some fresh blood comes in to try to save the day.  Now many songs are not only too fast, but beats are skipped at the end of each phrase in an effort to breathe some life into things.  No one can catch a breath, and there is little feeling of congregational unity.  What results is often an annoying lack of rhythm — all in the name of enthusiasm and excitement that are well intended but out of balance.

It’s ironic that if this generation’s music is anything, it’s rhythmically oriented, but when contemporary songs are imported into an a cappella setting, the rhythm suffers so that no one can feel the beat anymore.  Part of the problem is the longer notes that are, in the original versions, supported by non-vocal musical material.  In a non-instrumental setting, it feels like forever to hold a whole note tied to a half note in the next measure.  Add to this the apparent shyness of some modern worship leaders about using their hands to help keep the beat and keep the congregation together — I know, it feels “old-school” to beat time — but the problem is made worse when beats are skipped and no one can predict when the leader is going to sing the next note because there are no visual cues, either.

I feel very strong about quality and depth in lyrics.  For 10 years or more I have been a proponent of newer songs, but I have tried to be careful about injecting a repertoire with a syringe full of all-new songs gathered simply because of their newness.  Yes, I agree:  God wants new songs!  Newness is good.  But not all songs that are written are worthwhile just because they’re new.  Neither does association with a performing artist, a movement, or a denomination guarantee quality.  I particularly get tired of Vineyard songs.  After one or two, they all sound the same.  It would help if they weren’t all in the keys of D and G—keys particularly friendly to the average or below-average guitar player.  :-)

What do we need more of?  I think you’re on the right track just by asking the question.  We need to give thought to such facets as the uniqueness of the thoughts in the given song.  We need more worshipful communion songs, for instance, but the thoughts need to add something to what we already have.  I surveyed 5 or 6 CofC hymnals 10 years ago and tabulated the topical themes of songs (e.g., <Songs of Faith and Praise> might have had 26% songs addressed worshipfully to the Father, while <Songs of the Church> only had 4% of the same category), but I doubt those results would be of interest to you now.

From old correspondence, on “new” songs

A staff minister in Colorado sent out a “survey” about new songs several years back.  I received it third-hand.  My dad wrote in reply to this youth minister, and I wrote a few weeks later.  Neither of us ever received a reply.

                I am currently serving as campus minister with the _______ Church.  I’m doing a small survey on the topic of worship songs, and I would be very grateful if you could take a few moments to respond with your feedback.

                I am blown away by the sheer number of times the psamist proclaims “sing a new song” in his lyrics.  New songs reveal the dynamic, growing nature of our faith, and can challenge, inspire, and simply provide a new way to celebrate.  But often, I feel that we either sing new songs simply because they’re new, without giving much though to what the songs communicate.  Or we just sing mostly old songs.  As a songwriter, worship leader, and growing follower of Jesus, I believe in a balance of not forgetting the old, but striving towards new (and even improved) expressions of our faith in songs.  What this requires is a dedicated effort by songwriters, leaders, and everyone else, to create songs that are meaningful, that lyrically address relevant issues/emotions, and that display musical excellence.  This is especially needed in many of our communities where singing a cappella, or mixing instruments and the a cappella singing style presents unique challenges, but also profound opportunities for innovation.

                So for now, I am trying to find out what kinds of worship songs we need more of in our worship gatherings.  I know you’ve probably had the feeling of wanting to sing or lead a song that communicates a certain feeling or idea, but you didn’t know of any or many songs that communicate that one thing.  So my question is:

• What is that one thing?  (i.e., heaven, forgiveness, creation, etc.)
• What kind of songs do we need more of?
• Less of?
• What are we missing?
• What should we be communicating to God and each other in our corporate times of singing?

                 I would appreciate your feedback on any of these questions, and for that matter on any other relevant ideas or issues that relate to this discussion.  I plan to compile the information I receive and write it up in article form, so let me know if you’d like to read that when it’s done.  If you wish to be placed on an email list that will serve as a discussion forum for these issues, just let me know.  Also, please forward this to anyone you think might be interested in this discussion.  Thanks so much for your time!  May God be glorified and be given the very best we have to give!

What are your thoughts on the above?

As usual, I’m more interested in the content than in the style, and for that reason above others, I appreciate this guy’s questions:  they ask what we are saying (or missing) not how we are saying it.  In the next installments, I will share my own reply and then my father’s.

Leading singing in Searcy (3 of 3: College Church)

[continued from here]

III.       At the College Church

The College Church of Christ is an iconic CofC that isn’t necessarily the oldest in town but is the largest and has been the most influential over the long haul.  Since I didn’t jump on the College Church bandwagon while a student and take the convenient route to the church that was closest to campus, I was never a privileged student leader there.

Once, many years later, a couple months before a visit to Searcy, I wrote to an old college friend, who was then involved in worship planning, to see if there might be a Sunday night I could lead at the College Church.  I didn’t hear from him at all; instead, I got a “blind” note from … wait for it … the preacher (aarrgghh).  I hadn’t addressed the preacher (whose name I didn’t know at the time), he had no relationship with me, and he didn’t even tell me what his official capacity was when he wrote me tersely to say “thanks, but no thanks.”  As I discovered later, the College Church’s refusal to admit me (on a one-time basis) to their sacred ranks all went to a relational issue that was obsolete and mostly, if not completely, in the minds of a few.  I get a little upset when I think about this still, even though it occurred more than two years ago.  I wish, frankly, that I hadn’t cared, but there was something about the experience of leading at this church, and the history of relationships there, that made me care.

Now, back to our unscheduled program.  Back in the day, the College Church was famous for having only-professional-quality song leaders.  Not a first-string and second-string group, but an only-string group.  High levels of proficiency and “professionalism” (although that term wasn’t as common back in the day) were expected.  Only two or three music professors — and two or three others who could have been music professors — were “allowed” to lead.  I don’t believe this amounted to a draconian ousting of the inept.  Back then, people weren’t as likely to be offended at not being included; it was simply the way it was.  Quality was expected, and the regular rotation selected quality material for worship and led in a generally well-above-average way.  All but one of these men I remember as the “A” list have moved into the land of the eternally living now.

Don’t let the modern logo fool you; the College Church strikes one as relatively conservative in structure and practice.  It possesses a powerful legacy — and perches high atop a pedestal in the eyes of many, including a fair number of its own congregants.  I don’t think I ever personally idolized the College Church; yet, deep within, there was for a long time a faint, but persistent, yearning to be included as a leader there.  Even one appointment would be sufficient.  I wanted to be able to say that, once in my life, that I was one of the few, the gifted, the chosen … that I had been presented with the opportunity to do what only a relatively small number of leaders had done:  leading singing at the College Church in Searcy, Arkansas.  This was the town that produced, through its College-turned-University, what were considered by many to be the finest a cappella choruses known in our fellowship of churches.  This was the small town that had four fairly large churches of our stripe, and lots of capable student and faculty leaders (all “laity,” mind you).  And in this town, College Church was king of kings.

One time, a couple of years ago, I sort of slipped in and led at the College Church — by quasi-approval, during a free-for-all singfest in which multiple leaders were leading two songs each.  The opportunity presented itself, and I took it, and now, I don’t ever need to lead at College again.  I’m persuaded now that I do more effective work in other scenaria, and I’m happy to do things I think are more important in the Kingdom than to lead singing at a place where there is such an auspicious history of song leaders, and where the congregation is so large that actual leading and following are not options, in any real sense.

Epilogue

Leading singing in Searcy was an important part of my earlier Christ-ian history, and the experiences were positively formative for me.  These days, I continue to treasure opportunities to do such leading; this particular species of opportunity now comes every few weeks in Rochester, New York.  There, our Lawson Road Church is a rare one in which depth of content is valued above style, speed, and glitz — and in which a nicely disproportionately large number of mature believers have leadership qualities and inclinations that are well suited to worship in the assembly.  Yet I am convinced that with current developments in Christian music and church-growth thinking, congregational singing is deteriorating.

Never will congregational singing be the same, yet other aspects of church are being bolstered.  It’s no case of “easy come, easy go” for me:  worship and a mutual sense of what we’re gathered for are a high priority.  Although I was for years a champion of “contemporary music” in my congregation–using overhead transparencies before PowerPoint and projectors were affordable, editing and compiling two hymnal supplements, and leading with the teenagers — I am no longer as concerned with contemporaneity in worship content.  It is, in the final analysis, all about content.  Who are we to say that Matt Redman and Casting Crowns and the erstwhile favorite Twila Paris are more soul-enriched than Charles Wesley, L.O. Sanderson, William Cowper, Clement of Alexandria, and even Fanny Crosby?  Content is content, and style is style.

As strong congregational singing declines, I am wistful and more than a trifle sad.  But I am saddened less now than I was when I first began to perceive and comment on this decline.  Maybe it’s creeping apathy in that causes my sadness to be less painful.  Or maybe it’s that I am finding other ways to serve in the Kingdom.  May God keep me from apathy and move me more into valuable service, wherever I am.  No matter whether worship and congregational song leading in a decade looks anything like it did in the 50s, 80s, or 90s, the Kingdom of God is forever.

Leading singing in Searcy (2 of 3: West Side)

[continued from here]

II.        At West Side

Again, as with my Harding University-related leading opportunities, my family reputation preceded me:  as a 17-to-20-year-old, I was pleased to be entrusted with regular leading responsibilities at the church I attended — the West Side Church.  I rode a bus there, since it was about two miles away.  One of the elders—a dear professor named Baggett, for whom my parents had sung when he directed the Christian academy chorus, and a man my other grandparents counted as a friend—put me in front of the church about once a month for the three and a half years I was in college.

I don’t remember the weekly planning process, but I don’t think there was anything submitted in advance for a bulletin or “worship program.”  I don’t believe anything was coordinated with the preacher or other leaders.  I would simply choose songs from the hymnal, a copy of which I owned, and then I showed up to lead.  There were no “contemporary music” options available at that time, but I would have led a balance of songs that ranged mostly from 50-250 years old (plus one from the 3^rd century) from the hymnal, and would have chosen appropriate songs and stanzas well in advance.  Thinking things through is always good.

Although I have few specific memories, I can guarantee you that there was bona fide worship content when I led.  I had been taught well by my grandfather, father, and others.  Songs like “Lord of All Being, Throned Afar” and “Day Is Dying in the West” and “Father and Friend, Thy Light, Thy Love” would have been likely choices for me during this period (and beyond!).  I believe that much worship occurred during such times, no matter whether I was leading or someone else, as in certain churches today that think they’re worshipping more, and better.

Despite my youth, I put relatively mature thought into leading and did some good things.  Since I had some prior experience leading in my home church, at youth events, and at camp before coming to college in Searcy, I was accustomed to conventions such as writing out lists of song numbers, inserting prayers and readings at the “right” spots with other men’s names filled in (often, at the last minute when brother so-and-so didn’t show up to fill his assignment), announcing song numbers twice in two forms (“four hundred fifty six . . . four-five-six” [to make sure someone didn’t accidentally turn to 466), and holding up fingers to indicate stanza numbers.

Since leading at the West Side Church was a regular thing for me throughout my undergraduate college “career,” I probably owe Eddie Baggett (the elder, professor, and family friend) a lot more than I’ve realized for giving me the opportunity to develop as a leader at this important time of life.  He and his wife are now in their upper 80s, and we had a nice visit with them a few weeks ago in their home.

To be continued . . .