Have you ever have the urge to shed your clothes in church while singing?
I haven’t – well, not exactly.
But a few Sundays ago I wore a turtleneck to church as we sang “…Sing a New Hallelujah”. I desperately tried to think how this might apply to my cuckoo life. I imagined myself inserting these words to the same tune:
“Lord, I am so glad that as I sit here in church, I don’t have the uncontrollable urge to walk up to the 4th row and strangle the person who sits in the 3rd seat over like I did last Sunday. This is a new way to thank you.”
I was trying to interpret these words in a way I could understand them that day. I don’t mean any disrespect here, but worship choruses just aren’t doing much for me right now.
We call them by many names –praise songs, worship choruses, worship songs, praise AND worship songs. What do those phrases really mean anyway? I asked my husband how we know if a song is a “praise and worship” song. He said we’d know it is if it’s in the “praise and worship” catalogue.
Since worship is really the act of declaring God’s worth, it’s not limited to music. We can declare God’s worth in many other ways. Therefore, “worship music” isn’t a good moniker. Since “praise” means an expression of approval or admiration, “praise music” would be a better descriptor, but not perfect, since this encompasses music from many other genres. Really, I think “praise and worship” music most often refers to songs sung together in church.
So why do they taste stale to me right now? I think maybe it’s because some are painted with brushes dipped in happy paint, and lack the muted tones of honesty. And it seems so many of them are constructed with homogenous river-rock words drawn from the same 5-gallon bucket. This is my honest perception; it could be that my palate is dulled by a spiritual cold, or it could be my palate just craves spicy foods.
In Ephesians, Paul tells us to “Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord” (Ephesians 5:19, NIV).
Paul is telling us here that he wants us to use music to express our hearts to each other and to the Lord. For some reason God finds this language important. He mentions different dialects here – psalms (songs taken straight out of the book of Psalms), hymns (the antique rendition of a modern-day praise chorus), and spiritual songs. Pneumatikos is the Greek for “spiritual” here, which means, in short “relating to the human spirit, or rational soul, as part of the man which is akin to God”. This sounds like a broad category – it suggests it’s something from deep down in the heart, which has emotions spanning joy to grief, and is creative just like God.
Blueletterbible.org includes commentaries by David Gutzik’s, which I like. Here is his insight into this scripture:
(Regarding) “ ‘Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs’: This variety suggests that God delights in creative, spontaneous worship. The most important place of us to have a melody unto God is in our heart. Many who can’t sing well have the most beautiful melodies in their heart.
The emphasis is more on variety than on strict categories. ‘We can scarcely say what is the exact difference between these three expressions.’ (Clarke)” (Emphasis his)
Perhaps the variety of music is the thing to take with us from this scripture. Perhaps it pinpoints one reason I tire of the focus on modern-day hymns in church-services. Maybe I think a bit like David. One minute I don’t have enough good things to say to God, and the next, I bewail that God is unfair, and bemoan to him how hurt and frustrated I am. Are we skipping over these Psalms in church, focusing on the positive ones? Out of the “psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” we are to sing, are we sticking to the ones layered with sweet frosting? I often crave for an honest expression of someone’s hurt, or their frustration, followed by a description of where God is in all of this for that person. Are we featuring songs of triumph, leaving out songs of lament? Are we singing only “to Him” and forgetting to sing “to one another” out of artistry and honesty, like God tells us to do?
I realize that those who write music intended to be sung in church have a tall order to fill: the songs must be easy to sing; meaning, has a tune that’s easy to remember, written in mid-range, and follows familiar chord progressions. Hats off to those who have written very creative songs while staying in these boundaries. And a toast to those very talented and dedicated musicians who spend countless hours every week preparing to lead us in these beautiful songs. But can we go beyond those boundaries? Can we weave in music that was born out of the depths of inventive souls; and those out of souls that are sad, searching?
The Evangelical movement’s anthem has been to move away from reciting liturgy, because it can become rote – words that are repeated so many times they lose their meaning. The modern worship chorus has taken its’ place, allowing for a heart-felt expression of love for God. Good intention here; however, for me, worship choruses have become more liturgical than the liturgy they were replacing. Do we clothe our hearts at times, using worship chorus as the runway to say what we ought to say, what looks good and what’s in style, but not what’s really in our nude hearts?
I am a worshipper that wants candidness and originality in music, and, as a musician, I want to offer it. But, the church seems to be content with easy-to-sing-along choruses. “Sing to the Lord a new song!”, David writes, as an expression of gratitude for something new going on in his passionate yet distorted mind. I am proposing a twisted twist: “Sing to the Lord a nude song”. No irreverence intended here. I’m suggesting singing a new song that is honest, using real words that flow from our warped, confused, and off-kilter minds. Fig leaves weren’t God’s idea; it was man’s idea to manufacture masquerade-wear and Prada purses.
Can we remove our music makeup and bare our buff souls on Sundays?—alg
I haven’t – well, not exactly.
But a few Sundays ago I wore a turtleneck to church as we sang “…Sing a New Hallelujah”. I desperately tried to think how this might apply to my cuckoo life. I imagined myself inserting these words to the same tune:
“Lord, I am so glad that as I sit here in church, I don’t have the uncontrollable urge to walk up to the 4th row and strangle the person who sits in the 3rd seat over like I did last Sunday. This is a new way to thank you.”
I was trying to interpret these words in a way I could understand them that day. I don’t mean any disrespect here, but worship choruses just aren’t doing much for me right now.
We call them by many names –praise songs, worship choruses, worship songs, praise AND worship songs. What do those phrases really mean anyway? I asked my husband how we know if a song is a “praise and worship” song. He said we’d know it is if it’s in the “praise and worship” catalogue.
Since worship is really the act of declaring God’s worth, it’s not limited to music. We can declare God’s worth in many other ways. Therefore, “worship music” isn’t a good moniker. Since “praise” means an expression of approval or admiration, “praise music” would be a better descriptor, but not perfect, since this encompasses music from many other genres. Really, I think “praise and worship” music most often refers to songs sung together in church.
So why do they taste stale to me right now? I think maybe it’s because some are painted with brushes dipped in happy paint, and lack the muted tones of honesty. And it seems so many of them are constructed with homogenous river-rock words drawn from the same 5-gallon bucket. This is my honest perception; it could be that my palate is dulled by a spiritual cold, or it could be my palate just craves spicy foods.
In Ephesians, Paul tells us to “Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord” (Ephesians 5:19, NIV).
Paul is telling us here that he wants us to use music to express our hearts to each other and to the Lord. For some reason God finds this language important. He mentions different dialects here – psalms (songs taken straight out of the book of Psalms), hymns (the antique rendition of a modern-day praise chorus), and spiritual songs. Pneumatikos is the Greek for “spiritual” here, which means, in short “relating to the human spirit, or rational soul, as part of the man which is akin to God”. This sounds like a broad category – it suggests it’s something from deep down in the heart, which has emotions spanning joy to grief, and is creative just like God.
Blueletterbible.org includes commentaries by David Gutzik’s, which I like. Here is his insight into this scripture:
(Regarding) “ ‘Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs’: This variety suggests that God delights in creative, spontaneous worship. The most important place of us to have a melody unto God is in our heart. Many who can’t sing well have the most beautiful melodies in their heart.
The emphasis is more on variety than on strict categories. ‘We can scarcely say what is the exact difference between these three expressions.’ (Clarke)” (Emphasis his)
Perhaps the variety of music is the thing to take with us from this scripture. Perhaps it pinpoints one reason I tire of the focus on modern-day hymns in church-services. Maybe I think a bit like David. One minute I don’t have enough good things to say to God, and the next, I bewail that God is unfair, and bemoan to him how hurt and frustrated I am. Are we skipping over these Psalms in church, focusing on the positive ones? Out of the “psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” we are to sing, are we sticking to the ones layered with sweet frosting? I often crave for an honest expression of someone’s hurt, or their frustration, followed by a description of where God is in all of this for that person. Are we featuring songs of triumph, leaving out songs of lament? Are we singing only “to Him” and forgetting to sing “to one another” out of artistry and honesty, like God tells us to do?
I realize that those who write music intended to be sung in church have a tall order to fill: the songs must be easy to sing; meaning, has a tune that’s easy to remember, written in mid-range, and follows familiar chord progressions. Hats off to those who have written very creative songs while staying in these boundaries. And a toast to those very talented and dedicated musicians who spend countless hours every week preparing to lead us in these beautiful songs. But can we go beyond those boundaries? Can we weave in music that was born out of the depths of inventive souls; and those out of souls that are sad, searching?
The Evangelical movement’s anthem has been to move away from reciting liturgy, because it can become rote – words that are repeated so many times they lose their meaning. The modern worship chorus has taken its’ place, allowing for a heart-felt expression of love for God. Good intention here; however, for me, worship choruses have become more liturgical than the liturgy they were replacing. Do we clothe our hearts at times, using worship chorus as the runway to say what we ought to say, what looks good and what’s in style, but not what’s really in our nude hearts?
I am a worshipper that wants candidness and originality in music, and, as a musician, I want to offer it. But, the church seems to be content with easy-to-sing-along choruses. “Sing to the Lord a new song!”, David writes, as an expression of gratitude for something new going on in his passionate yet distorted mind. I am proposing a twisted twist: “Sing to the Lord a nude song”. No irreverence intended here. I’m suggesting singing a new song that is honest, using real words that flow from our warped, confused, and off-kilter minds. Fig leaves weren’t God’s idea; it was man’s idea to manufacture masquerade-wear and Prada purses.
Can we remove our music makeup and bare our buff souls on Sundays?—alg
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