Matt Redman recently published an article in Christianity Today that I’ve been pondering for a few weeks. It’s called Why Worship Leaders Need Theologians, and in the article he recalls that, a full two decades ago, church leaders were having a conversation regarding the vapid and ever-shallowing nature of our modern worship music. Here’s a snippet:
Twenty years ago, I wrote to key pastors, preachers, and theologians asking them a simple question: “What are some essential themes of Scripture that are lacking in our current worship expressions?”
Many of the replies referenced God as creator, God as judge, and God as Trinity. While they offered positive comments about contemporary worship music, there was a sense of challenge: For the good of the church and the glory of God, we must do better.
But fast-forward a couple of paragraphs, and he says what many of us have been thinking.
A couple of decades later, I wonder how much progress we have made. Worship music has evolved and progressed creatively, showing up across more musical genres than ever before. The production aspects of our expressions have moved forward too. But can we say the same about the lyrical, theological content?
The Measure of Progress
As with everything in the church, the value of spiritual practice is not measured by the thickness of lyrics or diversity of the genre, but by the fruit it produces. Worship music is a tool of discipleship, and the only way to measure its worth is by looking back at how the practice of singing these songs has formed us as a generation of Christians. What kind of Christian has it produced? By this measure there aren’t many who would say that we could pass that inspection.
Worship music has faced much criticism over the years, and deservedly so. Honestly, the lyrics have grown shallow. They often lack the depth of historic Christian thought. Many have tried to address the temptation to focus so much on marketing and production; perhaps there has been some progress. But if we never stop to ask questions about how the music we sing shapes the church away from the powers of this world and towards Jesus, then we will find ourselves always on a side quest to stop the latest temptation for worldliness from creeping in. If the worship industry is so temptable, then it is in need of reformation.
In terms of spiritual formation, we would be hard-pressed to argue that our most popular worship songs have shaped the church in a positive way. Instead, scandals in the corporate worship music scene have severely damaged our reputation. The central thoughts of many of these songs have not helped us become a more self-aware or Christlike generation. We have become more interested in the things of Babylon. Our songs are often used in their political rallies, and our worship leaders regularly occupy the stages of their favorite politicians, blessing their activities in the seats of earthly power. Modern worship music produces far more money than it does disciples, and I can’t imagine that being said about any other spiritual discipline of the church.
It is an exercise in futility to ask pastors and theologians about the “essential themes of Scripture that are lacking in our current worship expressions” if we don’t first perceive the role of the music we sing and the artists that create it.
It seems helpful to start with our unexamined assumptions about what role is being filled by worship leaders. It is distinct from roles like teaching, preaching, or evangelizing. Conflating those roles diminishes their impact. A worship leader's job isn’t to teach theology or proclaim the gospel (though a well-written song may indirectly do both). Nor is it leading worship generally evangelistic in nature (though often it is by grace). The work of modern worship leaders aligns more with the work of the monks, the nuns, and all the saints of the church who have written prayers, chants, meditations, and hymns for use both in corporate gatherings and in the daily and quiet moments of prayer throughout the day.
Worship artists and leaders are liturgists. They serve us the work of those who have gone before us. They serve us the deepest of prayers written in the darkest of times by the most faithful saints and the joyful poems and prayers of those who have found God after a long journey. Songs like “It is Well,” “Amazing Grace,” and “Agnus Dei” have carried the church through dark times and have filled the voids of the broken heart in ways that a bible verse cannot.
Perhaps worship leaders, songwriters, and composers should view themselves as today’s liturgists. While Protestant evangelical churches may lack the formal liturgy of traditional denominations, they have developed their own cultural rituals. Whether we realize it or not, our liturgy is continually being shaped—and it is shaping us in return.
Is there a way to rethink worship music so it can have a better impact on the church? Can we create worship music that forms Christians toward Christlikeness? I believe we can.
I suggest we approach worship music in three ways that can help us build a healthier relationship with it.
New Ways to Think of Worship Music
As Liturgy
Each generation inherits a culture and reshapes it to fit their way of life. Similarly,
Christianity isn’t invented from scratch but is passed down and refined by each generation. The church has filtered out the bad ideas from its liturgy, preserving what helps us become more loving, hopeful, and faithful. We have books filled with the prayers, poems, and songs of saints spanning 2,000 years. The songs that have endured did so because they consistently brought hope, joy, and faith to generation after generation.
So why not build on what’s been passed down?
Perhaps their songs are exactly what we need in our time, but we need you to serve them to us in a way that is crafted for our ears and voices.
Dive into church history. Learn about the prayers and songs that helped the church endure political upheaval, plague, or persecution. Borrow themes and central ideas that resonate with the current conversation. Perhaps their songs are exactly what we need in our time, but we just need someone to serve them to us in a way that is crafted for our ears and voices. This is where you come in!
Doing this contributes to the ongoing process of refining the liturgy of the church. Future generations will see what was important to us in our time and what we relied on for encouragement in difficult moments.
I’ve utilized The Prayer of John Chrysostom for a song called Consumed and The Prayer of Saint Patrick for the chorus of an upcoming EP. These two prayers are now embedded in my mind, regularly popping into my head, helping me recenter myself throughout the day. Isn’t that the point of liturgy in the first place?
As A Meditative Guide
In the modern West, music has shifted from a tool for social gatherings to a personal meditation device. The ability to play music only you can hear is a recent phenomenon in human society. This personal music has also shaped us. We use music to help regulate our moods, to help us focus, and often to fill the air so that things don’t feel so quiet.
Given that a chorus can get stuck in someone's head throughout the day, shouldn't we give a bit more consideration to what we ask people to sing? Most of us were taught to focus on writing a chorus that sticks in the brain, and to attach it to a catchy chorus. I don’t think this is bad. In fact, it is an ancient practice and it is how cultures pass down their stories and wisdom because it works like a mantra; repeating a concept or thought over and over again, sinking it into your heart where it will remain for the rest of your life. For me, there is an old song called “The Air I Breathe” that has attached itself different memories; a campfire in Virginia, a church gathering in New York, and a funeral in Tennessee. It has become a meditation that has carried me along. This is what worship music can do.
But if this is what we are doing, then perhaps we should put a bit more scrutiny into how the mantra’s-in-song shape the people who will be singing them.
And so again, I point to tradition. Prayers, creeds, and the writings of the apostles were created for this very purpose. Why not use them?
Find a way to get a piece of the Nicene Creed stuck in someone’s head.
Make an earworm out of the Doxology.
Re-introduce us to the prayers sung throughout the book of Revelation.
Your ideas don’t need to be original; perhaps it is better if they are not.
Let the wisdom of the church flow through your work. Be a vessel, not a guru.
You are a Part of Something Bigger
Worship leading, writing, and playing is a ministry of formation for the church. From our corporate worship music, we receive the prayers, poems, mantras, and meditative devices that guide our thoughts and center them on Christ. Our collective worship of Jesus, if it is not forming us towards him, is a capitalistic endeavor.
All of this is to say one thing: You are part of something bigger than you might think. If you’re not writing to form people towards the wisdom of the one holy, catholic, and apostolic church, then you may be unintentionally forming them towards the empires of this world, towards Babylon.