[10/28/20]
This would seem as though it ought to be the least of matters to consider when it comes to defining the nature of the community worship of the Church, but because it is a matter of community it becomes a matter of contention. It is in our nature, I suppose, that where two or more are gathered, there you shall find three or more strongly held opinions on most anything. We manage to agree on God and Christ, but let there be the least hint of personal choice, and agreement is at an end. If this were an issue for us only when it came to the more difficult matters of theology and doctrine, we could retreat to our respective denominations and be at peace, both within our little group, and to a degree, with the Church at large. We might not get together often, but we could at least acknowledge our fellow standing amongst the children of God, in spite of our disagreements.
But this same individualism and insistence on personal preference as divine ordinance comes out in strength when we begin to consider matters of arts and artistry. Here, let me stress, I am thinking particularly of those arts and that artistry that are directly connected to the community worship of the Church. I will leave to one side the thought that whatever art and artistry we might pursue outside the setting of Church worship should likewise be informed by faith, just as our labors, whatever they might be, should be done as unto Christ.
The question before us here, though, is how should the arts apply to Church, rather than how Church should apply to the arts. What is acceptable, and what is not? Pose that question to the congregation, and the variations in answer would likely leave you despairing of resolution to anyone’s satisfaction, let alone to everyone’s. But the fact of the matter is we are not left with the bare question. The question must be asked with a clear, guiding comprehension, that the nature of community worship is not ours to define. Rather, it is ours to pursue in accordance with the desire of the Lord our God. He Who established the Church, of which He is the eternal Head, and the Church His body, has absolute say over the nature of her worship, and whatever application we might find for any art or skill in His Church, it is inherently, inescapably connected to worship.
This takes me back to a root point considered in looking at the physical plant. And let’s face it: A large part of how arts apply to the Church is in the design and décor of that physical plant. But the physical plant is a building with a purpose, a building dedicated, sanctified, set aside for God’s use. Whatever happens there, it ought to be connected with the worship of God, and service to Him. That may or may not include various programs for outreach, or schedules of education, or what have you. But if the central matter of God’s worship has been removed from the activity, then that activity, to my thinking, has no business taking place in the Church. Jesus, we well recall, took offense at the marketplace that had been set up in the courtyard of the Temple. Is the Church required to be a non-profit? Well, fundamentally, I would have to say the answer is yes. The Levites, the first of those dedicated to the service of God, did not pursue other vocations or other profits. Their livelihood was in God. That did not require vows of poverty, but it did require a specific focus of activity, and it required further a distinct trust in God for their provision.
I am wandering somewhat. Let me attempt to return to focus. We could start with the arts as applied to the structure, furnishing and fitting of that building called the Church. Of old, it seems there was recognition that all of these things ought to stir one to worship of God. The design of the old cathedrals was intended to draw our attention heavenward. It wasn’t there for us to admire the skill of the architect or the craftsman. The stained glass works, the murals and frescoes and the like, were not there to immortalize the name of their makers, but to honor God who created their makers.
Let me start with this, which may be something of a repeat point from earlier topics. God is not opposed to fine artistry. Look at His instruction for the tabernacle, or the design of His temple in Jerusalem. In the former case, as God lays out the first official place of worship, all is about artistry. Fine craftsmen are to be employed in the effort, and even they are of His choosing, and their skills augmented by His Holy Spirit. This is a special work. The place where God would meet His people would not be shabby, but would in its own way reflect His majesty and His holiness. That is to say, it was to provide a visual suggestion of His invisible attributes.
That phrasing must put us in mind that the same was intended for the whole of Creation, and we could do worse than to contemplate the Church as God’s first steps in reclaiming Creation. Here is the first fruits of the reborn race of mankind, but also, the first fruits of the new heavens and the new earth. Look at the descriptions given that new reality, and it, too, is a place of incredible beauty. But here, we must pause and set aside a certain notion that has become ingrown in the minds of man. Beauty is not, after all, in the eye of the beholder, but rather, beauty is defined by God every bit as much as Truth and Love and Peace and Righteousness are defined by God. We could as readily say God is Beauty as we say, in accord with Scripture, that God is Love.
If God is Beauty, then God gets to determine what is beautiful and what is not. Artistry lies not in transgressing societal norms and shocking the commoners, but in capturing and presenting that which God declares to be beautiful. This has got to be at the very core of our artistry, else our artistry is nothing but worldliness. This most assuredly ought to define such artistry as we bring to bear on the worship of the Church, which is to say, on the Church in any regard.
Historically, the Church has gone through phases in her understanding and expression of this reality. There have been those periods when churches were made as masterpieces of craftsmanship and artistry. One thinks, again, of the cathedrals of Europe, in particular, those towering, magnificent expressions of man giving their best to that which matters most: God and His worship. The fire at Notre Dame last year was tragedy not because it caused the loss of a fine building or a historical landmark. It was tragedy because that which it represented, the significant devotion of a population to God Almighty, is really long gone from that society, and as such, whatever might be rebuilt in its place has no hope of capturing its towering splendor. It’s not that the skills and the artistry have lapsed, although for some of the skills that built such an edifice, that may well be the case. It’s that the heart of the people who caused such an edifice to be built have been hollowed out by years of atheistic influences. Those who do not honor God in their hearts cannot hope to produce works of true beauty, in my estimation. They may create things that win them acclaim amongst people, but true beauty is something quite different.
Here, I must acknowledge that much of what I produce in my own pursuits of artistry stand equally assessed. I may create music that I enjoy, or that some small subset of listeners find worthwhile to listen to. They may not. What do I know? But is that product beautiful? That’s not in the ear of the listener, but in the ear, as it were, of God, even if these are not works produced as a matter of worship. In some cases, I am rather certain the answer is no. In some very few cases, perhaps one finds a yes.
So, then: Architecture viewed as artistry suggests that the architecture of the Church is not something we ought to subject to the whims of taste. Rather, it ought ever to express what God has in mind. Does this mean we should continue to have an inner temple, a holy of holies, as it were, where we keep God’s holiness separated from His people? I should think not. God Himself removed the veil and grants His people unfettered access to Himself, and the house of worship ought surely to reflect this reality. I do think that the house of worship ought rightly to be designed and detailed with one goal: To direct our focus to God. If we make the focus a projector screen, I am not at all clear how we can succeed in achieving a God-ward focus. If we have spotlights on the worship team, where shall we expect attention to be focused? I think one of the most wonderful things I ever saw in terms of the layout of worship was that Catholic church my brother attended for a season, in which the worship team took up their places in the balcony at the rear of the church. Brilliant! They are there to provide the soundtrack of worship, not to be the center of attention. The worshiper is left to contemplate not the musicians, but the God they worship.
[10/29/20]
What, then, of these more performative arts? While there are those churches which eschew all manner of instrumentation in favor of plain song, I see no call for that, nor a precedent. Worship in the temple of old certainly was filled with instrumentation. Even David’s early life as a shepherd, added instrument to voice as he sang unto God in the fields. I think we should have to recognize as well that these accompanying instruments were not played haphazardly, but with skill. And saying that, I find a strong desire to carefully qualify what I am saying.
There is a definite call for excellence in all that is done in the service of God’s glory. That certainly encompasses the realm of worship in all its facets, and perhaps particularly so in the case of worship by song. At the same time, it has to be said that no believer should find himself excluded from worshiping God in song for lack of professional voice training or the like. What I am coming to is that our definition of excellence, like our definition of beauty, may not quite align with God’s definitions, and where that is the case, it has to be God’s definitions that hold sway. It is, after all, His worship and His church.
As those who provide the musical backbone for worship, if I might describe it thus, we are called upon to give God our best, as is any worshiper. But we are also called upon to apply our skills skillfully, AND in the Spirit, as the phrase goes. Does that mean we go launching off in whatever musical direction happens to grab us in the moment? No. That’s not really the point. Worship in spirit and in truth. That’s the express desire of our Lord (Jn 4:24). It’s an interesting statement, isn’t it? And somewhat enigmatic. Jesus prefaces the declaration with “God is spirit.” That’s his explanation for why worship must be in this fashion if it is to be holy and acceptable.
Unpack the setting just a bit. He’s talking to the Samaritan woman, and she, as a Samaritan, has some differing interpretations of God’s plan. The Samaritans, whether as cause for the conflict, or in reaction to the conflict with the Jews who had returned from exile, did not concur with Jerusalem being the center of worship, the sole proper place to gather for holy days and the like. They were pretty sure Jacob’s well was the spot. They also could not help but recognize the severe animosity of the Jews towards their condition. They may not be Gentiles, but they were no longer pure in the Jews’ assessment, and having this alternate interpretation of worship didn’t help.
In light of that, and in light of the woman’s express notice of this point of contention as to where worship should take place, Jesus is effectively saying it’s not about the place. It was never about the place. It has to be said that this was a repeated failing for Israel. God set up Shiloh as the central gathering point for a season, but Israel came to think Shiloh was something, rather than God who selected Shiloh, and Shiloh therefore had to be destroyed, for it had become an idol which the people would not willingly turn loose. Jerusalem became much the same. I was reading the comparison to Shiloh being made by Jeremiah this morning. And the response from God would be much the same. Jerusalem would be made like Shiloh in outcome as it had been made like Shiloh in idolatry. Look at it! “If you will not listen to Me, to walk in My law, which I have set before you, to listen to the words of My servants the prophets, whom I have been sending to you again and again, but you have not listened; then I will make this house like Shiloh, and this city I will make a curse to all the nations of the earth” (Jer 26:4-6). And what was the reaction? It was the response of the idolater. He must die, for he has spoken against the city!
Jesus would experience much the same response in His turn and in that same city. “He spoke against the temple.” He must die. We see that same mindset in Jeremiah’s day. “Do not trust in deceptive words, saying, ‘This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD’” (Jer 7:4). This was the mindset. God’s temple is here. He will not abandon it. Therefore, we are safe, and we can ignore these dark forebodings. It played out again as Jerusalem was destroyed in 70 AD. Read Josephus’ account of the Jewish Wars, and one finds the citizens of Jerusalem doing the most deplorable things, and that right in the courtyards of the temple, and still assuming impunity because God would not let the building fall. You can see it again with Great Britain as its empire faded. They thought themselves the New Jerusalem, which in one season may have been a fair assessment, but like the Jews before them, they had come to view this as free license to be as cruel and vile as they pleased. And the glory of the LORD departed. I am somewhat inclined to accept that we are in a similar period in America today, although I pray that perhaps, for a change, we might hear the word of the Lord and repent. Yes, we were established as a city on a hill, but if the light has gone out, there’s not much reason to suppose God’s going to preserve the city. It’s not the city’s glory that is His concern, but His own glory which must be upheld.
Back to arts and worship, and to the question of the Samaritan woman. The message is plain: God is spirit. Location is not the point. He is everywhere at all times. Worship Him where and when you please. But understand this: Worship Him truly. If you do not worship Him truly, you worship an idol that you identify by His name, which is perhaps more egregious than offering no worship at all, or openly worshiping some other god. How one could be more egregious than infinite offense, I don’t know, but leave it be. The place isn’t the point. The accurate understanding of Who God Is, His character, His essence, and how He calls upon His people to respond? That’s important. That’s the point. And that is why we find not only truth – accuracy in understanding God’s nature and word – but spirit involved. Worship is of the heart, or it is not worship. Truth guides our choice of the proper object for worship in God. Spirit gives indication that our worship is true and heartfelt, not a matter of ritualistically going through the motions.
This does not preclude liturgy. The temple had its liturgy. Indeed, it could be said the whole cycle of life in Israel’s year had its liturgy. What was the schedule of feasts but liturgy? What was the weekly gathering at synagogue, and observance of the Sabbath, but liturgy? What was the practice of touching God’s word upon the lintel of the house, meditating by day, teaching one’s children from Torah, all of these aspects of living the life of God’s people, but liturgy? The only difficulty with liturgy is when it becomes empty reaction to stimuli. We are told to stand, we stand. We stand until somebody thinks to tell us we should sit. We sing because there is song, and this is expected, but the words being sung don’t really enter into our consciousness. We’re more focused on the notes, the harmonies. Perhaps we’re distracted by the volume, either because it’s too high or too low. Perhaps we’re too caught up in assessing the talents of those singers and musicians who are seeking to guide us into a place of worship. Perhaps we’re simply too familiar with the norms of concert going to recognize that this is not that. We may be worshiping, and we may even be worshiping in truth. But we are falling far short of worshiping in spirit.
I can’t help but observe that in all of that, I am looking not at the artist in his artistry, but the congregation in its participation. But the same has to go for the artist. What is he doing and how is he doing it? As an instrumentalist, I feel this keenly enough. It is hard, if not impossible, to be in deep contemplation of the words when one must remain focused on tempo and key, and where one’s place in the accompaniment is. But it is not impossible! Or it shouldn’t be. I don’t think those Levites leading the congregation of Israel remained aloof from the words that were being sung. I don’t think that the need to remain aware of one’s contribution precludes appreciating and taking and participating in the actual worshipfulness of worship. One is, perhaps, precluded from becoming ‘lost in worship’, but then, I’m not sure that’s all that appropriate for this matter of community worship in the first place. If we’re all lost in the moment and so wrapped up in our little cocoon of worship that we’ve lost all awareness of those around us, how is this still community?
I confess I have mixed feelings about this. There is something utterly beautiful, at least to me, about that place of abandonment in worship. I have to say that even as a member of the worship team, I am inclined to seek that place. I love those moments when I am able to simply close my eyes and worship with voice or instrument, or even in silence. But this does not require that I lose all awareness of where we are in the song, nor of my fellow worshipers. I have to say, there is perhaps nothing more satisfying than hearing the heart-felt worship in the voices rising from the congregation at large, as the true spirit of worship takes form among us. This is not free-for-all cacophony. It may not even be harmony in any proper sense, but rather the sound of many voices expressing the shared worship of many individuals in the common, melody notes of a shared song. And it is utterly powerful. It sweeps over, sweeps one up, and sweeps one in, and it is glorious. And I have no doubt, God is pleased to be enthroned upon such praises, even if it includes voices not all that well trained, and perhaps a tad off key.
This is, I think, the heart of worship in spirit in truth as it applies to the offering of song in the context of community worship. It does not preclude the worship team from offering periods when but one singer is singing, or when no voice sings at all, but an instrumental interlude presents instead. It’s not so much what is being done, but why. And for those not actively contributing to the what in that moment, are they contributing to worship in spirit and truth, or are they contributing to worshiping in a spirit of performance art? If we are to be lead worshipers, then it must be the former. If we are not ourselves entering into that place of worshiping in spirit and in truth during these more passive moments, how can we expect those served by our efforts to do so?
What does that mean? At minimum, it means we are doing something more than counting time, or following the imaginary bouncing ball along the page in front of us waiting for our moment to come back in. It might mean giving expression to personal notes of praise while remaining suitably within the context of the song. If all are doing it at once, then I think the admonition to Corinth probably applies. Decency and order remain the shape of God’s worship. But there’s a place for the voice of adlib, or the musical adlib. There’s a place for allowing a chorus to repeat even if the official flow of the song does not suggest it, or – dread as the suggestion might seem – to drop a bit as unnecessary.
I think the point I am attempting to deliver here is that artistry in worship, particularly for those whose place in the liturgy is to lead – and this must be leading by example – is not an option, but a necessity. We ought to be honing our skills so as to offer our best unto God. We ought to be continually mindful that, whether practicing or actively serving in worship, it is unto God. We don’t worship for the people of God, although we serve the people of God by serving in worship. No, we worship for God. We sing to God. We play for God. And as such, our arts are both directed to Him, an offering of our first and best, and also directed by Him, that He may indeed inhabit the praises of His people, and that He might use us as His instruments of worship. That, after all, is really our place in the program. That must mean that, in spite of occupying a place of high visibility, and in spite of such responsibility as falls to us in our role as worship facilitators, our worship is highly cognizant of the true God, directed towards God in truth, and expressed from a heart wholly involved in this act of worship. That must mean that we cast aside any sense of performance in utter subjection to a very real and sensate participation in deep, heartfelt worship of most worthy, most holy God, in accordance with His desires and in keeping with His directions.
[10/30/20]
I want to turn my thoughts next to some of those other performative arts that may on occasion make their way into the service of worship to our God. I suppose the chief example there must be that of dance. There are churches and denominations which would find the very idea of dance as an act of community worship (or even private amusement) a questionable matter. There are others that would actively promote it. They might even go so far as to have a dance team, as it were, to serve in some more or less official capacity in the course of the service of worship.
I don’t find either of these positions particularly compelling. The argument from one side would be to note that David danced before the Lord, and this is quite certainly true (2Sa 6:14-16). He danced before the people of God, and did so in the course of a very particular activity involving the ark of God’s covenant being brought into Jerusalem. One question that must be asked is whether this counts as a community service of worship, and then, if we decide it does, is there any sense that this is intended to be normative?
I suppose we must start with this. David did no sin in dancing. Michal’s disgust with the deed expresses nothing of godliness, and everything of pride. It’s undignified, in her view. It’s not princely, and thus, not befitting the son-in-law of the king; certainly not the one who would be king. She could, in this assessment, not possibly care less about God or God’s opinion. He doesn’t enter into her equation. God, we can note has nothing negative to say about this. Nor, for that matter, does He have anything positive to say about it. It is noted. Michal’s reaction is noted. The narrative moves on.
But I can observe this as well: In moving on, we move directly to offerings made at the tabernacle: A peace offering that coincides with blessing the people in the name of the LORD of hosts (1Sa 6:19). It may not have been the typical time or format, but this would certainly seem to have the hallmarks of public, community worship. Offerings are given on the altar. Blessings are pronounced. Food is shared. God is honored. Yes. All the ingredients would seem to be there. And as to Michal, something is said by God in regard to her assessment of the matter. She remains childless all her life (2Sa 6:23), which would have then, and perhaps ought now to be seen as some evidence of God’s displeasure.
Let me expand briefly on that statement in hopes of clarity. I am certainly not going to say that everyone who finds it impossible to conceive is necessarily under a curse from God, anymore than I would hold that every sickness is de facto evidence of God punishing the sick one. Jesus pulled the plug on that line of thinking, and that must apply here as well. That said, we have the Adamic Covenant with the command therein to go forth and multiply. We can stack upon that the great care taken to make certain that every son of every tribe of Israel retains his lot in the land. Descendants become rather necessary to both the command and the concern. You can’t multiply except through childbirth. And frankly, let’s hope it stays that way. You can’t retain your lot if there is no heir to whom you can leave it. And there can be no proper heir, again, apart from childbirth. These things being so, it’s easy to understand why barrenness was such a concern for the people in general, and for royalty in particular. God intends Abraham to have many sons. This happens, assuming the normal course of life, through the producing of progeny, and the unfruitful branch, to shift over to Jesus’ parable of the vine, is cut off and cast in the fire.
Now I don’t know that we would recognize the same sense of concern for God’s judgment in this situation today. Some might, and I suspect perhaps we should. But I don’t think we do. Some would account it a blessing that they need not be concerned with reproducing and taking on the burdens and expenses that attend thereupon. Many would likely seek the help of medical technology, and perhaps even the involvement in some fashion of a surrogate, to do an end-run around this limitation in their own body. I suspect it’s only a very few who might think to seek God on the matter, discover if there is anything in themselves of which they ought to repent, or what, exactly, God’s purpose might be in this situation.
But this strays rather far afield from performing arts and their place in the church. Let us return to topic. Is there a place for dancing? I think the answer must be yes, but I think there are boundaries to be observed. It is, in my mind, one thing for a worshiper to be so caught up in the worship of God, particularly as we are singing songs of worship which may, in their words, place a certain emphasis on physical postures of worship. “We raise our hands.” “We bow down.” Those certainly suggest actions that might lend a certain authenticity to our words, and some are assuredly inclined to supply that authenticity. It makes more sense, I have to admit, than standing all stoic and still while loudly singing about how you leap for joy in the Lord. This is, I think, entirely natural, and hopefully has no intent to draw focus to oneself. It is a place of abandonment and not of advertisement.
But how does this apply if the dancer is brought forward to dance in front of the congregation? Does the dancer still dance to worship God? I see no reason to suppose otherwise. Does the congregation yet participate in an act of community worship? That is much harder for me to see. It’s the same issue that may beset the worship team in the course of presenting music by which to worship God. If the team backs down to a single voice, is the congregation yet clear that this does not advise them to shift to audience, but that their active participation in this service of worship continues? If the voices cease and instruments play on for a time, is this a call to enjoy and appraise the instrumentalist and his or her skill? No. It’s a time to worship. That may continue in private song, as you will, much like our community prayers may be led by one, but leave a period in which each prays his own matters. It may be silent or not. Personally, I find preference for the silence over the cacophony of many prayers sounding at once, and I think that in keeping with the instruction to Corinth a bit of order is fitting here. But I don’t find it so compelling as would lead me to denounce the practice of many voices praying different prayers simultaneously, nor do I suppose that somehow renders it harder for God to assess than if we did our prayers in silence.
I’ll go a further step. In many ways, it can prove more encouraging to prayer, and more encouraging to worship generally, to hear these many voices in their personal expressions of praise and concern to God. The silence of a moment of silent prayer, while necessary and suitable where we are calling for confession of personal sins, can be one of the most difficult and awkward moments of worship, leaving us most prone to wander in our thoughts.
Coming back to the service of worship in music, those moments of musical interlude ought rightly to serve as times for personal expression of praise unto God. Let it be done in keeping with the shared context of that song, but you don’t need the overhead to tell you what to say to God. You don’t need the composer’s words to express yourself. Lift every voice and sing! I tell you, this is God-honoring, heart-felt worship in spirit and in truth, and even if every last man, woman, and child in that congregation chooses to participate, it can remain a matter that is decently done and in order, and when the song resumes, we can once more take up our unified declaration of God’s glory in the lyrics provided. But to stand there wondering what to do? That, I hate to say, suggests to me that you didn’t know what you were there to do in the first place.
Circle back to dance. How is the congregation to participate in this display set before them? Is this a call for everyone to take the aisles and dance along with the dancers? Is there a way for this to be done which is in fact pleasing to God? Is there a way for this to be done which remains, on the part of each worshiper, a voluntary, heart-felt offering of praise? I honestly don’t know. I don’t see it, but that could as readily be a matter of my own preferences. I don’t see any great support for this in the descriptions of worship we have in Scripture. I do see a great cause for concern that what should be a shared expression of worship devolves into an audience watching a show, and that quite simply ought never to be the case in the service of worship.
That holds whether we contemplate song or dance or any other matter. At some level, that has to apply even with the preaching of the Word. The Word preached is not a time for us to sit back in audience mode. It risks us sitting in judgment, as it were, on the preparation and skill of the pastor. It's one thing to say we ought to hear his words with an ear to assessing the truth of them, but not with skepticism. Any man’s pronouncements, particularly those made with a claim of God’s truth behind them, must needs be tested against God’s revealed truth. If what is suggested is not in line with what is written, then what is suggested is to be rejected. But we are far more likely to make our critique on style than on content, aren’t we? Oh, I didn’t like that example. Oh, that anecdote was amusing. Ah, yes! Glad he chose to emphasize that point. Which sadly, tends to be followed in our thinking with, sure hope so and so caught that. They really need that message. But through it all, what are we doing, other than to hold ourselves aloof and, if anything, avoid hearing what that message may be saying to us? We become not participants in worship, but observers remaining outside, and that is never the intent of community worship in any of its component parts.
I could move on to variants of the dance issue, such as the inclusion of things like flags, banners, and other fabrics utilized in the course of song or dance as an act of worship. Look. I can see the beauty in some of these things, when they are done skillfully. I can also see the inanity, when they are done rather unartfully but with great enthusiasm. More to the point, I can see them becoming a distraction to our fellow worshiper particularly when done from the pews, where one’s neighbors must become concerned for personal safety as you lose your peripheral awareness. But if a place is made for such activities done in worship? If it’s perhaps to the side, or to the rear, where it doesn’t risk making itself the center of attention, rather than turning the attention to God? I could accept it. The thing is, in practice this tends not to be the case. It rather becomes an undulating scene at the front of the church, and let’s face it: The waving of these flags and sashes and such is, by its very nature, designed to catch attention. I am not at all certain that this could be described or done in any such way as serves to draw one’s fellow congregants closer to God, render their hearts more attuned to God, or really, in any way serve one’s fellow congregant in their worshipful approach to the throne of God.
[10/31/20]
This may be the root issue to consider in all matters of arts in the service of worship. Are they in the service of? That, as we consider matters of community worship, is at least as great a question as whether they are expressions of. This is a distinction necessary to be made between private and community worship. To be sure, our participation in community worship ought to be a personal, and in that sense private act of worship. But it is not done in disregard for our fellow believer, but with a heart of service both unto God and unto His body, the Church.
This mindset is informed by Paul’s discussions with the Corinthian church, which suffered greatly from disorder in worship. And that disorder, as becomes quite plainly visible, was in large part due to a self-centered disregard for one’s fellow believer. Community worship had become a spiritual Olympics of sorts, a competition to be won. It was a place of pride and self-serving advertising of one’s spirituality. God, to put it mildly, was not pleased. The sum of His corrective word, sent through Paul, was simple: Do all to edify. “So also you, since you are zealous of spiritual gifts, seek to abound for the edification of the church” (1Co 14:12). Turn that to the current topic. So also you, since you are zealous to dance before the Lord, and wave your banners before the Lord, seek to abound for the edification of the church. Turn it to the worship team, the pastor, and those others who, in their office and role, are tasked most directly with the guidance of worship. You also: Since you are zealous to turn your arts to the Lord’s use, seek to abound for the edification of the church.
How that should inform the preaching, and similarly, the lyrics of the songs chosen, the choice of passages being read, and so on, is relatively clear. I must hold with the understanding that it is the preaching of God’s Word which must have central focus in the service of worship insofar as that preaching is God’s chosen means of speaking to His people. He has gifted this pastor with understanding, with careful concern for the sheep entrusted to him for this season, however long this season may be, and with instruction suited to those sheep in the season they are in. With that in mind, it is fitting that other aspects of community worship are shaped to allow all who participate to prepare their hearts to hear what is to be preached.
I have been in places where the musical part of the service was effectively wholly detached from the sermon unless God chose to orchestrate the matter. But as often as not, it was effectively a separate sermon with a separate focus. I don’t know that this was all bad, but it does present something of a competition between the two portions of worship, and it is clear from observing the behavior of the congregation that sides are taken. There would be those come late to avoid the music (perhaps only because the volume was excessive in this case, perhaps not to taste, who knows the reasons?) and those whose attention would wander, if not their feet, when the music ended.
To be fair, as I now serve in a body that is far more careful to ensure that the music and prayer and readings and the like are all shaped in service to the sermon, these same tendencies can be observed. Again, it is beyond us to know all the reasons people may do as they do, other than to recognize that we are all still sinners for all that we seek to be holy. But what can be said is it that it cannot be laid to the worship team having its own agenda.
So, for all who contribute to the worship of God, whether as serving in some more or less official capacity or whether as congregants, this guiding principal must remain. Is my act of worship such as serves to edify, or is it such as demonstrates utter disregard for my brother and my sister? Am I in some way helping them to lift their eyes and hearts heavenward, or are my actions, for all their piety, saying, “Look at me!”? Here, a great deal of introspection and a willingness to hear the correcting voice of the Spirit our Advocate and Tutor are most necessary. For we are entirely too happy to paint our actions in the most flattering light. We are quite sure our motives are pure, because however much we insist that all men are sinners, we’re somehow convinced there’s an exception in our case, at least most of the time, and surely when we’re at church if nowhere else. Well, in this case, I think the ‘if nowhere else’ is probably the controlling factor, and as it doesn’t apply anywhere else, the likelihood that exception pertains at church is vanishingly small.
Personally, and I stress it is personal perspective and not in any way a doctrinal stance, I don’t see how waving flags and banners and the like is going to edify anybody, including the one doing the waving. What is this telling me about God? How is this informing my heart or my mind about the glory of God, about His sovereignty, about His holiness? I think I could about see how this has its place in celebration of a specific and particularly potent move of God on behalf of His people. I think of those occasions, such as the crossing of the Red Sea, when Pharaoh and his army were swallowed up and Israel emerged safe on the other side. To be sure, there was explosive celebration in that camp. Miriam sang and danced. Moses sang and quite possibly danced. Tambourines were waved and banged, and it was a noisy, ecstatic affair. And I think we should have to say it was a heartfelt expression of worship unto God, and most assuredly public, shared with the whole community of God’s people. There may have been bits of fabric waving about in the course of that display. Why not? God has done a great thing, the relief of God’s people is palpable, even if the course ahead is a giant unknown. But does this give cause for such display in a more liturgical, on the regular course of worship? Does it yet mark some significant action on God’s part, or is it just that point in the program where the dancers come forward and do their thing? Is the congregation edified, or merely entertained?
The argument will be made that worship is primarily, if not exclusively, unto God and for God. That is certainly true. Worship that is not unto God is idolatry, and a gross offense even outside the church, most assuredly so within. But again we have to come back to this: If worship is for God, then it is, or ought to be, necessarily in accordance with God’s design and God’s declared order of worship. Our service of worship is not some freestyle, express yourself as you please affair, though it is most thoroughly volitional. Our votive offering of praise is not, cannot be an expression of self-will, but rather an expression of willing submission to the Lordship of Christ. It is HIS service of worship, not ours. It is HIS church, not ours. It is HIS body, not ours. If we would honor the Head, it does no good to offer things He does not desire or approve. If we would honor the Head, we must likewise honor the body. Honor is done the body when we bend our desire for self-expression to the service of edification; when we are more concerned with building up our brothers than with maintaining our rights. I must once more go back to that wonderful book regarding missionaries and their necessary mindset: “You have no rights.”
If we can come to our service of worship, in whatever capacity it is that we participate, with that mindset; if we can, for this brief moment, set aside our agenda and our preference and our neediness, and instead cast our thoughts outward towards our neighbors in the pew, or across the aisle, or even on the other side of the dais, if that applies; what a change that would make in our participation and our appreciation alike!
This gets serious. As an instrumentalist, I can turn to my own contributions. When there comes a musical interlude, and I am at liberty to play a somewhat more conspicuous role for a few bars, how do I respond? How ought I to respond? Is it a sense of, finally, something I can sink my teeth into? If that’s all it is, I should stay home. There’s plenty of music that offers opportunities to show whatever chops one may have. It doesn’t need to happen here. Is it so that my fellow parishioners can appreciate my skills? Then I have no business being up here at all. But that does not preclude me giving my best to the effort, and allowing those skills, such as they may be, to shine as brightly as they are able. What it does preclude is self-serving display. It is done unto God with an eye toward aiding my fellow believers turn worshipful hearts towards Him, or it is done as a great disservice to God and brother alike. How am I to achieve this? The best I can offer at this juncture is that care must be taken that these musical expressions are indeed expressions of a heart caught up in worship of God, but also in keeping with the shared experience of that stage of worship we are in.
I have to say, this can be a huge challenge for me. The style of play that befits a saxophone does not always suit the sort of song we are likely to play, or the style in which it is played. One can opt to play according to one’s own tastes, and it will perhaps more or less fit the general layout of the song, but it is not contributing; rather detracting. That may go unnoticed by many. Then again, it may be noticed far more than is mentioned. Sometimes, the proper contribution to make is that of silence. Some songs, much as it may confound my sensibilities, really don’t need a saxophone, nor do they benefit by its addition. And when those moments come where the instruction is effectively, “insert solo here,” it’s not a show. It’s not a call to flash your fastest, wildest playing, or to take the song in some entirely orthogonal direction. It’s an opportunity to express unto God, without words, one’s heartfelt, loving worship of Him, and in so doing, to give opportunity to those with us to express themselves unto God, in their own fashion. It need not be vocalized, but it could be. It could be, effectively, a Selah moment for them; a chance to pause and contemplate what they have been saying to God and to one another in the course of this song of worship. It’s a moment to take it to heart, let it sink in deeply. And if my solo serves rather to yank people out of contemplating the message to instead focus on my offering, then I have failed them as I have failed myself and my God.
The same can be said of those who lead by voice. They can sing so as to lead others into the message of the song and into worship of God, or they can sing so as to turn the focus onto the singing. We are none of us immune to that, “look at me!” tendency. The same can be said of any random congregant. By your participation or lack thereof, you either seek to edify or you seek your own end. I could say it a bit more harshly and remain accurate, I think. You either seek to edify, or you practice idolatry, and that, in the very house of God.
I will put a small aside here, if only because it has been much on my mind in recent weeks. Our time of community worship is not a thing that comes as a surprise in our schedule. It is not a spur of the moment announcement by the church that we shall be coming together at such and such a time on such and such a day. It’s as regular as clockwork. How is it, then, that we find the great majority of attendees are chronically late? I could write it off to the need to get children ready and the like in some cases. But then, I should have to note that much larger families don’t seem to be having that issue. I also can’t help but observe that it seems to require rather precisely as much too long to prepare week by week.
We have one brother in particular, whom I can’t help but notice arrives pretty much exactly a half hour late every week. I can’t help but notice because he then proceeds to hike his way to the very front row to seat himself. It’s rather hard to miss, and as one who serves on the worship team, it’s rather hard not to take that as stinging commentary on our contribution. In honesty, I don’t think that’s intended, but it has that effect of leaving one to wonder what we ever did to him, that he seeks to avoid us so. My point is not to single this gentleman out. Perhaps, I should ask him what his deal is, but that’s not my concern here. What I would say, however, is this, too, is an act undertaken in the course of community worship. It may not be the arts, but it’s participatory, or anti-participatory as the case may be. Does it edify, or does it distract? Does it demonstrate concern for one’s brothers, or concern only for self?
Again: This has to be our guiding principal. God has made it sufficiently clear. We worship according to His desire, His prescription, else we worship something other than God. His prescription insists that we account others more important than ourselves, that we lead by serving, and for all that, we serve by serving. We worship in submission to God, in that mutual submission that is to be modeled first and foremost in marriage, but also, I should think, in this larger context of the gathered bride. I think I shall end this section rather as I ended my considerations of communion. If we should all come to the house of worship with this mindset, how different might our experience of God’s presence among us be?
