January 30, 2011

Someone Is Singing

Over the course of my lifetime (as brief as that may be, comparatively) I've witnessed countless debates concerning which "style" of worship is “better,” about which genre-like praise wins.

Is it "contemporary" worship? Should we set up a drum kit, plug in an electric guitar and a soundboard? Or maybe "traditional" music truly reigns supreme over the rest—it became a "tradition" because those who raised us (even those who raised the ones who raised them) decided that it did the best job, right?

As I've gotten older, though, I’m beginning to think that praise actually is not a competition. I simply cannot bring myself to believe that the human pursuit of glorifying our God is some sort of competition or contest, where the winning team gets more love or gratitude from God after the curtain finally goes down. 

First of all, God owes thanks to no one, much less in varying degrees. And His already-perfect love for each of us doesn't fluctuate depending on the songs we sing, just like it isn’t dependent on anything we do (or don't do). Thank the Lord for that, though, because each and every one of us would be forever condemned if we were left to our lone devices.

Instead, I’ve begun to think of worship, of sincere glorification of our God, as an art (maybe even the art).

One of art's most defining characteristics is that different human beings can relate to it. If a work of art is heartfelt and passionate then it will be relevant and meaningful to the artist. Moreover, when something like art is truly relevant to a soul, then other similar souls will respond alike. To me, that’s what it means when a work of art is truthfully “artful.”

That said, will every single form of art be considered “artful” by everyone? No, of course not— but those distinctions, those differing tastes (and the communities that evolve from them), make the realm of art that much more beautiful, bringing complement and contrast to the arrangement of flowers that we collectively offer to God.

                Who am I to think that I have perfected the art of praise? It is arrogant for me to claim, or even think, that a particular style of music is the penultimate end in the growth of human worship. It just seems wrong for me to sing along with my favorite praise songs and make the decision that the humane worship of the divine Creator has reached its personal zenith, that there is no room left for change or development.

I'm not trying to say that churches should exclusively play either traditional hymns or rock music. I mean, our Biblical forefathers didn’t have electric guitars or microphones— just like they didn’t have organs or choir tiers. 

It just sounds off to me, to tell someone that they ought to imitate my art, that their form of art isn’t “good” enough— especially when no human being (with only one exception) will ever be good enough.
 
Maybe how the songs are being sung doesn’t matter as much as we think.
Maybe what actually matters is that someone is singing them.


 

2 comments:

jnash said...

"First of all, God owes thanks to no one, much less in varying degrees. And His already-perfect love for each of us doesn't fluctuate depending on the songs we sing, just like it isn’t dependent on anything we do (or don't do). Thank the Lord for that, though, because each and every one of us would be forever condemned if we were left to our lone devices."

Can I have permission to quote this paragraph?

Jason Sears said...

Casey - I love this. Your words are genuine, and inspiring. I love the thought about art being relevant to a soul - other souls responding. I have the same thought in leadership - if it's a text that resonates in my heart/soul - then I'm able to lead effectively - and connect others with that same resonance. If I'm just singing a song - that I have zero connection with - it's harder to bring people along.

Keep writing. I love it.