What’s the most popular Christian song sung in churches today? It’s called “Build My Life” from Bethel Music. The song was written in 2016 and has stood the test of a whopping seven years of longevity.
A new study on worship music “found that the lifespan of a hit worship song has declined dramatically in recent years.” There are reasons for this phenomenon. The research indicates that worship songs are made to “feed the algorithm.” In other words, they are intentionally written to supply a current need instead of embracing any sense of historical need. As one pastor observed:
“…the churn of worship music reflects the way Americans consume media in general, where ‘everything is immediate and has a short shelf life.'”
I suspect anyone reading my words for the last couple of years has a deep appreciation for my parody-like observations on such topics and is assured by my vivacious display of righteous anger toward the inevitable words above.
But I don’t want to simply use the above as some apologetic for despising Bethel or Hillsong. Hillsong, in particular, has undergone the agony of death a few thousand times these last few years. I don’t want to beat down a beaten foe, and I do leave room for common grace even music.
So, give me a couple of minutes to indoctrinate you just a bit. After all, it’s the only reason I have a Facebook account. It will be slow and painless. I promise. I will even tell a few stories. Then, I will be sure to close with some pertinent questions. So, stick around, kids!
Back in the 1990s–give or take a year or two before the rapture–I remember engaging a Christian radio program when I lived in Pennsylvania. The speaker had this remarkable voice filled with the sophistication of someone trained rhetorically under the best. He hailed from a town about an hour from where I was called Ligonier.
I kept tuning in every night, retiring early to ensure I was ready with a notebook before Robert Charles Sproul came on the scene heralded by “Sinfonia” from Handel’s Messiah. The whole thing was sublime, and coupled with Sproul’s elegance of delivery, it was theologically seductive, and I didn’t even know what “reformed” was at the time.
Part of my intrigue with Sproul was not only the gravitas of his delivery but the way he symphonically engaged the arts, theology, and culture–all three pieces ending with a major key of excellence. My wife and I spent some time attending his congregation in Sanford, and the sobering reality of the worship took my understanding of music to a whole new level.
I grew up thinking that music was preferential, a box of chocolate wherein you get what you get and hope for the best. If you want to feel young again and receive a double portion of the Spirit, then you visit your local mega-church with all the excellence of audio recording and a fine assembly of musicians to lead the way. And, in most cases, their voices can easily guide the whole song. It is like a monastery led by professional cantors. I do not minimize their work. It is well done unto the Lord.
In other cases, if you grew up with St. Fannie Crosby, then there is a pre-determined holy 25 classics that can be played repeatedly by your sweet pianist with all her flowery glory. When you sing those songs, you come to the garden alone and leave walking with Jesus. There is a certain addiction to those classics that is hard to erase in our evangelical culture.
I had the distinct privilege of being a part of both cultures, first as a singer in the congregation my father pastored in Brazil, which was a potpourri of highly emotional choruses with a blend of old hymns. Then, later in my Christian life, I had the joy of leading music at a Presbyterian Church using the RUF selection, which was hymns put into contemporary tunes.
As I walked through the music wars in various church contexts, I quickly realized that the entire conversation became a highly subjectivized dialogue. If you had the propensity to enjoy K-Love in your car rides, then your expectation was to enjoy it on Lord’s Day. If you had some classical background, then your expectation was also the same on Sundays. But the entire conversation lacked biblical rationale. It was not salted with the imagery of music in the Bible, especially in Israel’s worship.
What was unique about Israel’s worship was the incense of it (Ex. 30); a fragrance that did not match the smells of society. In short, it was other-worldly. Israel’s music shaped more than just the people’s emotions but their intellect and desires. God’s people sang to become something they were not before singing.
I remember leading music for a small group of parents on Reformation Day. I cavalierly mentioned that Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress” is probably one of the most sung and known throughout history since the Reformation. One sweet mom humbly offered her lack of knowledge. She had never sung such a hymn. I asked her afterward what she thought, and she gently told me it would take her some time to figure it out. I was enamored by her response. It was the right one.
You see, good church music is the kind that takes a while for you to figure out. It can’t be exhausted with a few guitar chords. It demands meditation and contemplation. For those of you who probably know me, you are aware of my musical dogma, but my point here is not to make a case for a 4th-century canticle, but to make the case for why the music you sing in the church ought to compel you to think about it; to slowly process its value and lyrics.
What church music ought to do is train you for life as a thinker and ethicist. What do you value? What do you think? Is it music that can be consumed quickly like a cigarette, or the kind that you grow into? I am arguing for the latter.
The current hit songs will last a little longer than a standard college degree. By then, people will move on. But they move on because the songs are not written for meditation or longevity, but for quick consumption. Is that what you want? Is that what you crave for your children one day? Do you want church music to be like a social media algorithm or the experience that you can go back to at grandma’s death-bed? When your grandchildren come to visit you one day, will you be able to sit together and sing the Psalms of Ascent as one, or will you happily submit to the generational segregation so prevalent? I beg you to give attention to these considerations.
