Around the Horn

At first, here’s an article by Jim Hamlett on preaching. It addresses the ratio between the Bible and the rest in contemporary preaching. I remember preachers growing up who were story tellers. I remember someone commenting on another preacher saying, “He could tell a good story.” Brother preachers, we need to give serious consideration to the place of the Word in our preaching. The text of the Bible must not be reduced to a mere foundation, or worse yet, a prop. It is the Word of God.

At second, since no sermon is done until you conclude, here’s a good short article on on sermon conclusions. Conclusions probably get less attention than they should. They are looser than they should be. They are probably more shotgun than rifle. And it’s all probably a lack of focus and adequate study. Enough said. (How’s that for a really bad conclusion.)

At third, here’s a funny and good piece on the language we use as Christians. Let’s face it, some of it is just weird.

Winding up, here’s an NPR piece on music which is fascinating. Ryan Martin originally pointed to this. It shows some of the easily overlooked issues in discussions on music. Let’s face it: there’s a lot of stupid stuff that is being said about music. This piece provides some good input.

An Accidental Admission?

Mars Hill pastor Mark Driscoll writes a recent article about 16 things he looks for in a preacher. There's actually some pretty interesting stuff here, worthy of some consideration.

But there is what can only, to me at least, be regarded as an accidental admission. He says,

If we do wedding songs after a funeral sermon, I’m emotionally confused. Likewise, if we’re singing melancholy hymns after a big motivational sermon, I’m also emotionally confused. So, you and the guy in skinny jeans with the guitar have got to get this figured out together.

What's this?

It sounds to me like an admission that music has meaning. After all "wedding songs" and "melancholy hymns" are descriptions of music, and an acknowledgement that certain types of music don't fit certain occasions.

This seems a point we should all recognize. And in fact, we probably all do.

I think this statement by Driscoll is at the heart of the music discussions that are (increasingly less frequently) taking place in churches.

Now I can be remarkably flexible about what music you and your church use. Of course that doesn't mean I would use it. It simply means that God hasn't appointed me the bishop over your church.And you might not use the same music or kind of music I would use. I am actually okay with that.

But we need to quit with the silly little comments that "music is neutral" or "any kind of music is okay if you put good words to it."

My guess it that you don't believe that when you put your kids to bed at night. And you don't believe that when you are in the gym getting a good hard workout. And you don't believe it when you are taking your wife out for a nice romantic dinner.

So why pretend like we believe it at church?

On Classical Music

I finally got a chance to watch this this morning. It’s excellent and instructive in a number of ways which others have pointed out. I would venture to say that most people who claim to hate classical music have probably never listen to much of it, if any.

What this reminds me of is the fact that music communicates without any words whatsoever. Chopin doesn’t need lyrics to tell us what kind of emotions or attitude to have during the music. Words or explanation can enhance that, to be sure. But no one listens to this Chopin prelude to get hyped up for a basketball game. Listening to this piece tells you why without any explanation.

It reminds me of another of my favorite pieces of music, the Moonlight Sonata. One only needs to listen to it to understand why it’s not entitled “Victory Parade” or “Wedding March.” It does not need a single word to communicate to us how utterly incompatible it is with either occasion. It’s not even “Sunlight Sonata” for obvious reasons. And my guess is that has nothing to do with culture. It’s instinctive.

This short lecture also reminds me how effectively music communicates expectations. This lecturer demonstrates that when he asks everyone to sing the next note, and everyone knows what that note is … Except it isn’t. Chopin actually goes somewhere else.

In musical terms, I explain it this way. The tonal, or the I chord (for instance, the C chord in a piece written in the key of C) clearly signifies the end of a phrase (and often a piece). So when a piece goes to the F chord (or the IV chord, so called because it is four musical steps up from the I or the C chord), everyone knows that it isn’t the end. There needs to be some resolution. But no one has to explain that. It needs no words. The music itself tells you that. There’s nothing immoral about a IV chord. It is a necessary part of any music. It just doesn’t fit in certain places. (This can be easily demonstrated on a piano or guitar, but I don’t feel like recording that here and now.)

In life terms, I explain it this way: You are coming down the steps in the middle of the night and you think you have reached the bottom. And all your weight is positioning itself for that next step which is exactly on the same level as the last step. Except that there is one more step. I did this one night. I fell on my face in the living room floor. Fortunately there was no one there to see it, and if you ever repeat this story, I will deny it. But suffice it to say that I had an expectation that wasn’t met.

Music does that. It creates expectations, without any words. And when those expectations aren’t met, it jars us a bit at some level.

His playing of the Chopin piece is great in that in the middle of it there is a distinct section that gets a bit more energetic, or dare I say, agitated. And yet no one needs to say, “Here comes the agitation, or the change.” We don’t need words. The music itself tells us that.

Another one of my favorite works is Holst’s The Planets. Fabulous music, in my opinion. Particularly Mars. Compare that with the Chopin Prelude that is found on this video. And ask yourself which you would put your baby to sleep with, and why. And it won’t take an advanced degree in music to answer that.

So what’s my point in this whole thing?

My point is that the idea that music is “amoral” and can be used for anything at anytime depending on what words you put with it is so utterly absurd that it is laughable that anyone suggests that. Music needs no words to communicate with us.

By saying that, I am not saying (at this point) that any type of music is inherently sinful or wicked. That’s not my point at all. I am not even saying that the response to music is universal … that all people in all cultures understand music the exact same way. My point is that some types of music are inappropriate for some things, and we do not need to lyrics to know that. It is self-evident.

(BTW, listen to this and try to figure it out before the words start. And don’t cheat by looking at the mouseover that shows the link. Seriously, it makes me laugh how utterly incompatible the music and the words are. And at this point I am not saying anything about the music style.)

Now there is a lot of meat here to chew on and expound on and my point isn’t to do that. Perhaps later I will broach this again.

I would only say this: Don’t say that music is amoral and that any type of music can be used for anything depending on what words you put with it.

No thinking person believes that. If someone does believe that, it’s only because they aren’t thinking. They are simply trying to defend the indefensible.

Strong? Sure. But self-evident.

And if you doubt that, go look and see what type of music they play at different times in their day and in their lives. See what they put their babies to bed with and what they put on the Ipod to exercise to. See what they listen to when they are emotionally down. You will see that they instinctively know that certain types of music create certain types of atmospheres and moods.

Music communicates in and of itself. It teaches us what to think. BTW, that’s why movie music works. It teaches you what to think about what is going on on the screen in front of you. The narrator need not say, “Be scared right now.” The music says it all by itself. 

I wish I had a good ending for this, but I don’t, so let me just get to the I chord and say “Bye for now.”

Carson on Worship Leaders

The notion of a "worship leader" who leads the "worship" part of the service before the sermon (which, then, is no part of worship!) is so bizarre, from a New Testament perspective, as to be embarrassing. ... I know that "worship leader" is merely a matter of semantics, a currently popular tag, but it is a popular tag that unwittingly skews people's expectations as to what worship is. At very least, it is misleadingly restrictive.

He then follows this up with a footnote:

Perhaps this is the place to reflect on the fact that many contemporary "worship leaders" have training in music but none in Bible, theology, history, or the like. When pressed as to the criteria by which they choose their music, many of these leaders finally admit that their criteria oscillate between personal preference and keeping the congregation reasonably happy--scarcely the most profound criteria in the world. They give little or no thought to covering the great themes of Scripture, or the great events of Scripture, or the range of personal response to God found in the Psalms (as opposed to covering the narrow themes of being upbeat and in the midst of "worship"), or the nature of biblical locutions (in one chorus the congregation manages to sing "holy" thirty-six times, while three are enough for Isaiah and John of the Apocalypse), or the central historical traditions of the church, or anything else of weight. If such leaders operate on their own with little guidance or training or input from senior pastors, the situation commonly degenerates from the painful to the pitiful (From Worship by the Book, p. 47).

I wonder if the seemingly typical service where all the "preliminaries" are led by the "music guy" and the pastor sits stoically in his throne-like seat on the platform until it is his time to preach contributes to the notion that the he is disconnected from and disinterested in the musical worship, or maybe that singing is simply preliminary and the pastor is saving himself for the important stuff. Perhaps there is a better way.

I think there are some good reasons to have the pastor involved in the musical part of the worship, if nothing else through the introduction of songs to explain the theological basis or the role of a particular song at a particular point in the sequence, or the leading of the congregation in reading related passages of Scripture, etc.

Perhaps some variety is in order. There are times when I love to sit back and sing and worship without the burden of leading others. But I do not think I would want to be totally uninvolved.

Over the past few years, I have given this increasing attention, and have formulated some of my own ideas and practices to teach people singing is not just preliminary, and preaching is not something that happens after we worship.

We must better communicate that the music is more than a way to pass time until the important stuff. And we must communicate that the preaching is just as much worship as the singing is.

Worshunk??

In this except from a new book, a Christian band member speaks of their music being “worshunk,” a “mixture of worship and pop punk.”

Excellent. Creative. Transcendent. Glorious. Relevant.

Whatever.

“Worshunk” strikes me as the end (or perhaps only the middle) of the idea that attaching some spiritual terminology to anything sanctifies it for Christian worship.

And vulnerability is key. I know Paul left it out of the fruit of the Spirit, but that was probably an oversight on his part. He surely meant to include it, since it is the key to spiritual growth and effective ministry.

Now I don’t doubt the usefulness of vulnerability. I find it helpful, particularly to gain some points from others when I am looking for emotional support in my quest for character, or at least acceptance. If people see me as vulnerable, they will surely respect me more, and be willing to open up and hear my story. You know, of course, that the words of Scripture are to no avail if we are not vulnerable.

Now, perhaps this band member is simply a product of the author’s imagination. Perhaps … but it is believable, and that may be the biggest irony, since I am not sure the author is setting out to show the silliness of much of contemporary worship.

The truth is that this chapter is a good demonstration of the silliness of a lot of what goes on in Christian music, and Christianity in general. People have come up with the idea that if we are serious about junk, it really isn’t junk.

And that, my friends, is an insight you should take to your next dining out adventure. Don’t worry about propriety, cleanliness, and quality. In fact, don’t even worry if what is on your plate is the same thing you ordered. Just ask if your server is well-meaning.

Don’t ask if your mechanic is qualified, whether he (or she, because the field of mechanicdom is certainly egalitarian) knows the difference between an alternator and an oil-pan. Just ask if he is sincere.

Truth be told, I found this chapter is a bit humorous, not in a LOL kind of way, but rather in a silly-grin, roll-your-eyes kind of way. And I would actually like to read the book, though I am not particularly interested in buying it since it doesn’t look like a “keeper.”

Yes, I am cheap. I only like to buy books that I think will have ongoing benefit in some way or another. And this looks like a one-time read for fun just before bed.

Carson on Worship Leaders

The notion of a "worship leader" who leads the "worship" part of the service before the sermon (which, then, is no part of worship!) is so bizarre, from a New Testament perspective, as to be embarrassing. ... I know that "worship leader" is merely a matter of semantics, a currently popular tag, but it is a popular tag that unwittingly skews people's expectations as to what worship is. At very least, it is misleadingly restrictive.

He then follows this up with a footnote:

Perhaps this is the place to reflect on the fact that many contemporary "worship leaders" have training in music but none in Bible, theology, history, or the like. When pressed as to the criteria by which they choose their music, many of these leaders finally admit that their criteria oscillate between personal preference and keeping the congregation reasonably happy--scarcely the most profound criteria in the world. They give little or no thought to covering the great themes of Scripture, or the great events of Scripture, or the range of personal response to God found in the Psalms (as opposed to covering the narrow themes of being upbeat and in the midst of "worship"), or the nature of biblical locutions (in one chorus the congregation manages to sing "holy" thirty-six times, while three are enough for Isaiah and John of the Apocalypse), or the central historical traditions of the church, or anything else of weight. If such leaders operate on their own with little guidance or training or input from senior pastors, the situation commonly degenerates from the painful to the pitiful (From Worship by the Book, p. 47).