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worship

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Value in simplicity

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There are a few modern worship songs which annoy me because all they seem to say is “I’m a Christian” over and over again. Not only are modern worship songs formulaic (and include a lot of woh-ohing), they also feature a lot of repetition. At the other end of the spectrum, most hymns are wordy and can turn into a contest as to who can use the largest amount of words to describe a rather simple thing. Or spend an entire song to ask a question which can be answered with a single word: no.

simplicity

Personally, I tend to favour hymns (whether modern or ancient), because in the variation of lyrics, I can feel their flow and progression towards the resurrection. In that, they play their part in accompanying us in our worship, starting from simple description of facts and progressively including us – a bit like the “This is our story” eucharistic liturgy. That’s how, when they explode into the victory being won, that victory is truly ours.

But the issue with hymns is that they don’t let up. If I don’t know the hymn, I don’t quite have time to take in what I’m saying. The mind and soul are sometimes left trying to catch up with the lips. And by the time they have caught up, the liturgy is about to continue, without much time to actually own what we were singing. The same applies if we sing a song with simple lyrics but a complicated structure, where boredom takes over at the tenth special electric guitar riff.

Halfway between lyrical complexity and musical fanciness, though, there are songs which can only be described as simple. Take the Taize song “Oh Lord, hear my prayer“; or the African song “Hakuna wakaita sa Jesu“, meaning “There’s no one like Jesus”. Both of these have simple lyrics which get repeated – without fancy additions. The repetitive pattern, finally, allows the mind and soul to catch up with the lips, and the statement that there is no one like Jesus becomes truly our statement, rather than a trite, quaint little thing better left for Sunday school.

There is a true value in simple songs. And singing a song that just keeps on repeating itself is nothing to shirk from, or to compensate for with fun riffs or drum solo. Leaving enough time for the simple statement to gather momentum and weight, with no distractions or shame, leads (for me) to a deeper form of worship. And I absolutely adore it.

So here’s my suggestion for you: next time you worship, pick a simple song. Or simplify one by using simply the chorus. And sing it over and over again until you feel it is yours. Then finish with a moment of silence.

Praying is testing God (sometimes)

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Being bold in prayer is tricky.

Don’t get me wrong: boldness in prayer and a faith to move the mountains are good things. There are also practical ways to increase boldness in prayer. But in all of that, there is a difficult balance to strike, between expecting our prayers to be answered and considering that as a right that we have come to acquire.

The danger is there, that we start demanding things from God, as though he were indebted to us, rather than the opposite. The Israelites did:

They tested God in their heart
by demanding the food they craved.
They spoke against God, saying,
“Can God spread a table in the wilderness?”

Psalms 78:18-19 (ESV)

And God got angry at them for it.

I wouldn’t be quick to dismiss this as God being angry at some form of lack of faith on the part of the Israelites. Or to think that the Israelites wanted to make sure of God’s power before they went on and trusted Him. After all, they had all left Egypt on the basis of that faith, the power of God had just been shown them when they were thirsting for water.

Yes, their prayer was a test; but one that we can be led to put God to in our own prayer life, without noticing that we do. We test God in our prayers when we allow our faith to depend on the outcome of the prayer.

Expectant prayer becomes tricky, then: we want to both be  bold in the assurance that God will provide, but we need to not let our faith depend on it. Prayer, and our relationship with God, cannot become a utilitarian thing. How do we achieve that, though?

In remembering that our prayer comes from faith and relies entirely on that faith. Yes, answered prayers can feed a little into faith; and both may grow together. But we must not allow ourselves to turn to a system where faith relies on answered prayers.

The Lord’s prayer, rightly, starts with a statement of praise of God. This is not only a statement of what is the most important, but also a way of giving us the right state of mind for prayer: one that looks at God first, and  then allows us to respond and ask for our daily bread expectantly.

To conclude, though, let us remember that after being angered, God still provided the manna. He still answered the prayer, even when it did not rely on faith alone. Prayers born out of necessity, prayers born out of strife, or those where we doubt our own worth in God’s eye and therefore God’s answer – these are all acceptable. But let’s not make a habit of them ;-)

My greatest fear

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My greatest fear is that I end up doing church.

Scarecrow
Photo: jcookfisher, under CC license.

Regardless of the number of activities I partake in on weekdays, of how involved I can get in church life, the risk is still there: that I consider church, small groups, Bible studies, etc. to be something that I do. Because there’s a fine line between that and those things being what I do. But also because it is much easier to constrain specific actions to specific settings. And finally because it can lead to dissatisfaction with myself and others, as there is always more that I, or they, could do.

And none of these are desirable prospects. What I want is for my faith and my belonging to the local and global church to be part of my identity. For these things to seep through everything that I do and that I am, but not to be the object of my actions. It may sound like a pedantic difference to make, but it is important to make it, because church is more than the sum of its parts: it is more than all that we do there.

That can be used as an excusenot to go on the rota. But it shouldn’t, because that in turn could lead to a reluctance to get involved – and the death of the excitement felt at first.

Rather than avoiding doing stuff for church, rather than simply trying to be church, here’s the key: remember that what you do is about, for, with and from God:

  • when you read the Bible for the congregation, don’t simply “do the reading”, thinking you have to get it done for the rest of the service to go on. Remember what it is you’re reading (it is from God). Remember why you’re reading the Bible (to tell the congregation about God). And with the help of the Holy Spirit, proclaim boldly the Word and make it alive. Take the time that is needed, because it is for God.
  • when you’re leading worship, don’t let the technicalities of keeping rhythm, etc. (I have very little clue what I’m talking about here!) overwhelm you. Remember who you’re singing about. Whom you’re praising. Where the songs come from. And that the worship is, again, with the help of the Spirit.
  • when you’re serving tea, remember what hospitality is about and whom we’re trying to emulate. Remember where the love you’re showing comes from (that, and the goodness of tea). Seek the presence of God and let it shine through you.
  • when you go out of church – keep on reminding yourself of that throughout the week, in all that you do. That way, what you do will never be about what you do.

When I remind myself of God’s hand in what I do, the words of Philippians 4 come alive:

the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, guards my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus.

Singing lies is OK

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There’s a very powerful and popular quote by A.W. Tozer (referenced, for instance, here) that goes like this:

“Christians don’t tell lies – they just go to church and sing them.”

Provocative, not politically correct, that much is certain. Whether it reflects reality is a different question.

Are we singing lies?

Yes, many of us will have sung “Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I’ve come“, without knowing what an Ebenezer is. I sure did. (by the way, Ebenezer means “stone of help”, as in 1 Sam 7) – but is that a lie?

Let’s go one step further. I used to have my own personal doubts about “Better is one day in your courts” – because it felt like rejecting our life here on earth. After talking to friends about it, I realise I wasn’t understanding it properly and was more over-theologising than anything else. I still find it hard to sing “Break my heart for what breaks yours” – because I have some (limited) experience of that, and I’m not exactly looking forward to it. (Seriously, do you really want your heart broken?)

Whether because we don’t understand it, or don’t agree with it on theological or personal grounds, there are many reasons we can disagree with worship songs. Does it means I’m lying when I’m singing them?

It comes back to the nature of worship as an attitude. Worshipping Jesus means turning to him in humility and in love. Worship is both a direction and an attitude of humility. I’d say it’s more of a lie, then, to pretend to be worshipping when all you’re doing is picking and choosing theological statements, than to sing a line you don’t quite understand.

Here’s a few questions:

  • would you be quite so picky about singing Psalms? And if not, why not? *
  • do you think the Psalmist went back to his composition and made sure it was conforming to dogma?

Now I’m not saying we should undiscriminately accept all worship songs, or that there is no reflection to be done about them. However, when we are approaching our worship from the perspective of someone who is in control of what they sing… well, that’s turning the whole worship process on its head. And it’s missing the whole corporate aspect of worship. So even if you don’t really believe or understand what you’re singing, go back to it – talk to your pastor about it, inspect it in the light of the Gospel, do all of that. But do it after worship: don’t approach worship with a suspicious mind which controls what it takes and rejects from what’s on offer.

In more fancy words, dogma stems from doxology – not the other way around.

* Okay, I’m not saying the latest Hillsong album should be included in the canon. But unless you’re being very cynical about the production of worship songs, you will generally admit these songs may have been written with the help of the Spirit.

What does it mean… worship?

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“Worship” is one of those words we use, and think we know… but it is also one of those I find really hard to translate into French. And that’s because there’s no equivalent: the French would tend to use “adoration”. So I have found myself in the situation where I have to explain what “worship” is. And I struggled. So I asked my friends on twitter and face-to-face, but their answers generally didn’t tell me much about the essence of worship. That should have told me I was looking in the wrong place, but I think I got there eventually.

Photo credit: Mauro Cateb, under CC license.

So here’s a few thoughts I picked up along the way:

  • The Greek word used for “worship” in most instances in the New Testament is proskuneo. The translation is a bit contentious: one I’ve read is “to lean forward to kiss”, which conjures up, in today’s society, images of two close friends greeting each other. Other translation guides seem to point towards lying down, prostrate, to kiss the feet of a sovereign; and towards the evolution of the word to mean simple submission.
    Regardless of the actual meaning, though, there are  two important elements:
    Pro at the root of proskuneo implies a movement and a direction.
    There is a definite closeness involved in kissing. That should also be the case in worship.
  • The Latin used in some hymns is colo, from which we get the word colony. The first meaning is to cultivate a land, but ultimately, it means properly inhabiting a place. Indwelling brings the idea of closeness to a new level which encompasses our entire being.
Most importantly, though, worship is relational. It is not something that comes from us – the only thing we bring is an attitude of submission which allows us to respond. Worship is then our response: “a feeling of awe and wonder, your mind gets blown away and worship is the response that you can’t control”. That was the first answer I got when I asked people how they defined worship. I wasn’t satisfied because I wanted to be able to look at worship separately from anything else. But I realised such a task is impossible: worship does not make sense in an empty space; it does not mean anything apart from God. It is, first and foremost a response.

This is where modern languages are less helpful. Worship comes from worth-ship: thus worship is about declaring God’s worth (as compared to other things). Worship taken literally is nothing else than magnifying God. The German word used for worship songs means “praise (and prayer)”. The French, as I mentioned above, is the same as “adoration”. None of these mean anything independently of God, but they can be performed in a vacuum.
And it looks to me as though we have lost something in the process. Worship can sometimes be understood as constricted to worship songs, which in turn can be limited to praise, and literally describing God’s worth. Now it is right to give God thanks and praise, but worship is about so much more than that!

How do you see worship?

And, even though I just said worship isn’t just when we sing, singing can help worshipping, so:
what is your favourite worship song?