Music today . . .

More and more, I find myself getting "fed up" with the so-called "worship" songs we are asked to sing at church. Apparently, I'm not alone. At least not in my extended family. I try to remain silent about my own thoughts and feelings. But, it seems, almost every Sunday someone says something about the music . . . how this, that, or the next thing bugs them.

Yesterday was no different.

Except that Sarita brought our attention to a short article in The Week's "Health & Science" section. It matched something someone had just noted: How worship songs ("hymns"), in general, used to be relatively theologically deep and focused on God. Indeed, I remember how I used to comment about the almost third-person nature of so much of the music: not focused on "You"--"Oh, LORD, You . . .," but, rather, "He," "The Lord, He . . ." --"Lifted up was He to die . . .," etc.

When our family shifted over to a more charismatic/pentecostal church, the music became a bit more, if I may suggest it here, "interpersonal": "Lord, You are . . .," "I love You, Lord . . .," etc.

But at this point, strangely, the focus has shifted more and more, it seems, away from God and toward the members of the congregation, indeed, not to "us," even, but to "me," "my" and "I."

Indeed, it struck me last week as we were singing Michael W. Smith's I'm Coming Back to the Heart of Worship (It's All about You) how, strangely, by the way the "worship leader" kept repeating one part of a single line, instead of being reminded about how much "it" really is supposed to be all about Jesus, about God, the song became a paean of praise for each one of us because "I'm coming back . . . I'm coming back . . . I'm coming back . . . yes, I'm coming back . . .," etc.

But back to the article to which Sarita directed our attention:

A generation’s favorite tune: ‘I’m So Vain’
Young people “love themselves more today than ever before,” says University of Kentucky psychologist Nathan DeWall, and the proof is in their music.

He and his colleagues analyzed the lyrics of Billboard Hot 100 songs from the past three decades and found a steady increase in self-centeredness and hostility toward others.

“In the early ’80s lyrics, love was easy and positive, and about two people,” study co-author Jean Twenge tells The New York Times. “The recent songs are about what the individual wants, and how she or he has been disappointed or wronged.”

The study found a marked increase in the prevalence of the words “I” and “me” in song lyrics, and fewer instances of “we” and “us.” It also registered a jump in angry lyrics about hating and killing, and a drop in songs containing positive words like “love” or “sweet.”

The researchers suggest that rampant narcissism may be making it harder for people to connect with one another. They point to other surveys that show that more people are apt to feel sad and lonely now than in previous decades.

Hmmmm.

Same narcissism making it harder for people to connect with God, too?

Hymns and praise songs: what's the difference?

Worship in the Church of Reconciliation at Taizé. (See last section of current post.) Image via Wikipedia

An old humor piece I found on the Sonlight forums back in 2003. My recent post about some of the songs we were asked to sing at our church reminded me of it:

An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. "Well," said the farmer, "It was good. They did something different, however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns."

"Praise choruses," said his wife. "What are those?"

"Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like hymns, only different," said the farmer.

"Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.

The farmer said, "Well, it's like this. If I were to say to you:

Martha, the cows are in the corn . . .

--well, that would be a hymn.

"If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:

Martha Martha, Martha,
Oh, Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA,
The cows, the big cows, the brown cows,
The black cows, the white cows,
The black and white cows,
The COWS, COWS, COWS
Are in the corn, are in the corn,
Are in the corn, are in the corn,
the CORN, CORN, CORN . . .

and then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times--well, that would be a praise chorus."

As luck would have it, the exact same Sunday a young, new Christian from the city church attended the small town church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was.

"Well," said the young man, "it was good. They did something different, however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs."

"Hymns," said his wife. "What are those?"

"Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like regular songs, only different," said the young man.

"Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.

The young man said, "Well, it's like this. If I were to say to you:

Martha, the cows are in the corn . . .

--well, that would be a regular song.

"If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:

Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear thou my cry
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth.
Turn thou thy whole wondrous ear by and by
To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.

For the way of the animals who can explain
There in their heads is no shadow of sense,
Hearkenest they in God's sun or his rain
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.

Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight,
Have broke from their shackles, their warm pens eschewed.
Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed.

So look to that bright shining day by and by,
Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn.
Where no vicious animal makes my soul cry
And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.

--Then, if I were to do only verses one, three and four and do a key change on the last verse: well, that would be a hymn."

-------------------

The Taize version would be something like:

There are cows in the corn. There are cows in the corn.
We shall have to remove them, those cows in our corn.

Repeat approximately 20x, with a shifting of harmony by those who like to experiment, as the only real difference.

After everyone becomes silent, the music will continue for two more rounds. Then there will be a meditative silence until the next song begins.

Burst strength

I was reading a thread on the Sonlight Lifelong Learners (LLL) forum, a place where all sorts of people come to ask the questions and talk about the things that people--Christian and non-Christian--don't normally talk about. Not at the gut-wrenching depth that the participants in LLL discuss them.

LLL is a private place. You can't go there unless you're a customer of Sonlight or pay for entrance.

Once you get in, however, you'll find a wide range of participants. People of all manner of faith--or unbelief, or downright antagonism toward faith.

But you'll get their honest perspectives . . . --something, as I said, you'll rarely find anywhere else. At least not accompanied (usually) by relatively gracious attitudes, even when the speaker is hostile toward your perspective.

So I was reading this thread instigated by a woman who asked,

Have any of you been Christians and are no longer?

How did you get to this place?

I would very much appreciate talking about this with someone.

And then, upon prompting, "explained" what was really on her mind:

I am tired. And feel done.

Grew up in church. None of it came home if you know what I mean.

Married [my husband] 24 years ago. Drug him to church totally against his will. He claims to be a believer; a Christian. Hates church. Went for our kids.

Non-denom[inational church] for 3 years. Kicked out of the church by the pastor because we broke the rules and brought our sleeping infant into the "Family Room" (what they call the sanctuary.........what a joke).

Went to a Calvary Chapel for 5 years. Felt lost the entire time. Everyone had the "be there every time the doors are open" philosophy, and the "serve in just about every capacity you are able" philosophy, and if you don't, absolutely expect no connections whatsoever.

Left after 5 years because I was drug into a meeting and told I had to disclose information about some gossip going around in the homeschooling group, and I had one week to do so.

Went to a different Calvary Chapel for 3 years.

Left because I had twins and was exhausted and told my close friend, the pastor's wife, that I needed some time at home. We were told, "We'll be here when you get back" and they stuck to no contact whatsoever.

I desperately needed my "church family" (sorry............pains me to say that word) but we were only worthy of friendship if we were THERE on Sunday.

No break warranted.

Been out of church for 2 years. Husband could care less.

Where is God in all of this?

Nowhere.

This was one of the longer threads I have ever seen on LLL: over 300 posts in the course of a week of intense dialog.

At the tail end of the thread the original poster wrote,

I had a tough week last week and think so much just came to a head. A close friend lost her brother to a suicide and it just brought me to this place of re-living my father's suicide 11 yrs. ago. Add to that 4 straight days of basketball tournament; 10 hour days bouncing from game to game, city to city, with twins put me over the edge. . . .

I . . . feel this burning question: "Just how much do you think I can take????"

The actual post included additional comments that indicated greater resolution than I am reporting here. But it is that burning question at the end of the portion I have here quoted that elicited one final comment by another person:

I have asked this question a few times in recent years--while I know that 1 Corinthians 10:13 ["No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it." --JAH] is TRUE, sometimes it gets so close to that line that I feel like I'm going to break.

I actually read a poem about this the other day... lemme find it:

"A Psalm While Packing Boxes"
by Joseph Bayly

This cardboard box, Lord, see it says
“Bursting limit 200 lbs. per square inch.”
The box maker knew how much strain
the box would take, what weight would crush it.
You are wiser than the box maker
Maker of my spirit, my mind, my body.
Does the box know
when pressure increases close to the limit?
No, it knows nothing.
But l know when my breaking point is near.
And so I pray,
Maker of my soul
Determiner of the pressure within upon me
Stop it
lest I be broken
or else
change the pressure rating
of this fragile container of Your grace
so that I may bear more.

I looked to find where this psalm came from.

In the midst of my search for the source, I discovered that Mr. Bayly lost three teenage sons. The source didn't say this psalm was the direct result of those losses. But it certainly implied a connection. And I can imagine it.

*****
Having read the story of Mr. Bayly's losses, I am reminded of Horatio Spafford and the inspiration for his great hymn, "It Is Well with My Soul" (something my siblings and I sang at our mother's funeral 20-some years ago. (It was her favorite hymn and, certainly, one of mine as well.)

Spafford's story (as told in Wikipedia):

[It Is Well with My Soul] was written after several traumatic events in Spafford’s life. The first was the death of his only son in 1871, shortly followed by the great Chicago Fire which ruined him financially (he had been a successful lawyer).

Then in 1873, he had planned to travel to Europe with his family on the S.S. Ville du Havre, but sent the family ahead while he was delayed on business concerning zoning problems following the Great Chicago Fire. While crossing the Atlantic, the ship sank rapidly after a collision with a sailing ship, the Loch Earn, and all four of Spafford's daughters died.

His wife Anna survived and sent him the now famous telegram, "Saved alone." Shortly afterwards, as Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, he was inspired to write these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died.

In that context, then, the significance of Mr. Spafford's hymn is almost beyond imagination:

When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:
It is well with my soul,
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control:
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

I pray, somehow, that Mr. Bayly's psalm and Mr. Spafford's hymn as well might, somehow, prove helpful to you today.