Behind the music

As sometimes happens, Arron scooped me. For several weeks I’ve been thinking about worship, and—practically speaking—how this might translate into choosing a church here in Nashville. And earlier this week Arron posted some great thoughts on the importance of meaningful worship, regardless of “style” or song choice.

The fact that we’re both thinking about these issues actually isn’t surprising; much of the evangelical world is wrestling with the “now what” question as it pertains to corporate worship. After the progression from hymns to Maranatha to Integrity to Hillsongs to Vineyard to Passion, we seem to be coming full circle with a new generation eager to embrace hymns again.

In fact, many not only want the hymns, they want the liturgy, the labyrinths, the stations of the cross, and the recited prayers. They want mysticism and candles. Most of all, I think they want a sense that this is bigger than the charismatic pastor up front and the coffee bar and the rock-climbing wall.

In our quest to be relevant, in our insistence on warehouse churches and electric guitars, we’ve lost a sense of awe and reverence in our services. We’ve lost the ancient rhythm of the church year which the Episcopalians beautifully describe as a dance. In some cases, we’ve lost doctrinal meat and rich truths that the hymns and responsive readings provide and that “Trading My Sorrows” does not.

This came into sharper focus as I began looking for a church here. I loved my church in California and in many ways it avoided the stereotypes—one of the reasons I made it my church in California. But I spend a lot of time in churches and I found myself dreading the process of visiting a series of them here, experiencing the same services with four of CCLI’s top 25 songs and the same messages with videos from Worship House. I dreaded the conversational prayers peppered with “Lord, just….” or “Father, we ask for your help and, Father, that you’d be with us, Father, and….”

I know I sound so critical. But my criticism is that “contemporary” and “relevant” have become as predictable as the “traditional” services they replaced. What’s needed in the churches I visit is not a great drummer or cutting-edge graphics (although I happen to be a big fan of both). What’s needed is time to hear large portions of scripture and let it seep down into your heart. What’s needed is time to pray and to reflect on the words being said and to make them our own prayers. What’s needed is time to confess.

Sooner or later I’ll find a church here. Its services may include the entire set list from Chris Tomlin’s new album or its most contemporary feature may be padding on the pews. I don’t care, as long as I can glimpse I AM in the midst of it.

Greetings from Music City

It’s been a surreal week….. ……….. The movers carted off my stuff so I spent several days camping out in my own home, bedding down on the (dirty) carpet in a $10 camouflage sleeping bag and living out of a suitcase………Abel and Abel, the father and son combo who loaded up my furniture, have also moved Michael Jackson, several Playboy playmates, Steven Seagal (“his stuff filled up two trucks!”), and Chuck Norris. You’d think Walker, Texas Ranger would drive his own moving van, but whatever…….My next door neighbor, who has had a crush on me for three years and who I’ve tried to avoid for three years, taped a long, rambling letter on my front door asserting that we are “twin personalities.”

It’s been a frustrating week……… For one thing, Blogger isn’t working–I actually wrote this several days ago…….For another, somebody hacked into my ebay account and now I’m fighting with them to avoid paying the $50 in fees this person racked up by listing 48 box set DVDs for sale from my account…….For a third, when you call a customer service line and they ask you to punch in your account number followed by the pound sign, why does the “Customer Care Representative” still ask you for that account number when they finally come on the line? I especially enjoyed the call where I tried to transfer my long-distance service to my new Nashville number; I spent 10 minutes listening to merengue music after which Ron the CCR came back on the line to tell me I’d actually need to call back in “about a week” to complete the transaction………..The heat went out in my apartment about the same time as my furniture did, creating a chilly, this-really-is-like-camping-because-it’s-50-degrees feeling to the evenings…….While backing my car out of an unfamiliar parking spot to drive it out front for the moving van, I hit a tree. I’m not kidding…….And a few minutes later the annoying neighbor called since I hadn’t responded to his letter. “I don’t want you to leave carrying this burden of our unresolved relationship,” he said. Since I wasn’t aware we had a relationship, I assured him I was carrying no burden–and then blocked his number on my phone.

But it’s been a good week because God showed up, often through the care of other people. Friends helped me pack up my grandmother’s china, paid for me to visit a spa, mailed me a “welcome to your new home” package, and left me thoughtful, kind email and voice mail messages on Thursday and Friday as I traveled east. One let me vent a week’s worth of pent-up frustration over the phone and still invited me over for a homemade dinner. And two brave souls took me, two 50-pound bags, and a panicky cat to the airport at the crack of dawn. Last Sunday I worshipped and wept my way through my last service at the church I’ve grown to love. We sang “Enough,” my very favorite chorus, and it seemed like a message from the God who knows me so well and knows how to communicate with me.

All of You is more than enough for all of me, for every thirst and every need. You satisfy me with your love, and all I have in You is more than enough.

No matter what this new place holds in store for me, God will be more than enough for me. Which is a good thing, actually, since Abel-squared lost one of my chairs and part of my coffee table.