Like It's Going Out of Style

If there's one word that defined the 20th century, an argument could be made for "style." Love it or hate it, Modernism brought an avalanche of stylistic trends and -isms that would shape the way our modern world looks; from clothing fashions that changed every five minutes and recycled every couple of decades, to psychedelic graphic design trends, various schools of abstract painting, and a smorgasbord of weird and wonderful architecture. Compared to the previous century, everything moved at a break-neck pace, and that trend seems to only be accelerating as communication becomes wider and more immediate.

The unfortunate victim of this high rate of change was the church. In the early part of the 20th century, most American churches lagged behind the curve a decade or so, but by the 1950s, the whole church more or less had jumped on the bandwagon. There were some holdouts, of course, but at the time, the more "enlightened" folks would have viewed these as outliers—mindlessly imitating the aesthetics of a bygone age. (This is the part where I'm sure some of you will make an argument that the church needs to "exist in the now" or "relate to modern culture" or what have you. Trust me, I've heard every argument.)

The reason I say this is unfortunate is that this idea of impermanence—a key component of style and fashion—has permeated even the church, to the point where we fully expect to tear down or remodel our churches in a decade or two. A former church of mine built a very minimal, barn-like sanctuary in order to convert into a gymnasium in a future stage of expansion. And from what I can tell, this utilitarian approach to building churches has become pretty commonplace. Some even go so far as to make the sanctuary dual-purpose from the get go. And it makes sense, from the perspective that a church built today will likely go out of style in the next five years anyway: "Technology will need to be replaced, the aesthetic will need to be updated, and who knows? Maybe we'll actually have the funds to make a "nice" church the next time around." It also makes sense from the theological perspective of Baptists and Evangelicals who don't believe in the real presence: "If the building is just a place where we come to do some things in God's name for one hour a week, no big deal. It might as well look like a gym." Of course, this doesn't describe the position of a confessional Lutheran, but in recent times, that hasn't stopped us from acting like Evangelicals.

I recently listened to a Let the Bird Fly podcast in which a couple of WELS pastors made some convincing arguments in favor of bringing back the clerical collar. The one that struck me the most was that you never have to worry about your clericals "going out of style" (32:30). Imagine never having to worry about whether your pants were sufficiently baggy or skinny, whether this print of plaid is still in vogue, or whether your shoes were hipster enough.

What if your pastor's clothes were not supposed to make a statement of style? What if they were just meant to say something about who you are in relation to God, and that's all? What if you made a choice to wear what other pastors and priests have worn for centuries, with the knowledge that it isn't going out of style in your lifetime? How incredibly freeing would it be to permanently cut that annoying decision-making process out of your day? To stop wasting time every morning wondering what kind of image you are going to project to the world today? At least, that's one set of arguments Dr. Johnston and Dr. Berg make.

Redeemer Lutheran Church in Louisville, KY - built 1952.

Take that concept and apply it to your church building. What if we decided to treat our worship spaces as the dwelling place of God—not just in theory, but as a matter of fact? What if we resolved that our architecture would say something about who God is, and less about how fashionably modern we are? What if we could rest easy that our hard work wasn't going to be erased by our children in an attempt to correct our bad taste? What if we adapted forms that are so cemented in Western culture that they couldn't possibly go out of style? What if we planned for the future, instead of just for today, and built a church that could truly stand the test of time—both in its aesthetic considerations, and in its construction?

All this is not to say that it is wrong to have a trendy-looking or cheaply constructed church, just like it isn't a sin for a pastor to dress like a lumbersexual. I bemoan even having to write this disclaimer, but in the modern Lutheran church, you can't even whisper the word "should" without someone saying you're being a legalist. (So if that describes you, just stop it. You're being disingenuous.) It doesn't make you a legalist to say that one thing is better than another, and even less so for merely posing the question. If a group of Lutherans wants to have a really hip, contemporary-looking church, presumably there is some utilitarian benefit they have in mind—say, connecting with a demographic of people who don't trust "churchy churches." Or perhaps it's a matter of cost.

That's fine. We are free where Christ has made no law. I mean, chances are good that it's going to look ugly, and in fact you're probably counting on that. But considerations of beauty aside, there are both theological and practical benefits to thinking about our churches in terms of permanence and timelessness, just like there are many practical benefits to wearing a clerical collar. It shows that we belong to something bigger than ourselves, something older, and more important than our changing whims and fashions. It shows that an actual encounter with a holy God is occurring here. When we are freed from the ongoing worry about whether our church's image is completely up to date, then we can focus on other things—like sharing Christ with a fallen world. Chances are good that a traditional church building (with its furnishings and artwork) will even help you in this regard!

We all have different levels of comfort with change. Speaking for myself, I get fatigued by it very easily. But if I may presume to speak more broadly, there are things we all like to stay the same. However we feel about our fast-moving culture, we all make traditions for ourselves. Maybe it's football. Maybe it's pizza and a movie on Friday nights. Maybe it's the holidays with family. Whatever it is, there is something each of us finds comfort in, and that we want to stay the same. Maybe our church can be one of those things?

On Form vs. Content: Musical Style and the Overemphasis on Texts

I've been to a couple of WELS Worship Conferences, and one School of Worship Enrichment. One theme that has consistently bothered me has been the (over)emphasis of texts, to the possible exclusion of music. Now, they don't say it like that, nor will they probably admit that this is happening, but in the context of our synod as a whole, I've seen even the conservatives quickly change the subject when the issue of musical style is raised.

The oft-repeated WELS worship principle is this: The texts must dominate, the music is subordinate, and we should set standards of excellence.

In principle, I have nothing against this. But it only addresses half of the issue. When we refuse to address matters of style, it leaves a hole in our worship principles large enough to drive a tour bus through. We typically call this hole "Christian freedom," but I'm not convinced that's the case.

In little more than a decade, Koiné has become a household name in the WELS, and their music is a good case study in regard to the WELS worship principles. One of my favorite hymns is Jesu meine Freude, and it is also one of my favorite Koiné arrangements. It takes the text, tune, and even the traditional harmonies of the Johann Franck hymn and gives them an upbeat tempo and contemporary instrumentation. The result is a fresh look at a centuries-old Lutheran hymn. The reason Koiné is an ideal case study here is because they allow us to isolate a single, key variable—style. The text, melody, and harmonies are undeniably excellent and therefore fit the WELS worship principles. But there is a palpable difference between the Koiné recording and a Bach setting of the hymn, and it's a difference of style.

The common wisdom WELS offers in regard to style is, "If it offends someone, don't do it." In my opinion, this is too simplistic to be of any use, and easily ignored or misapplied. For instance, it seems to imply that congregational (or worse, individual) tastes should set our worship standards. So the question needs to be asked: In worship, can we make judgments on matters of style without restricting our sacred Christian freedom? I think we can, and we must.

Aesthetics in Art and Music

Credit for this revelation goes to Dr. Gene. E. Veith, who gave a series of lectures at CCLE XV that I was privileged to attend a few weeks ago. His lectures centered on the matter of aesthetics, and after having read State of the Arts: From Bezalel to Mappelthorpe and heard his lectures, I would guess that there are probably few Lutherans alive who have as much insight into aesthetics as Dr. Veith.

One of the major premises of his lecture was that in a great work of art, content and form relate to, and compliment, one another. He used a negative example of a beaming smiley-face emoji with the word "Awesome" written underneath it. The cartoon smiley is so antithetical to the actual meaning of the word (i.e., inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear) as to be ridiculous. Another example Veith cited was "praise" music. How often do they talk about how "awesome" and "holy" God is, but with banal, repetitive, trite music? The form doesn't reflect the content, so the work of art is a failure. Contrast with "Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty" by Reginald Heber and its tune by John Dykes, which builds a sense of awe as the notes "ascend" to God. The aesthetic form of a work has as much to do with its success or failure as does the message or content.

Note: Just to clarify, I am not fully equating style with aesthetics, even if I seem to use them interchangeably. Style is one part of the whole aesthetic experience. Sometimes there is an almost total overlap, and sometimes the stylistic impact is minimal. For instance, a contemporary praise song's melodic and harmonic patterns are determined in large part by the style of the genre. Whereas, in the Koiné arrangement of Jesus, Priceless Treasure, the new stylistic contribution is relatively small and related mostly to instrumentation; whereas its meaning, poetry, melody, and harmonies were still retained in spite of the stylistic facelift.

The point is that it isn't totally honest to separate the text (content) from the music itself (form) and evaluate each separately. The style and performance of music is where much of the art exists. It can make the difference between a holy and reverent hymn, and an ironic one.

Flickr: by TinkerTailor

Let's pull this discussion into the realm of the visual arts to look at it from a different angle. An artist could render a crucifixion using a fractured cubist style that relates in no way to the content. Few Christians of any stripe would be convinced to hang it above their altar simply because the subject matter (content) is ostensibly Christian. And if they did consider hanging it, it would probably be because they personally like the style (form) and think it will make a statement about how non-traditional their church is. But a bad work of art isn't redeemed by good intentions or even a good message. The success of a work of art rests on the harmonious interaction of content and form.

We regularly make major qualitative judgments based on aesthetics. As we should. Why then, does our synod refuse to enter into discussions of aesthetics and style when it comes to worship?

Concerns About Christian Freedom

2014 Ntl. Youth Rally, courtesy WELS Facebook page.

The short answer, I suspect, is that we are oversensitive towards legalism. I readily grant that this is a legitimate concern, given that WELS still struggles to overcome its pietist roots, and because progressives use the label as a weapon against their conservative brothers. But if we're too afraid of the right ditch, we've over-corrected and landed in the left. We've watched our National Youth Rallies become increasingly like rock concerts, so we can only suppose that the synod must be endorsing it. Even the WELS Worship Conference last summer, which was mostly wonderful and awe-inspiring, featured a scene straight from "Sister Act." The result was that raucous and offensive worship was offered up beside excellent and reverent worship as acceptable alternatives for WELS congregations.

On some level, we've convinced ourselves that this is okay. If the texts are good (which isn't always the case), and if there is some liturgical structure, and as long as everything is of excellent quality, it still fits those guidelines, right? The style can be tossed in with Christian freedom. The biggest pitfall before us is that this cafeteria approach to worship ("As long as the texts are good, choose whichever style you feel comfortable with") will inevitably lead to a cafeteria approach to doctrine. You don't have to take my word for it; ask our brothers in the LC-MS trenches. They've been fighting this battle longer than we have.

To be fair, WELS hasn't been completely silent on the topic of style. Jonathan Hein's plenary address at the 2014 WELS Worship Conference, Compelling Worship, at least addressed that music can have "stylistic baggage." But I think he worded his argument poorly when he said that we have the Christian freedom to "set the Nunc Dimittis to 'gangsta' rap or the Kyrie to heavy metal," only that it's unwise to do so (p. 17). But if it is unwise (read: unloving), do we really have freedom to do it? St. Paul says, "For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another" (Gal. 5:13).

Hopefully I'm incorrectly characterizing the synod leadership's views. This is one of the many cases where I would be happy to be proved wrong. There is absolutely a place for Christian freedom in worship. But an uncritical stance toward musical style has allowed a steady migration of unworthy music into our worship. Excellence is a worthy enough goal, but it makes no explicit comment on style. What aspects must be excellent? Do they mean only excellence of craftsmanship, or of performance value, or of artistic merit? Who defines excellence? Judged by its own standards, surely a rock song can be excellent. So can an abstract painting or a minimalist sculpture. It's good to say that we want to achieve excellence in all things, but then we have to follow through. We have to be willing to define our terms, and then make judgments accordingly; "This is good and excellent; this needs improvement; this is deplorable."

In the case of Koiné, I preface my analysis by saying that I like their music. More than a matter of taste, it's excellent, because a talented group of Lutherans taking good Lutheran hymns and giving them a modern arrangement could result in nothing less. Even their original music is quite good. But I have to qualify that by saying that these are excellent for a certain purpose, and that purpose is not the divine service. I would like to believe that there's nothing inherently inappropriate about guitars and amps in worship. However, they've consistently pushed the limits of what is fitting for corporate worship, until their worship events look and sound no different from their concerts, and that should cause concern. The cubist crucifixion may be a perfectly valid art form and a deeply felt expression of someone's faith, but the aesthetic distorts the content and subverts the order and beauty of the liturgy—and worse, clouds the clear proclamation of the gospel. It thus may be fine in a public arts venue or in your home, but the things we use for worship in God's house are different, holy, and set apart.

As difficult and sometimes painful as discussions of aesthetics and style can be, I think it's good medicine. We need a more nuanced and responsible approach to worship than, "Just worry about the texts," or "If it offends someone, don't do it." We need an approach that addresses Christian freedom, but is also true to the historical Christian faith and the rule of love. The Book of Concord describes such an approach, and I encourage everyone to become familiar with it.

Worship is a Lifestyle?

I saw a link on Facebook recently that intrigued me: How do you define Worship? It's a devotional post by Christian musician Michael Schroeder (whom I believe to be WELS, although I could not find any information on his website or blog to verify this.) Here's a portion that I want to discuss:

"I am here today to tell you that worship isn’t a service style. Worship isn’t a music style. WORSHIP IS A LIFESTYLE! It’s important for us to understand that whether we prefer to worship in the style of David with harps and dance before the Lord unashamed, — or whether we prefer to use an organ and a service style from the 1600’s,— or whether we prefer to use a piano and guitar in today’s contemporary style, it’s Important to understand that this is not the source of our worship, but merely an expression of our worship."

I somewhat balk at calling Sanctification a "lifestyle." But taken at face value, I agree with what Schroeder is saying. Worship is not only something we do for an hour on Sunday and then abandon for the rest of the week. This is indeed true and biblical, and we need to hear it often. We need to realize that our entire day-to-day life is sanctified by the in-dwelling of the Holy Spirit, and is offered to God as worship. So not only can singing hymns be worship, but also making oil changes, bagging groceries, getting kids into pajamas, and even changing diapers. If that was the extent of the message, I could add a hearty "Amen" to it!

But I think there's something else going on here. Schroeder cites Romans 12:1, which says, "Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship." It's a beautiful passage, and I refer to it often when I write about the intersection of art and worship. Unfortunately, I see this passage being misused at least as often as it is used correctly. And that seems to be the case here:

"If you look at the topic of worship in Romans 12, you find it doesn’t say anything about worship being a music or service style, but describes worship as a lifestyle, as it tells us to live a life of worship by using the gifts we’ve been given..."

Two Kinds of Worship

A basic premise of my current thinking of art in worship (see: Vehicles of the Gospel) is that we are not properly recognizing that there is more than one kind of worship mentioned in the bible. When St. Paul spoke of this "spiritual worship," he wasn't offering an acceptable alternative to the divine service. It's a both/and arrangement. Yes, worship God when you gather together "teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord." But also "do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him" (Col. 3:16-17). Ro. 12 is meant to expand the definition of ritual worship that everyone in the ancient world was familiar with. (But really this isn't new information—both concepts are present in the Old Testament as well.)

What you often see in liberal theology and worship is a failure to acknowledge the two kinds of worship (corporate worship + sanctified living) as being distinct from one another, which allows for a bait-and-switch. This may not always be done intentionally. Maybe it's a failure of the church at large that we haven't taught clearly and consistently what worship is. But regardless, we are often taken by it. It usually goes like this:

In a conversation about corporate worship, Frank says that what Dillon does is not conducive to worship. Dillon replies by producing Ro. 12:1, which of course says that our entire lives and bodies are worship, and therefore his worship is as valid as Frank's. If Frank knows his Bible, he will point Dillon to 1 Cor. 14, where the Holy Spirit provided guidelines on what should and should not be done when we are gathered together for worship, thereby drawing a distinction between corporate worship and the rest of our lives.

If Frank isn't familiar with 1 Cor. 14, he may just concede the point and say nothing. Or perhaps he will insist on the point regardless, and Dillon will think him a legalist.

Conclusion

Above all, I think this shows how important Scripture is to any discussion about worship. Even though ceremonies and "worship styles" may rightly be considered adiaphora, it doesn't mean that there are no guiding principles in the Word, or that anything goes. It isn't a matter of styles—it's a matter of theology.

I think all Lutherans need to embrace both teachings about worship, without confusing the two. I'm not comfortable with the potential for confusion due to calling worship a "lifestyle." But even if understood correctly, that worship cannot supplant the divine service, or any attempt at reverence therein. Worship should indeed describe every moment of our lives. But it also describes that special place where God comes to us in a unique way through Word and Sacrament with the forgiveness of sins. We cannot have one and not the other.

Severing Doctrine from Practice

A recent post at Brothers of John the Steadfast criticized the contemporary worship services at Concordia University Nebraska. I can't fully defend the article, because it was written from the perspective of a one-time visitor, and some of the points were not entirely accurate. However, the comments it generated, especially by many offended CUNE students, were of special interest.

The recurring themes, repeated over and over by students who were lifelong LCMS Lutherans, some of whom were Pastors' kids, were:

1. We can't expect non-Lutherans to worship like Lutherans.
2. Traditional liturgy is off-putting to unbelievers.
3. Not everyone is edified by liturgical worship.
4. As long as we are true to the Word (or at least don't preach false doctrine), the worship style is irrelevant.

So based on these premises, the students feel convinced that having CoWo chapel is not only acceptable, but is to be preferred over traditional liturgical worship. Unfortunately, the premises are made of straw and don't hold up to scrutiny. Let's examine them one at a time.

1. We can't expect non-Lutherans to worship like Lutherans.

In what universe would a Baptist walk into a Greek Orthodox church and expect to find a gospel choir? Ours, apparently, because that is the argument being used here. Lutherans are worried that non-Lutherans might pay to attend a Lutheran college, be taught Lutheran theology by Lutheran faculty, but then be shocked and disgusted that they worship like Lutherans? If a person has decided to attend a Lutheran school, then let's be honest to him and to ourselves about our heritage and our Confessions (even that troublesome Article XV of the Apology to AC).

2. Traditional liturgy is off-putting to unbelievers.

So what happens if a demographic of Wiccans starts attending a Lutheran college? Can we mutilate the divine service enough to appeal to them? This line of thinking is dead wrong for two reasons. The first is that worship is not an outreach tool. The second is that it assumes that God's Word and the gospel have no real power over the soul, placing the importance instead on "style."

3. Not everyone is edified by liturgical worship.

Yes, everyone is edified by liturgical worship, unless he has hardened his heart to the Word. What this argument is really saying is, "I don't like liturgical worship [it doesn't make me feel good]." Again, this is wrong for two important reasons. The first is that it attempts to drain the Word of God of its power. The liturgy is not an empty set of rites that might as well be a bunch of nursery rhymes. In large part, it is the Word of God. It is assembled from the inspired songs of Scripture into a regular structure that administers law and gospel at every service. It must edify us. This argument is like saying that a person who does not like spinach will not be nourished by it, which is obviously not true. God's Word is efficacious without our "spicing it up" with drums and guitars.

The second error is in thinking that my feelings determine what is good for me and what is not. If what I like determines what is good, Twinkies are just as good for me as steak. And if the emotional high I get in CoWo really is edifying, then so is being told that I just won the Powerball, even if it isn't true.

4. As long as we are true to the Word (or at least don't preach false doctrine), the worship style is irrelevant.

Wrong x 1000. Worship flows out of theology. Lutherans cannot worship like Quakers, Methodists, Pentecostals, Reformed, or Evangelicals. Not only because our Confessions forbid casting aside the "customary rites," but because our theology naturally produces worship that is liturgical, participatory, gospel-oriented, edifying, and centered on Word and Sacrament. From my experience at morning chapels at CUNE, there seems to be at least a substantial portion of students and faculty who want to foster a complete disconnect between theology and practice. But that disconnect cannot be maintained long before cognitive dissonance sets in. The tail will start wagging the dog, and doctrine will conform to practice.

I don't mean to pick on CUNE or even the LCMS here, because it's a widespread problem among Lutherans. We can't fool ourselves into thinking that we can maintain pure doctrine and law-gospel preaching while entertaining non-Lutheran worship styles.

Do This if You Want to Live

This Easter Sunday, we enjoyed a wonderfully Christ-centered worship service at our home church, Grace Lutheran in Seward. The hymns all were rich and powerful, the liturgy played a key role, and the sermon delivered law and gospel just as it should have. The choir did not overwhelm the service with special music. And with an attendance of about 70, the congregational singing was unusually boisterous for our small parish.

That will give you some perspective when I tell you about the conversation that took place at our table during the Easter brunch that followed. Some relatives of a parish member were visiting from Lincoln, and the husband could not seem to contain his pride in his church. You see, about eight years ago their church was doing very poorly; membership was declining, and it looked as though the end was in sight. But then they got a new, energetic pastor, and everything changed. They started a new, "very contemporary" service, and now the church is bursting at the seams. Now it seems that they cannot find enough parking space, and even their brand new facility proved to be too small. Well, you see, it is quite obvious that God is blessing this church.

Or so this visitor boldly claimed. I asked him which church it was that he was talking about, and he informed me that it was Christ Lutheran in Lincoln. So afterwards, I looked it up. Christ Lutheran apparently grew so large that its contemporary service split off into its own church, called Room211.  It seems this guy was not the only one who was proud of the church's rags-to-riches story. The Christ Lutheran website flaunts their attendance records online (while burying their LC-MS affiliation), and with numbers topping 1000 for Good Friday and 3000 on Easter Sunday, it's enough to make your average Lutheran church envious. Like maybe they're doing something right.

And that's what this visitor to Grace thought, too. He was laying it on pretty thick that our little church with a weekly attendance of less than 50 needs to get with the program. He stopped just short of saying, "Here's what you're doing wrong: your traditional hymns, liturgy, and law-gospel preaching are a death sentence. If you want to grow, do what we do."

What exactly do they do? The Room211 solution is to have gourmet coffee and cookies, a praise band, "multisensory worship," huge projection screens, videos, drama performances, fog machines, and sermons based on Pixar Movies. Is it possible to judge the success of a church's ministry from a distance? True, we can't judge hearts, but consider the following:

1. The 5 minute intro video on the home page only mentions Jesus one time—with the word "freak" appended to it. No cross. Just stories about alcoholism and depression and needing to belong.
2. The pages and pages of testimonials on the Room211 site mention "Jesus" a total of three times, and "Christ" only ten times, six of which refer to the parent church's name.
3. Nowhere does Room211 list its affiliation with the LC-MS. Even the word "Lutheran" is only mentioned in connection with its parent church.
4. Nowhere does Room211 have a statement of beliefs, or even a link to a statement of beliefs.
5. Read any of the archived sermons about Despicable Me, Duck Dynasty, the Princess Bride, or Michael Jackson, and see if you can find one with both law and gospel in it. (I couldn't. But I suppose if you have enough patience, you might find a couple.)

So am I envious of this church's success? Not in the least. Because there was never any doubt that if you give people whatever they want, you'll fill your church every Sunday. We could stand at the doors and hand out free birth control, and that would sure bring 'em in. But the question is, how can we best minister to souls in need of a Savior? Room211 is not ministering. If hand-picked testimonials only produce heart-warming stories about wanting to belong, and being moved to tears by the music, and finding the messages to be super relevant, and feeling like you can trust the people around you even though you don't know any of them—this is not ministering. If not one of those enthusiastic re-churched members can boast in the cross of Christ, then they are not being ministered to. This is pandering, entertaining, and manipulating. Why would we want to imitate this? For the numbers? Is that how God measures success?

Kyrie Eleison.

CCM and the Shotgun Wedding

A few weeks ago, I came across a great post at BJS by Eric Andersen: Parallels of Pornography and Praise Music. He shares a quote from C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves) in which Lewis describes what "lust" does and does not seek after. He says,

We use a most unfortunate idiom when we say, of a lustful man prowling the streets, that he “wants a woman.” Strictly speaking, a woman is just what he does not want.

He wants a pleasure for which a woman happens to be the necessary piece of apparatus. How much he cares about the woman as such may be gauged by his attitude to her five minutes after fruition (one does not keep the carton after one has smoked the cigarettes).

Andersen's post builds on the premise that so-called "Praise" music is like pornography in that it is all about aesthetic—not content. We don't want the whole package; we want the part that makes us feel good. And for the most part, Christian Contemporary Music (CCM) has very little to offer in terms of content. Andersen quotes the lyrics from a handful of truly insipid praise songs. They repeat empty refrains over and over, and romancing God seems to be a common theme. (I know of at least a few songs that I heard 3 or 4 times on internet radio stations (for example) before I realized that they were supposed to be "Christian" for exactly this reason—they sounded like every other popular love song, with a few allusions to Jesus/God that are easy to miss.)

Father = Church Growth?

Andersen mentions in passing that there are exceptions, and I want to address those. Because it appears to me that the exceptions are being used to "soften up" the traditionalists for a flood of non-exceptional, Haugen-flavored hogwash. While there are a few cases of good texts paired with Praise music, it is not a natural pairing. It's a case of theology being forced at gunpoint into a style of music that doesn't care for it. In the rare instance where a CCM group takes the time to put some semblance of theology into the music, Lutherans who dream about tattooed vocalists, colored spot lights, and glittery drum sets get the butterflies. "Hey, now we can sell this to the curmudgeony old Lutherans who insist on having good theological hymn texts!" So naturally, "In Christ Alone" by Getty-Townsend becomes the poster child for CCM among Lutherans. It should go without saying that the shotgun wedding between sensual Praise music and sound theology produced an ill-matched couple. But for appearances' sake, it might be good enough for a Trojan horse. As soon as we concede to publish Getty-Getty-Townsend in the new WELS hymnal, a horde of well-groomed, dressed-down, microphone jockeys will jump out and start singing the full gamut of Christian Contemporary Music. (Okay... so it is possible to take a metaphor too far.)

Is "In Christ Alone" a good text? Yes, as far as the theology goes. But it is terrible poetry. Which makes it at best an okay text. And moreover, it is not a hymn for congregational singing. It is a song, written for a Praise band and a professional soloist. Just like every other Praise song I've ever heard. And it could never be any other way, because CCM is modeled on the aesthetic of the popular non-sacred music you'd hear on the radio. It's "ear porn." People like it for the feeling it gives them, not for the theological depth of its content. If CCM didn't sound like pop music, it would simply have no appeal to the church growth movement.

Some of you will probably think that I have a chip on my shoulder. How can I be one of the two dozen Lutherans who doesn't at least begrudgingly condone singing "In Christ Alone" in worship? I must dislike everything contemporary.

On the contrary, I actually do like some of it. After all, I like a lot of popular music. Why would I dislike popular music that is also Christian? Most of it is quite catchy, sometimes has well-crafted poetry, occasionally good theology, and (to use one of those "trendy" adjectives) can even be uplifting. It is designed to be easily liked (again, not unlike pornography). But unlike many Lutherans, I hope that I am able to distinguish "what I like" from "what is good," and especially from "what is good for worship."

• I like a good leather recliner, but I don't need or want one in church.
• I like Phil Collins, but I don't want to hear his music in church.
• I like a good beer, but it would be completely inappropriate in worship.

See? We do this all the time. We distinguish between what we like and what is good for worship and beneficial to our fellow believers. But for some reason, this logical decision-making process is checked at the door when it involves Praise music, and we are called curmodgeony legalists for consistently testing everything.

Liturgical Art Cruncher

At the suggestion of one of my friends from college, I decided to make a "cruncher" for liturgical art. My friend and her husband had showed me the Praise Song Cruncher some time back, and she thought it would be a great idea to do a similar one for the visual arts. I agreed, and made it my project for the day.

You can read or download the document here: Liturgical Art Cruncher.

This worksheet is designed to aid Christian laymen in critiquing art that is made for worship. A critique should generally not be conducted in a mechanical, input/output fashion, but this might serve as an objective starting point for dialogue concerning a work of ecclesiastical art.

Because works of visual art communicate in a less objective way than language, critique will always be somewhat subjective. The results of the cruncher may not be as straight-forward as you expect. The key is intended to help you weigh and interpret the results.

The Church is Not a Restaurant!

One of the prevalent themes of the church growth movement is the idea that the church needs to accommodate the tastes of the unchurched: if they want a praise band, get the best praise band you can afford; if they want you to entertain their children while the adults worship, then you had best get a "children's church" program going; if your guests are needing a cappuccino before worship, set up a Starbucks franchise in your lobby. The church growth movement has spawned over 1,500 megachurches in the past 30 years, some with as many as 40,000 attendees weekly. These churches are known to be great at providing programs and facilities, but poor when it comes to the shepherding of souls. An interesting article looks into this trend, asking, When Will The Bubble Burst?

It is saddening to see many confessional Lutheran churches jumping on the bandwagon. While in past decades it was fairly common to find established churches experimenting with contemporary Christian music, the new norm is churches that are founded entirely for the purpose of praise-band-type worship. They have names like, "The CORE," "The ROCK," and "The Alley," with no "Lutheran Church" included in the name. (We wouldn't want to scare them away, would we?) Almost universally, they sport Christian rock bands, "come-as-you-are" atmospheres, video screens, splashy websites, and pastors in bluejeans. They use catch-phrases like "relevance" and "acceptance," and target the unchurched youth. My first close encounter with this kind of church was at the "Hearts and Hands of David" workshop hosted by Wisconsin Lutheran College. And, true to church-growth form, the pastor gave a stirring sermon about how we need to ask ourselves, "What's on the menu?" (The application was that we need to have things on our church's "menu" that people will keep coming back for—namely, the gospel. But it left the impression that the gospel was only the "chips and salsa" at a Mexican restaurant; you expect it to always be there, but it isn't the main course.)

From a church leadership perspective, it is probably difficult to counter this false doctrine as long as these pastors are still preaching the gospel (and hopefully the law, too). Church growth doesn't often give itself away like the "Mexican restaurant" sermon. It's an undercurrent, an agenda, an attitude. And while we cannot judge people's hearts and attitudes, we can judge a tree by its fruit, as Christ instructs us to do in Matt. 7:15-17. From what I have seen, the bluejeans and rock bands, while not sinful in and of themselves, are bad fruit that give evidence to a crisis of faith. We cannot permit this dangerous teaching to continue under the guise of Christian freedom and evangelism. Christians must insist that the church not be made into a franchise. The church is a hospital, not a restaurant! We go to worship in order to have our broken hearts bound by the life-giving gospel, not to satisfy our consumeristic appetites.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matt. 11:28

Adiaphora and Worship

The issue comes up again and again in discussions of worship: adiaphora. Some would argue that in matters where God has neither commanded nor forbidden, we are permitted in Christian freedom to do whatever we like. This has become the mantra of many contemporary artists, whether in architecture, art, music, or other aspects of worship. Several pastors have stretched Christian freedom to the point of saying, "I will do anything short of sinning to reach people." In some of my recent experiences, when raising concerns over contemporary worship, the response has been one of, "If you place restraints on my Christian freedom, you are a Pharisee and a legalist."

Since this is such a pivotal issue, it bears closer study. This is perhaps why Forward In Christ published a three-part series last year on Christian freedom, the final part of which dealt particularly with adiaphora. I was happy to see the WELS coming down on the issue in a manner that consisted neither of fence-riding nor mandating. Below are some selected quotes from the article.

[T]he major mistake many people make when it comes to adiaphora is to assume that, since God's Word doesn't prescribe a specific course of action, God doesn't care what people do in these matters. That is dead wrong. Everything matters to God! Even in cases of adiaphora, God cares about the decisions we make. 

"You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love" (Galatians 5:13, emphasis added). 

Love. It's what God is. It's what God does. It's what God wants to see in his people above all else: love for God, love for the Scriptures, love for our fellow man, love for our soul. Every decision we make gives us the chance to demonstrate love. In that sense, there are no "indifferent things." Everything matters to God, because love matters to God. 

… 

Love is what makes Christian freedom so different from political freedom. When we think of political freedom we tend to think in terms of rights. "I have the right to do what I want, when I want, provided I don't hurt anyone." Christian freedom is so different. Christians are not concerned about themselves or their rights but about love. … Just as Jesus placed himself below us, we place ourselves below family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, the lost, and even enemies. When making decisions, even in matters of adiaphora, we think about what serves others before we think about what we want. "Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible" (1 Corinthians 9:19). That's how we show love. 

Someone might ask, "If God wants us to show love, wouldn't it be easier if he just spelled it out?" One might beg, "I don't like this adiaphora business! Tell us exactly how you want us to worship, God. Tell us what we can and cannot wear. Then we'll know precisely how to make you happy." If God did that, he'd be like the wife who tells her husband exactly what she wants each anniversary. She receives that present, but that present displays little love, for it took little thought. But if she said nothing, now her husband has to think. "What would show the woman that I love how much I treasure her?" He is free to choose whatever he wants as a gift. Yet, he is thinking only of his wife's happiness. His thoughtful token of love will be more meaningful than if that token had been dictated to him. 

So it is with our marriage to the heavenly Bridegroom. God leaves much of our lives as adiaphora, but it's not because he doesn't care. Instead, God allows us to exercise our Christian freedom in a manner that demonstrates thoughtful love. "So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" (1 Corinthians 10:31). 

(Rev. Jonathan Hein: Forward in Christ, November 2011)

There are many reasons why a Christian might object to a particular style of worship out of Christian love. For one, many people consider guitars and drums in the front of church to be irreverent, because of the kinds of music associated with them. They might be wary of a pastor's gung-ho attitude about contemporary worship styles that appears to have no regard for burdened consciences. Or they might wonder why centuries' worth of good hymnody and liturgies are being unceremoniously tossed out the window because someone thinks they are not relevant to today's culture.

It is true that only God knows hearts, and so speculating as to the motives of either side in this debate may be overstepping our bounds. But it has not been my experience that those who object to contemporary worship do so out of Pharisaical legalism. To the best of our abilities, we should try not to project willful ignorance or sinful legalism onto the other parties in this discussion. I am sure that most everyone sincerely believes that he or she is really doing God's work in the worship service.

Now if both sides correctly understand Christian freedom, and both sides are acting out of love, it must be a matter of scriptural inferences that separates one side from the other. Of the WELS pastors whom I have heard promote contemporary worship, they all aspire to the same goal of "removing all barriers possible to reaching people outside the church" (e.g. http://www.gotocore.com/ see "About The CORE"). In other words, they infer from scripture that evangelism is the primary goal of the church. This is certainly a worthy goal. But I see at least two major problems with this inference:

1. The first is that they assume ex nihilo that a "traditional worship style" is an obstacle to the gospel. But this can only be true if everyone who comes to church does so in order to hear a particular kind of music, and nothing else. If such people exist, they are not wounded souls looking for Christ, but consumers of the most shallow sort. (And in fact, studies of unchurched people who become regular church-goers show that only a very small percentage of people count "worship style" as a contributing factor in choosing their church—let alone the deciding factor.)
2. The second problem is that in trying to "remove all barriers possible to reaching people outside the church," the focus on gaining new members is likely to marginalize current believers. The purpose of the church is not to grow its numbers, but to make disciples—baptizing and teaching them. That means feeding the flock is more important than filling the pews. If praise bands can offer a nourishing substance on par with most of our hymnal and the historic liturgy, I have yet to see it.

Of course we should love the unchurched and want for them to know Christ. That much anyone would agree with. But it is debatable whether pandering to what (we think) the unchurched want is really showing love to them. A parent may think she is showing love to her child by allowing him to live on a diet of marshmallows and fruit snacks. She probably thinks it is better for him to eat junk food than nothing at all, and that she is therefore removing barriers between her son and nutrition. But in actuality, she is teaching him that food has to be sweet in order to be nourishing. And if that is not bad enough, she gives the same diet to all of her children, including the 19-year-old.

Granted, not all contemporary worship music is "junk food." Some of it is quite good. I am simply attempting to show the flawed logic of the "remove all barriers" principle that guides the worship practices of many Lutherans today. But if we can get beyond the ignorant assumptions that adiaphora means "I can do what I like," or "God doesn't care," then we may begin to have discussions on worship that might actually accomplish something.