...by the jazz-improv structure of charismatic harp and bowl worship - scripture and prayers sung repetit
ively, contemplatively and with great passion and intensity...by the pop-stylings of a church worship team - four carefully-chosen songs, each sung twice through (except the one folk version of a hymn, to which all the verses were sung) to underscore and re-teach the sermon's message
...by the roller-rink ambience of a gigantic pipe organ, banging out verses 1, 3, 5, 7. 9 and 14 of Hymn #698.
Though most of us understand the idea that worship is so much more than the songs we sing, and the first wave of music style battles is now a grim memory of the church circa 1975-2000 A.D., the discussion is far from over. There's $$$ in worship music now, and some of it seems to have been recorded to fulfill recording contracts, and some of it seems to be a bit artless.
One of the seminal moments in my life as a singing worshipper came a few years ago.
One Sunday morning, when the the lone piano player (she was a piano player, not a pianist) was absent from the congregation we attended at the time. No one in charge had felt it important to come up with a Plan B, even though they knew she wasn't going to be there to march us through the hymns and grim 1970's camp choruses that characterized the musical offerings each Sunday morning.
So that Sunday, the person giving the sermon had the entire congregation read Scripture out loud, together for the duration of the time normally allotted to music in the service. I'll never forget the surreal nature of that church service.
This worship was doctrinally correct, spare and simple. Organic. Retro. Very "early church".
In the name of avoiding any sort of transcendent emotional engagement with God, this church, which had always shunned anything but the most workmanlike and dutiful singing of songs, had finally arrived at a state of purity. (Or had they?)
It was completely heartbreaking.
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