Monday, January 21, 2013

Nashville Knows Best


We ended up in Nashville this past weekend due to a cancellation in our schedule. Because of this, we got to do something that we don’t often get the opportunity to do. We got to go to church and be a part of the congregation. Finally, we can just go to worship and to learn from the sermon. It was quite a refreshing change of pace.

If I were the kind of person who is focused solely on facts, I might just say that the music was really good. But I’m not, so here’s an entire blog about it:

The music was really good.

The music was loud enough to fill the room, but not enough to hurt your ears. The band was visible, but not quite enough to make out what kind of guitars and such they’re using. The lights set the feeling of the songs well, but they didn’t try to make it a light show. The musicians were clearly talented, but they weren’t there to show everyone just how talented. All this to say, it was very well done.

It made me think a lot about music and worship. I never loved the music at the church I went to during college. They were talented and everything, but it never felt very alive. It was loud enough to be heard, they played electric guitars, but it was very whatever. It was as if the music was there because it had to be, or because you need music to sing on top of.

At the church in Nashville, they allowed to music to do what it is supposed to do. They allowed it to collaborate with the song’s intention. It accommodated the lyrics with intensity, power, mellowness, or by setting up a soundstage for reflection. I think when it comes to worship, we sometimes set up a false dichotomy on the balance between showy music and oversimplified musical setups. As if playing music that requires skill, or having too many instruments, is too showy, but using no instruments isn’t “good enough”. I think it’s just about letting the music accommodate the songs and their message.

Think of a song that starts slow, builds, and explodes towards the end in a powerful chorus. Songs like this often start (lyrically) with simple thoughts, and then expand into something big that means a lot. So the musical ups and downs really accommodate that. The music allows the flow of the song to be perceived, felt, and understood beyond the words (it’s art after all). Think about this song done with nothing more than an acoustic guitar playing the same chords the same way the whole time. That would be a bastardization of the song.

I don’t want to come across as if to say simpler musical setups are bad. Simpler setups often have a very intimate feel to them that bigger setups just can’t accomplish. That’s awesome, but again, it should be done in a way that allows the intimate nature of the setup to reflect in the worship. Some of my favorite moments of worship are on Christmas Eve at my small traditional Lutheran church back home. Organ or piano, with 100 or 200 people singing Silent Night by candlelight. Simple, but everything fits together.

I think a lot of churches or Christian groups struggle with how to have “good” worship while keeping the focus on God. I know I don’t have it all figured out. There are so many intangibles when it comes to music and where someone’s heart is, but one thing I believe is that we shouldn’t be afraid to let the music be what it wants to be: a powerful medium of communication.

Final disclaimer. I understand that worship is about where the worshiper’s heart is. You don’t need good music (or any music) to worship with your whole self. I believe, though, that we should offer our best to God in our talents and creativity.

Monday, January 14, 2013

"How do you feel..."


“How do you feel when you meet people who aren’t Christians?”

A girl asked us this question at a Q&A the other day. For a few moments nobody said anything, it’s a difficult question. It’s a great question. I think a believer’s response to this question says a lot about their faith. It wasn’t until the end of the Q&A that I really arrived at my thoughts on the question.

It took me so long to find words to go along with the way I feel about non-Christians because it’s a complicated emotion. For me it’s not so simple as sadness, or so self-righteous as pity, but more like longing. I'll come back to this in a bit.

Because we're human and have sinned, Jesus came to earth to die and be raised from the dead to reconcile us to God. This is probably a good way to put the very basic foundation of the Christian faith. But of course, it's immeasurably more than that. As I've grown in my (still basic) understanding of God and life, I've come to see how everything works together. It's all so intricate and beautiful. It starts in learning more about sin and what it means to turn away from God. That's when we begin to better understand our condition as humans - broken. Then there's Jesus and our salvation (so great! but not to be discussed here). Then we can develop into the finer points of faith. Understanding things like love and humility is difficult, but by seeing how they work relationally, and seeing how they are embodied in our limited knowledge of God, one begins to see a bigger picture of God, life, faith, etc. It all becomes a wonderfully interwoven worldview based upon the foundation mentioned earlier.

Coming back around, when I see people who don't have such a worldview I feel a longing. When I see people making choices that don't go along with this faith, I long so deeply for them to see all the intricate beauties that follow from, "We believe in God, the Father almighty...". Instead of chasing a surface level, self-discovery based understanding of concepts like love, kindness, beauty, morals, faith, I long for them to see the world as held together by the one true God. I want this because there's so much we miss in life when we seek cheap thrills, or whatever feels right at the time. Most of all, I want this so that they would know the joy and love, beyond words, that comes from knowing the Father.

So what should I do about this longing? I'm not sure I'll ever have THE answer to that question. Throwing the truth at people often does more harm than good. That's why Jesus didn't just rant about all the stuff we mess up. He cared for the lost and the broken, and He died for all of us. On the flip-side, leaving them alone would be awfully sad. How can we believe something too great for words and not share it? Whatever it looks like for each of us, it should be done out of love for others.

So how do I feel about my relationships with non-Christians? It's complicated. However, I will never stop learning how best to love them and to share with them this beautiful faith."