Why People Don't Sing on Sunday (Part 2)

Last time we talked about why people sing in church. But some of what the articles say is true, there are plenty of times people don’t sing with those leading worship. And yes, we worship pastors occasionally make mistakes in the way we arrange, prepare, or lead some of our music. Some of us do it consistently. We really don’t mean to, but it happens.

But there are lots of other reasons people don’t sing.

For example …

Most of us can agree that there are some underlaying assumptions about worship through song that might be cause for people to sing or not. As in, if you aren't a Christian, you probably won't sing in church. Maybe this one is too obvious, but if you’ve never encountered Jesus, if you don’t yet agree with the lyrics of the song or have never heard it before, chances are you’re not going to want to worship Him through song. Of all those people who aren’t singing, is it possible some have never encountered Jesus? Is it possible they’ve never been in a church before, or for very long? Might they be seeking but unsure of what is True? Yes. Yes. Yes. And let’s be clear: THIS. IS. AWESOME! It means that we must be doing something right! It means that people have come to our worship gatherings because they sense something different and want to know what it is. And THAT means those people in our churches are surrounded by other people who love Jesus and DO have a relationship with Him, are providing an example of worship and discipleship. Hopefully, that’s going to rub off; eventually, those people will sing. They'll sing their freakin' lungs out, and it will be epic.

Other people are sitting next to them in the pew, but entirely self-obsessed. They think they're too good for the music that's been chosen. They think the theology of this one isn’t quite right; the drums were too loud on this one; the organ too soft on this one. And they could never sing music that wasn’t reflective of God’s perfect Truth, or deserving of God’s perfect favor, could they? Unfortunately, such people will never be happy because God’s favor is not something that really concerns them, and it is not actually possible to satisfy them; they have not come to church to engage God. Instead, many other reasons bring them; loyalty, duty, power ... anything aside from the pursuit of a relationship with a redemptive God. Many are either unaware of their own shortcomings or too ashamed of them to allow their carefully placed masks to slip. Their posture often (but not always) gives them away - closed arms, bent head, a slight frown: judgmental (maybe planning to blog about what the pastor's doing wrong). I must confess that have been here; self-righteousness was an easy habit to gain and remains a hard one to break. Only time and God’s patient prodding helped me to let go of my own aims and sing again.

Another reason some people don’t sing is that they’ve been caught up in the music in another way: they’re listening. Absorbing. Experiencing. Sometimes we sing at the top of our lungs and surf the wave of the music all the way to the shoreline. But sometimes we get overwhelmed by the ride and let the wave wash over us, and instead of surfing, we go swimming. When God speaks through music, it’s not always because our mouths are moving - in fact, often, God speaks through quiet, hushed spirits. Sometimes our singing can be about busywork, keeping our minds or bodies distracted from the quiet, still voice of the Spirit. I’ve had times when, in the middle of a song, I suddenly feel the need to stop and listen, and God says something to me that messes with me, be it through lyric, through melody, through an instrumental piece … if my mind does not quiet down (usually starting with my mouth), I miss what God is saying to me.

Some people don't sing because they are self-conscious. They know that there are lots of people out there - maybe (likely?) next to them in the pew - just waiting to judge them for their voice, the way they dress, and/or their commitment to God. So they don't sing; because, you know, why should I draw unnecessary attention to myself? I’ve been this person many times, worried what others around me would think if I tried a harmony from the pew and failed. And so I will say again what I said before: the haters aren’t worth your anxiety. For everyone else, only time and excellent hospitality will draw a song from their lips; when they realize that their pew-neighbors love them (maybe because of OR in spite of their voices; musical talent has very little to do with it), the masks will start to come away and the authentic self will start to emerge in the midst of the melodies.

Related to this: some choose not to sing out of guilt. Just as some choose to sing because others guilt them into it, others choose not to sing because they don't feel worthy of the words. They feel that they don't deserve to participate, either from the shame of ongoing sin or because of the pressure of the community around them to look perfect. But if there's anything we've seen so far, it is that nobody is perfect; everyone chooses to sing or not sing out of reasons related to their imperfect circumstances. In our singing, we have a chance to sing our way to a new way of living, and so if you find yourself caught up in guilt for something, singing will only help you move away from it. If anyone tells you you are not worthy of the music, they are lying to you; God loves you as you are and it is in the act of surrender that He begins to transform you - it won't happen without your permission. We are transformed because of God's love, not to earn it.

Some people don’t sing is because they’re in pain. For most of us who have gone through something hard, singing is suddenly not at the top of our lists. Many songs we choose to use in Church gatherings (regardless of style) focus on joy, happiness, the wonderful things that God has done. Rightfully so. But think for a moment; what music do YOU listen to when life is suffocating you? I know that “And Can it Be” and “One Thing Remains” (two of my favorites) are not on my list … I usually grab some John Mayer or Linkin Park or Evanescence … angry music. Music that expresses the dark insides of my current thoughts and emotions. Sometimes, people don’t sing because they just. can’t. do it.

It's hard to sing when you're holding back tears.

The lament is a lost art to the western mind; it doesn’t fit our cultural masks very well. When somebody says “hey, how are you?” our first reaction is always “great, how are you?” That should tell us something; it means we don’t like to look sad, or to be vulnerable. But when our emotions take such a beating that the mask starts to fail, with them, so will our voices. Which means that the rest of us need to sing all the louder for them, to lament on their behalf when words fail them, to surround them with the prayer of lyric and melody.

Let’s not give into the peer pressure to sing every note. It’s ok to not sing for a lot of reasons. Music is so powerful, don’t dishonor what God does through it. If God uses music to open your mouth in praise, sing with all your might. But if God uses music to shut your mouth to listen, don’t dishonor Him by opening it again anyway. Give grace to those around you who are not singing, remembering the times you too have been in their shoes. And sing all the louder, because somebody worked really hard to give you space to hear from God that morning.

Next time: what will help or hinder people to sing with those of us who lead?

Why People Sing on Sunday (Part 1)

There are still a lot of articles flying around right now about why people "aren’t singing" in churches since the last time I wrote on this. Some are wise to point out that the issue seems to be common to congregations regardless of style and thus must be something beyond that style. Go figure though, most blame modern music and all blame those of us who design and implement the worship gathering on behalf of our church families. It’s argued, not unsubtly, that people would only sing if we would just work harder.
 Speaking as one who works very hard to make each week a time where my congregation can engage God in song, in silence, and in scripture, it hurts to read these.

But it got me thinking, what about all the people who ARE singing?

I know for a fact that some people sing. Lots, even. Even the most irritatingly uninformed of these articles acknowledge that not EVERYONE is silent; some people actually do sing with the worship leaders. In the three churches I’ve pastored so far, and in the churches before that where I volunteered, lots of people sang with me when I led. Lots. I know, because I could see them, and I could even hear them sometimes over the sound of my crazy rock music and pumping organ. Seriously though, there are lots of reasons people sing.

For example …

Some people sing because they love the music. Shocking, I know, but if you hear a song you like, it’s hard not to sing along. Believe it or not, some people really like classic hymnody. Songs like “And Can it Be” and “Take My Life and Let it be Consecrated” move something inside of them. Other people can’t help singing along to songs like “Oceans” or “Build Your Kingdom Here” or a myriad of other modern pieces. Some people like both. Some people sing along to songs like “Santo Santo Eres” or “Vengan Sus Hijos.” Some sing songs with words like “Agnus dei” or “Kyrie,” though admittedly not many; it seems that truly good music doesn't have an expiration date, but sadly those who love it do (the melody of the Philippians 2 hymn is lost to us for this very reason). But in every culture, a different sort of music points people towards God and helps them worship Him in song. It’s ok to like a certain kind of music. Really, it’s ok! If you like modern music, awesome - lots of people do. If you like classical hymnody, awesome - lots of other people do. If you like hip hop, awesome - lots of people do. But whatever you happen to like, don’t say that someone else’s “lacks theological depth” when what you really mean is that you don’t like their style - honestly, you’re showing your own ignorance of their culture and not your own intellectual prowess.

Judgement happens in churches, believe it or not, and so unfortunately, some people sing out of guilt or peer pressure. They look around them and see everyone else is singing, and they either don’t want to stick out, or they don’t want someone to judge them for silence. But as we’ll see next time, the same people will judge them for singing as well. I wish there was something we could do about this. I pray that if you’re singing out of guilt or pressure the songs start to take root and you’re able to ignore the haters around you and sing with a newfound freedom. Honestly, the haters aren’t worth your anxiety; and if you need silence, take it.

Some people sing because they know it will help them change. Music can help us change our attitude in something called “action-reflection” learning. Basically, it means that we don’t feel like singing, but we sing anyway until we start to feel like singing. Think of a Sunday morning when the kids were awful or the drive to church was fraught with arguments and stress. You arrive, but your mind keeps going to that project at work you have to finish on Monday, or to the book the kids ripped before you left. So you arrive, and you just don’t feel like it, but the worship leader steps up to the mic and says “join me as we sing!” She sounds too chipper for how you feel, but you hear the melody and you start to sing. And sometimes, by the second or third song, you realize that you’ve released the anxiety of those things to God and you’ve been able to sing. It might not work for everyone, but if you haven’t had that experience, I suggest that you try it this week; you might be surprised at how God speaks to you through the music.

I saved the best for last though. I know it can be cliche, but Christians sing in the first place because the Spirit has moved them. Translated out of Christianese, God has done something in the lives of these people and they respond as so many before them - in song. Not a single culture is without music in some form, which means that music is the culturally universal way of expressing what’s happened inside of us, of expressing our hopes and dreams and fears and joys and sorrows. In response to God’s mercy, one thing Christians do is sing. Some people sing hymns. Some people sing rock ballads. Some people sing along with a banjo (though for the life of me I don’t know why). Some people sing in amelodic rhythmic percussion (beatbox, hip hop, rap - yes it is music, even if you don’t like it). Some people sing without words. Some people sing with only words (a capella). Though the method and the words may differ, they all sing in response to the mercy they’ve been offered. In the words of an old spiritual, “I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free” … They’re forgiven, and they know it.

So they sing.

Next time, we’ll talk about why someone might choose not to sing. Stay tuned …

Vertigo

I was laid flat with vertigo most of the day on Friday. It started around 4am, when I woke up suddenly feeling like I was spinning around on a centrifuge, burning up and freezing at the same time. If I lay really still, I almost felt normal, but that illusion would disappear as soon as I’d either open my eyes or move my head slightly. Then, I’d see the room start sliding one direction or the other, usually towards the left, and as I closed them again, I’d feel like I was back in the centrifuge.

Oddly enough, I never actually threw up.

The little semicircular canals in the middle ear are the bits that aid with balance (or, as wikipedia calls it, “equilibrioception”); they’re our own personal gyroscopes. Mine are known, in my family, for their hypersensitivity - they’re just the worst. Because of this, I’ve thrown up in multiple states and countries on multiple vacations, making my family miserable because I got car sick at inopportune times (although, really, IS there an opportune time?). But this time I didn’t. And the reason might actually be the fact that I AM so sensitive - because I’ve been through this before. Sometimes, my ears just don’t tell me what’s really going on, a fact of which I’ve become acutely aware. I know and accept that my ears are not infallible, and have often failed me, causing my body to do things it really shouldn’t (like vomiting, which is just about the worst feeling ever). Even as I lay in bed, it occurred to me that, though my eyes told me otherwise, my wife couldn’t possibly be walking around the apartment unless it really wasn’t rotating in three simultaneous directions.

What we think we’re experiencing isn’t always what’s real. When the world feels like it’s spinning out of control, it might be that whatever we’re using to measure that or experience that is actually broken and needs fixing. “We do not lose heart,” Paul writes; “though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” Peel back the layers, he says, and there’s always way more going on that you can’t see. Sometimes what’s going on right in front of you isn’t what you think; sometimes, what you think you see or hear isn’t really there (or sometimes something is there you don’t think you see); sometimes, your body or your mind betray you; sometimes, your senses are wrong.

It takes courage to see this.

How many of us, when the world feels like it's warped and twisted into unrecognizably dizzying shapes, have tried to lay still just to make the hurting stop? Change can render the best of us inert, frozen, unable to move in the direction we've been called because it can be so disorienting. Our collective senses are designed for what’s right in front of us, which means we’ve been built to trust God for the rest of the story, for the things that haven’t yet happened. 

When I'm a passenger in a car, and I find that we're starting to pull a bunch of hair-pin turns through canyons or mountains, I've discovered that the best place to focus is not on the road in front of me, but on the road far ahead. When I keep my eyes focused on the bigger perspective of my orientation to the end, rather than the spinning and bouncing of the now, I survive the lurching feeling of a car that feels out of control. Dizziness still happens, because the windy road I'm driving must still stay in my peripheral vision, but it's manageable; I can still make it to where I'm going. In our spiritual vertigo, the things of the now can be deceptive if we try to forecast them forward; only God sees the bigger picture, and so we must trust that God is working for the redemption of this world. This is why we’re so often told to focus on the end-game of the Kingdom, and not to focus on the short-term wins and losses. Things of the past can point us towards this reality - the incarnation, the cross and resurrection, and the many times in our personal histories and in our world’s history when God came through for His creation.

But once again, this is why it is called “faith” - we can walk, even run, despite that our eyes sometimes say the ground is missing and our ears tell us that we're falling, spinning out of control. If we're running where God is leading, our feet will always find purchase, though 'purchase' may look very different than we might expect. When the world begins falling apart, we'll survive the hairpin turns when our eyes strain to see what God sees: 

redemption, restoration, and a Kingdom that will never end.