Recently, a friend asked me what I thought of the praise song “Holy Ground” and whether we should sing it in worship. There are a couple of songs with that title, but I think the version he’s talking about is this one. It doesn’t really matter; the other “Holy Ground” says similar things. Apparently, the argument goes that the idea of a church building being holy ground is unscriptural, so we shouldn’t sing it.
I have a couple of problems with that. First, I’m not entirely sure that it’s correct. As I understand things, in Scriptural terms, something is holy when it is dedicated to God’s purposes.
Isn’t that true of our church buildings? If that’s not true, if we don’t believe that our church buildings should be dedicated entirely to God’s purposes, why do we object so strenuously to church buildings containing fellowship halls, gyms, and so forth? Conversely, if they are dedicated entirely to God’s purposes (like the meat of sacrifices under the Law, for instance), isn’t there at least a sense in which they are holy?
However, even stipulating that the above is not true, there’s another problem with objecting to “Holy Ground”. Sure, it’s possible to read the lyrics as being about the literal floor of the church building. However, it’s equally possible to read them metaphorically. “We are standing on holy ground,” is a clear reference to Exodus 3:5.
When we sing “Holy Ground”, then, we are putting ourselves in the position of Moses, in the same way that we put ourselves in the position of the apostles in the boat when we sing “Master, the Tempest Is Raging” and of Mary Magdalene when we sing “In the Garden”. Nobody objects to either because we aren’t really on the Sea of Galilee or really standing in front of Joseph’s tomb. Why is it problematic that we aren’t really in front of the burning bush either?
All of this raises a larger issue, though: the question of how we deal with hymns with questionable content when we are invited to sing them in the assembly. The first approach is to object to any song that could be misunderstood. This leads to discouraging others by our refusal to sing, strife in the church, and ultimately the compilation of a “ban list” that excludes many of our richest hymns.
Do we axe “The Solid Rock” because the last verse can be read as Calvinist (and indeed was written by a Calvinist)? How about “Amazing Grace”, which easily can be read as proclaiming salvation by faith only (which John Newton believed in)? Sad to say, a great many of the hymns that can survive such hostile scrutiny are those that don’t have much content in the first place. They might be “Scriptural”, but when it comes to the Colossians 3:16 goals of teaching and admonishing, they’re nearly useless.
Instead of asking if a hymn can be understood wrongly, we’re far better off asking if it can be understood rightly. Is there a way that I can square singing this hymn with my conscience? This is the option that I prefer. I certainly have my share of opinions about good and bad hymns, but I will almost never refuse to sing a hymn, nor even talk to a song leader about that hymn after services.
First of all, who am I to tell somebody they’re worshiping wrong when they very well could be worshiping right? Second, when my brother is pouring out his heart in worship, do I really want him to glance over and see me sitting there mutely with an expression on my face like I’d just bitten into a green persimmon? Third, doesn’t refusing to sing boil down to looking for reasons not to praise God, rather than reasons to praise Him? If that’s where my heart is, I’m not OK with that.
In real life, if offered the opportunity to lead singing, I’m probably not going to lead “Holy Ground”. I think there are better options out there. However, if I’m in the pews, and I’m asked to sing “Holy Ground”, I will do so.
I will think about Moses. I will reflect on the holiness that God’s presence demands. Generally, I will do my best to sing with spirit and understanding in the hope that my brethren will be edified and my God will be glorified.
Hymn critique has its place, but the assembly isn’t it.
During our monthly singing last Sunday evening, we sang Charli Couchman’s “The Lord Is My Light”. I love the hymn. I think it’s one of Charli’s best, and indeed one of the best hymns written by brethren in the 20th century.
“The Lord Is My Light” is based on Psalm 27, and as psalm paraphrases tend to, it has excellent content. My favorite line appears in the second verse. It reads, “I will not despair; Your goodness sustains me.” Charli took it from the NASB ’77 reading of Psalm 27:13.
The path from David’s original in v. 13 to “The Lord Is My Light” is an interesting one. Apparently, there is a divergence in manuscripts. Some of them read as reflected in the ESV, “I believe that I shall look on the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
The other reading (followed by the NASB, the NKJV, and older translations, says something like, “Oh! Had I not believed that I shall. . .” In other words, if I had not believed that I would see God’s goodness, it would have been bad. The original NASB tried to capture this thought by saying, “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
That’s a neat idea, but its expression is about as elegant as a snoring teenager (par for the course for the NASB, alas!). Charli had a meter to fit, as hymnists always do, so she compacted the concept to the form it takes in “The Lord Is My Light”.
However, as is often the case with paraphrase, something was both lost and gained. The NASB rendering is retrospective. It looks back on trial and says, “I wouldn’t have gotten through that, except for my faith in God.”
Charli’s version is more daring. Much more. It is prospective. It looks to the future and defiantly proclaims that it will not lose heart. I will not despair, no matter what!
That’s the spiritual equivalent of signing a blank check and giving it to somebody else. It is a promise to continue steadfastly, regardless of how many zeroes of trial life may fill in. Bring it on, time and chance! Bring it on, devil! I still won’t despair.
In isolation, such a promise is brash, almost foolhardy. Aren’t you aware of all the disasters that can happen to a human being in this fallen world? Who knows what horrible things your future may hold?
“The Lord Is My Light”, though does not focus on all the unknowns. It focuses on the one known. It focuses on the certainty that God will be faithful to perform what He has promised. His goodness need not even appear now to sustain us. As long as we remain convinced that it will appear, that hope is sufficient to reassure us.
I sing all of “The Lord Is My Light” with great joy, but I especially love to sing that promise. I will not despair. Not ever. I don’t care if Satan and all his angels hear it. Indeed, I hope they do! However, my boast is not in my own strength of character. It is entirely in the sustaining goodness of God.
At the end of this year’s new-hymn class at Jackson Heights, we went through and recorded a dozen of the songs we’d learned through the quarter. I’ve spent the past couple of days listening to the CD in the car, not only from a worshiper’s perspective, but from a hymnist’s perspective.
Over the past decade, I’ve slowly learned that there are some things you can’t tell about a hymn or spiritual song until you sing it. For one, there are some arrangements that look fine on the page but prove to be a booger to sing. Most importantly, though, you can’t tell whether a hymn will generate buy-in from brethren until you hear them sing it. There is a difference in sound between singers going through the motions and singers pouring out their hearts in worship.
Buy-in is the single most important attribute of a spiritual song. It determines whether it will be used congregationally or not. If a hymn does not have buy-in, it’s like faith without works. It doesn’t matter how skillfully written or intellectually profound the hymn is. If people don’t want to sing it, it’s dead.
As I was listening to the CD, then, I was listening for the telltale evidence of buy-in. I heard it, among several other places, in the Clint Rhodes song “Break My Heart”. “Break My Heart” is written in a style I don’t use. If I had been invited to edit it, I would have had some technical critiques to offer.
However, if a sacred song draws Christians into worship, it’s doing its job, and “Break My Heart” manifestly does that. I think it works, and I think it works for two reasons:
Accessible Content. “Break My Heart” is a song about the Christian’s struggle with sin. Particularly, it’s about the times when we don’t want to do good, but we want to want to. It’s a plea to God to overcome the stubborn resistance within us so that we can devote ourselves to Him.
Every Christian with an ounce of self-awareness will identify with this struggle. All of us will wrestle with sin for as long as we live, and that conflict exists because our flesh wants to sin. We need God’s help, we know we need God’s help, and so we want to sing a song that is about asking God for help.
Use of Counter-Melody. Recently, I’ve been reflecting a lot on the difference between songs written for a praise band and songs written for the congregation. There are a lot of things that praise bands can do that congregations can’t. Most notably, they can have a more extreme vocal range and use more complicated rhythms. G5 in the melody will murder congregations on Sunday mornings. So too will those dotted-eighth/sixteenth rhythms that mimic the vocal stylings of a lead singer.
However, there are things that congregations do well that praise bands really don’t. First on my list is the employment of counter-melody. Typically, the lead singer of a praise band is The Lead. They don’t want to step back and let somebody else in the band take over for a little bit.
However, congregations enjoy passing the melody back and forth or singing two melodies simultaneously with different rhythms. Many of the most prominent songs that come from a-cappella traditions reflect this. Think “Our God, He Is Alive”, for instance. The same is true of “Break My Heart”. The song really comes alive once you get to the chorus and the alto/tenor counter-melody. They make it musically satisfying.
Fundamentally, I’m a pragmatist. What ought to be is all well and good, but you have to pay attention to what works. “Break My Heart” works, at least in a group that can pull off a tenor counter-melody. Both song leaders and writers ought to pay attention.
From time to time, somebody will critique my hymn critiques by saying that I spend too much time on the intellectual side of hymns and not enough on the emotional side. Certainly, when it comes to emotion in worship, there are things worth discussing, and I’ve discussed them extensively.
However, it is true that I don’t spend a lot of time arguing that we need to sing more emotional hymns in worship. Differently emotional hymns, yes, but not really that the emotional level of our repertoire is too low.
This is true for two reasons. First, I think that to the extent that we have emotional deficiencies in worship, those problems are much more likely to lie with the worshiper than the repertoire. God’s people have been struggling with going through the motions since Malachi 1, of not before, and the tradition of apathy in worship is alive and well.
However, the solution to the apathy problem doesn’t lie in the adoption of hymns that manufacture emotion. You can be a spectator at a rock concert and ride the emotional wave, but a-cappella congregational worship works differently. Only enthusiastic participants are likely to experience an emotional reaction. If brethren aren’t eager to participate enthusiastically, no hymn will move them. If, on the other hand, they arrive determined to rejoice, no hymn will prevent them. The cure for apathy must be found in the heart of the worshiper.
Second, overly intellectual hymns aren’t a problem in practice. I cannot think of a single hymn that has entered the repertoire in my lifetime that I would describe as emotionally deficient. Conversely, I have seen (and written!) dozens of hymns that sank without a trace because something about them didn’t work emotionally. In fact, this is the most common reason why my hymns (and the hymns of others in my circle) fail. A hymn that’s all content with no feeling is as dead as faith without works.
This is a problem that solves itself. No song leader selects uninspiring hymns because they have lots of sound Biblical teaching and are good for the congregation, like broccoli (a possible exception: singing “O Happy Day” when somebody’s about to get baptized). Instead, we sing the songs that move us. Not every hymn in the repertoire works for everybody, but all of them work for somebody. Brethren will sing the most vacuous lyrics imaginable if the music is emotionally powerful.
As a result, I don’t critique hymns for lack of emotion, any more than nutritionists critique diets for lack of potato chips and chocolate cake. Christians who have never thought about hymn content in their lives will still intuitively seek out hymns that they enjoy singing. Even people who don’t care about Bible authority and a-cappella worship will still look for an emotional experience in worship. This is the aspect of worship that human beings most naturally get right.
Other aspects, though, are more challenging. Unlike potato chips and chocolate cake, emotion in worship is good for us, but it doesn’t provide a balanced diet by itself. We’re called to sing not only with the spirit, but with the spirit and with the understanding.
However, because thinking about what we’re singing is effortful, brethren often don’t want to invest the effort. Emotional worship that is not also thoughtful is a problem, and it’s a problem that’s hard to avoid when we worship with content-light hymns. As a result, most of my commentary is focused on content. It’s not so much that I’m neglecting the role of emotion in hymns. It’s that I’m taking the presence of emotion for granted.