Worship and black islands

I went to chapel today at Tyndale for the first time in awhile. As we were standing and singing, I found myself, as usual, thinking about the words that were up on the screen. Anyone who knows me even sort of well knows that I care very much about what Christians call worship. So I stood in the back, thinking about what was being sung, trying to decide if it was right for me to sing along.

I don't even remember what song it was, but I remember looking at the lyrics, and thinking to myself that these were like the words I have prayed on my own many times, they were lyrics of praise, of devotion, that profess a love for God and a desire for His will to be done and His name to be known, and for one's own life to be one that God is pleased with.

Another thing that I noticed was that, even though the themes were familiar and orthodox, it still seemed strange to sing the words. I have a theory why that is.

First, I've been learning lately that the natural mind is in a state of rebellion towards God. Especially an educated mind will be resistant to the idea of serving or being humbled before anyone else. Scripturally, our natural state is selfish and self-serving, so it only makes sense that our natural mind would find the idea of submitting to another repulsive. And if this is the case, it would seem strange and awkward to sing of being humbled or of giving up those things which are dearest to me or that I am most proud of. The idea of being humbled is great, until it comes to actually doing it. Then it's hard work. The optimist might think that the songwriters have gotten their hearts and words right. The cynic would say that they are recycling Sunday school lessons and flippantly making them rhyme.

I find myself thinking a mix of the two. I think of some of the other significant figures in Christianity. Paul was a Pharisee; Peter was a traitor and liar; Martin Luther had a history of anti-Semitism; William Cowper suffered a crippling depression after his uncle forbade him to marry his cousin; Kierkegaard was something of a man-whore. On the one hand, I think the character of our Christian leaders is of great importance. On the other hand, God's grace is made perfect in our weakness, and he has chosen the foolish and insignificant things of the world to shame the wise. In other words, I believe that it is my destiny as a Christian to seek to know God and live like him; I also believe that God is sometimes best represented through wrecked and deficient people.

For a long time I really despised contemporary worship music. It seemed insincere, careless and showy. I haven't completely backed away from that position, but I have chosen to give songwriters the benefit of the doubt in a lot of cases. When someone writes "blessed be your name when I walk through the wilderness," I choose to believe that they have some genuine desire to bring honour and glory to God.

I also think they need to try harder. Songwriting is an art, and I feel like there are too many unimaginative four-chord worship songs out there.

All in all, I'm glad that I went to chapel today, and I look forward to doing some more thinking about worship.

Also, one or two people might recognise that the title of this post is taken from a poem by Mike Bonikowsky. He is a superb poet who I'm excited to feature for the rest of the year in Canon25.