Hallelujah! What a Savior!“Man of Sorrows!”—what a name
For the Son of God who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim!
Hallelujah! what a Savior!Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood,
Sealed my pardon with His blood;
Hallelujah! what a Savior!Guilty, vile, and helpless we,
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
Full atonement!—can it be?
Hallelujah! what a Savior!Lifted up was He to die,
“It is finished!” was His cry;
Now in heaven exalted high,
Hallelujah! what a Savior!When He comes, our glorious King,
All His ransomed home to bring,
Then anew this song we’ll sing:
Hallelujah! what a Savior! Words and music: Philip P. Bliss
HALLELUJAH! WHAT A SAVIOR, 7.7.7.8
Category Archives: Worship
Lenten Song of the Week
Last year during Lent, I posted Isaac Watts’ greatest hymn, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”; this year, I think I’ll start off Lent with another of his great ones (minus the frankly execrable Ralph Hudson chorus).
Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed?Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sov’reign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For sinners such as I?Was it for sins that I have done
He suffered on the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!Well might the sun in darkness hide
And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the great Redeemer, died
For man the creature’s sin.But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away—
‘Tis all that I can do. Words: Isaac Watts
Music: Hugh Wilson
MARTYRDOM, CM
The Jesus heresy?
Perhaps the most thought-provoking session I attended last week was one I took as a second choice after something else had filled up, a session with Lester Ruth on the view of God in contemporary worship music. I thought it would be interesting, but I didn’t expect a lot more than that. I was positively surprised. Dr. Ruth (no jokes, please) is a Methodist pastor and worship historian who teaches at Asbury Seminary and the Webber Institute for Worship Studies, and what he had done was to take 15 years’ worth of top-25 lists from CCLI and analyze the songs they included (72 in his sample) for their Trinitarian content. The results, which can now be found (in updated form) in chapter 1 of the book The Message in the Music: Studying Contemporary Praise & Worship, were dispiriting; they revealed not only a near-total absence of the Trinity in the most popular songs of the contemporary church, but very little explicit awareness of either the Father or the Holy Spirit. Jesus got the most attention, but even then, only about half the songs were addressed to him; most were generic. As Dr. Ruth noted, on the whole, the songs he examined could be described as “functionally Unitarian.”
There’s a lot that could be said about his findings, including various aspects I haven’t mentioned (such as the paucity of references to the saving work of God, even with all the songs directed to Christ), but what struck me the most was this question Dr. Ruth posed to us: “Is it possible to worship Jesus too much?” In thinking about it, I’d have to say that it is. There’s a lot of insistence in evangelical circles that our faith is all about Jesus, that Christian piety has a cruciform shape, that our worship has to be Christ-centered, and the like, and in a way, all of that is true; but when it leads us into a sort of Jesus-only Unitarianism, which seems to be the case in a lot of churches, then that ceases to be true. British Methodist scholar Susan White, in raising this question, titled her paper, What Ever Happened to the Father?: The Jesus Heresy in Modern Worship, and if her title is provocative, I think it’s on point.
The reason for this is that if our worship is Christocentric, as it should be, but not fully Trinitarian, as it also needs to be, then it distorts our understanding of Jesus; we cannot be properly Christocentric if we are not also Trinitarian. We need to remember that it isn’t all about Jesus, because Jesus wasn’t all about Jesus; his purpose was to point people to the Father. Similarly, while we are united with Christ, we are united by the Holy Spirit, and so we cannot understand who we are in Christ if we leave the Spirit out. It is in Christ that God most fully revealed himself to us, and God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, and so Jesus is our entry point into the life of the Triune God; our worship must be Christocentric because there’s simply no other place to start. However, while we must start there, we must not stop there; to borrow from Stephen Seamands, we need to offer worship in Jesus Christ, the Son, to the Father, through the Holy Spirit, if we are to worship God truly. If we direct our worship to Jesus alone, our worship is false—even our worship of Jesus.
Morning prayer
I watch this morning
for the light that the darkness has not overcome.
I watch for the fire that was in the beginning
and that burns still in the brilliance of the rising sun.
I watch for the glow of life that gleams in the growing earth
and glistens in sea and sky.
I watch for your light, O God,
in the eyes of every living creature
and in the ever-living flame of my own soul.
If the grace of seeing were mine this day
I would glimpse you in all that lives.
Grant me the grace of seeing this day.
Grant me the grace of seeing.—J. Philip Newell, Celtic Benediction: Morning and Evening Prayer, 2.
As a pastor, that’s a beautiful note on which to begin the service of the Lord’s Day.
Whose table?
The Symposium concluded today, leaving me with a 2 1/2-hour drive home and much to ponder on it, and for time to come (and no doubt a lot to comment on as well). As always, it concluded with a communion service. For some reason, as we celebrated the sacrament, I found myself feeling somewhat detached and disconnected. This was strange—as a pastor, I’m usually the celebrant, and I relish opportunities just to receive—and it concerned me. Was something wrong with me? Was I failing to do my part?
And then, though I wouldn’t say my mind cleared (or my heart, for that matter), I did remember something important: this isn’t my work. The sacrament isn’t something I do, and it isn’t about anything I do; I wouldn’t say that just showing up is enough, or that it doesn’t matter at all how I receive it, but fundamentally, like all of worship, it’s not about me. It’s not about anything I do, and it’s not my own effort or my own piety or my own anything that makes it meaningful, or makes it work. It’s all about God, and what he did in Christ—it’s his table, not mine—and what he did is valid regardless of how I happen to be feeling about it at any given point; however focused or not I might be, however pious or not I might be feeling, what matters is simply that I receive it, and that I do so with gratitude whether I feel that gratitude or not. Repentance is accepting being found.
In the wilderness
One of the sessions on my schedule today was Michael Card and Calvin Seerveld teaching on lament in corporate worship. The highlight of the session for me was this sentence: “All true worship begins in the wilderness.” We don’t tend to think that way—we tend to treat our worship services as oases, as if we could shut out the wilderness and pretend it isn’t there; but it’s the truth. All true worship begins with God calling us in the wilderness—in the midst of our struggles and pains and difficulties—and us bringing ourselves to God in response to his call. All of ourselves; God wants nothing less. If we try to begin our worship anywhere else, if we try to leave the wilderness out (or keep it out) of our worship, then to a greater or lesser extent, we’re being fake with God—and that’s false worship.
Scott Hoezee (that’s pronounced “José,” for those unfamiliar with Dutch names) made a similar point in the worship service yesterday morning, preaching on Hebrews 2. The author of Hebrews draws on Psalm 8 to make his claim that everything has been placed in subjection to Jesus, and that “everything” means everything; Jesus Christ is Lord of everything and everybody, no ifs, ands, or buts, and has authority over all of it. And then, just when you might expect another round statement about the power and greatness of Jesus, you get instead this honest confession, “At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him.” As Scott put it, “And the people of God said, ‘No kidding.’ . . . It’s the sort of statement where you don’t know whether to say ‘Amen’ or ‘Duh!'”
When we look around, we most definitely don’t see everything in subjection to Jesus; we see a cracked, fallen, messed up, evil-infected world. “But,” continues Hebrews, “we see Jesus.” Though we don’t see him reigning unchallenged as Lord, we nevertheless see him “crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone”; we see him who entered into our world, and into our suffering, and bore it with us, and for us. And we see that it’s because of that that all things have been placed in subjection to him—and that until that is fully realized, we see him in it with us. Which means that if we deny the reality of our fallen world in our worship—if we fail to begin in the wilderness—then we do him no honor, for we are in effect denying his work and his presence.
Repentance: accepting being found
First day of the symposium: seminar with Kenneth Bailey on “Jesus as Theologian” and plenary session with Dallas Willard on “Worship as the Fine Texture of Life in Christ.” In other words, an embarrassment of riches, and certainly more to think about than I can absorb in one day—and it’s only the beginning. One thing that particularly struck me, though, was this from Dr. Bailey’s analysis of the Parable of the Lost Sheep (Luke 15:1-7):
Repentance is defined as acceptance of being found. The sheep is lost and helpless and yet it is a symbol of repentance. Repentance becomes a combination of the shepherd’s act of rescue and the sheep’s acceptance of that act.
In other words, our repentance is one more act of the grace of God, not our hard work in which we can take pride, but something God does for us which we gratefully receive. In the later (and better-known) Parable of the Two Lost Sons (usually miscalled the Parable of the Prodigal Son), the prodigal’s repentance doesn’t come in the far country—that’s just a scheme to work his way back into favor; his repentance comes in the village, when his heart breaks at his father’s sacrifice for him, and he accepts being found; he accepts being welcomed back into the family without his having earned it.
The gift of worship
Continuing with the “random Web discovery” thing, here’s something else I missed during the moving process. Hap had embedded this video in one of her posts last month, but I only just discovered it, apparently by chance, this morning. (“Apparently by chance” being a pseudonym for the Holy Spirit.) Since I’m heading off this evening for the Symposium on Worship that the Calvin Institute for Christian Worship puts on every January (it starts tomorrow), the topic is very much on my mind.
I’ll comment a bit more on this later.
Musings on worship, illustrated by the Songs of the Week
The last week or so has been really rough; but God is good, and rough weeks end, the sun still shines after the rain, and that’s as worthy a reason to give praise as any.
As I write this, I have “Thinking of You,” a cut from the new/old band Future of Forestry, playing through my computer speakers, and that’s a good reason to give praise, too. I say “new/old band” because this is the same group as the worship band Something Like Silas—they reinvented themselves and went off in a new musical direction, under a new name. Fortunately, from the first listen (I’m now on to “Sanctitatis”), they brought their musical and songwriting gifts with them.
Anyway, if you’ll pardon the right turn—I’ll come back to Something Like Silas in a minute—I’ve been thinking about a conversation I had with a friend of mine a week or two ago about worship. This friend is one of the worship leaders for a big-city megachurch/satellite church/pocket denomination/whatever you want to call it; they seem to be doing great work for the kingdom, but from some of the comments my friend has made, I’m wondering when the folks leading that congregation will hit their Dave Johnson moment. Right now, they seem to be on top of the elephant; but they’re making some decisions that, from the outside (and a considerable distance—no churches that size up here), I wonder about.
For one, I understand they recently issued the dictum that in worship (which is to say, in the singing part of worship), 3/4 of the songs need to be songs addressed to God, not songs about God. Which, OK, I can see the reasoning on this, but (as my friend pointed out), there are a couple of problems here. First, if you’re trying to lead a church across multiple campuses, you need to accept that those are in truth different congregations, different gatherings of people, with different needs, which thus must be led differently. Trying to centralize decision-making in worship planning really isn’t a good idea—there needs to be some degree of freedom for the folks with leadership responsibilities at the individual sites to do what is appropriate and fitting for them, not just what someone halfway across the metro area thinks is a good idea.
And second, songs addressed to God are, logically, songs in the first person; and unfortunately, given the way folks write, they tend to be in the first person singular—”I” songs. Looking at the landscape of what is generally called contemporary worship music, the great majority of “I” songs tend to be focused on me and my experience and what I’m doing for God. As such, the dictum to give most of the time to songs addressed to God will likely tend to produce a shift toward songs that are actually more about me and myself—not about who God is, not about who we are as the body of Christ, but about what I’m doing and feeling. Doing and feeling about God, yes, but . . . well, just think of the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14) if you don’t see what I’m talking about.
That said, this shift is far from inevitable, even if it is the course of least resistance; and here’s where Something Like Silas comes in. I only have their last album, Divine Invitation—as yet, I haven’t picked up any of their indie releases—but while their songs are very personal expressions of worship, mostly “I” songs, they’re also songs which are unquestionably focused on God; some are expressions of praise, while others are heartfelt prayers for God to act. So, since I missed posting a song for last week, I thought I’d post an example of each, two tracks off Divine Invitation.
Words That You SaySpeak in this close communion,
Though this hour seems timeless still,
I wait for your words that bid me come.
Breathe in me, Holy Spirit,
The will when my tomorrow comes
To follow when this song is gone.So I await the words that you say—
I open my life;
I am longing just to hear these words
That you say, that you say.Shape me with words of wisdom,
Free my torn heart from this world;
Renew my mind and form my will.
Teach me to wholly offer
More than words that I can sing,
So I become the song I bring.ChorusCan I be an instrument of praise
And here pursue your heart,
So my life will tell of who you are?
Can I be a channel of your love,
A reflection of your light,
And live to bring you praise and serve you, Lord?ChorusWords and music: Eric Owyoung
©2004 Birdwing Music
From the album Divine Invitation, by Something Like SilasInfiniteLord, a thousand years go by,
Just a moment in your eyes,
‘Cause you alone are far beyond the infinite, O Lord.Lord, all the heavens sing to you,
You’re full of grace and truth,
And you alone are far beyond the infinite . . .So I’ll trust you when I cannot see;
So I’ll trust you when the shadows hover over me
And I’ll love you when the distance leaves me cold.
So I’ll love you . . . I will still believe that you are sovereign, Lord.Lord, your promises are true,
Your mercies always new,
Your love for us is far beyond the infinite, O Lord.Though I fear I walk alone,
You reach into my soul;
Your love for me is far beyond the infinite . . .ChorusI’m learning to trust,
I’m learning to feel,
I’m learning to love you always . . .ChorusWords and music: Eric Owyoung and Steve Hindalong
©2004 Birdwing Music/New Spring Publishing, Inc./Never Say Never Songs
From the album Divine Invitation, by Something Like Silas
Robert E. Webber, RIP
Last week, the church visible lost one of its great leaders; Robert E. Webber died last Friday, April 27, at the age of 73, eight months after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I can’t claim to have known him well, as some did; I did have the privilege of sitting under him for a session at the Symposium on Worship held by the Calvin Institute for Christian Worship, and of being on his e-mail list for a time after that. I learned a great deal from him, on that occasion and through many of his books (which are, I think, invaluable for anyone involved in any aspect of planning and/or leading worship); he was a wise and humble man whose focus was always on the God we worship, and who directed our attention to God as well.
Webber didn’t only write about worship—indeed, at the beginning of his career, teaching theology at Wheaton College, he focused on existentialism—but it’s as a theologian and teacher of worship that he’s best known, and for good reason. His influence on worship practices in the American church was great in every sense of the word; it’s overstating things, I think, to say that he “helped bring an end to the so-called ‘worship wars'” (in my experience, they aren’t over yet), but he certainly did a great deal to heal that wound in the American church, and to point many back to the critical truth that worship is about God, and for God, not us. He lived life to the glory of God, and helped many others of us do the same.
Requiescat in pace, Robert E. Webber; and to his wife Joanne, their four children, seven grandchildren, and all who knew and loved him, all the blessings and comfort of God in this time of mourning.