June 2009

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As a reviewer, I am called to weigh in on matters of style. When I say whether one folk band is as good as a different folk band, it is my own opinion. People can believe it due to my experience in the field, or disbelieve it due to my subjectiveness (because reviews are inevitably and inextricably subjective, if we get right down to it).  That’s just my lot as a music reviewer.

But it would be foolish to try to compare genres and say which one is better or worse than any other. To say that indie-rock is better than pop-punk is at best elitist and at worst downright ignorant. To say that alt-country doesn’t hold a candle to techno is absolutely subjective, in that there’s no real way you can compare the two. Sure, you can find a couple comparisons, but they’re so general that they’re mostly useless. It would be like saying whether a dump truck is better than a BMW; they both have engines, and they both have wheels, but they still aren’t comparable in any meaningful way. Comparing genres is even less substantial than comparing bands within a genre.

Thus, it is with trepidation that I approach the topic that has been weighing heavy on me lately. The trepidation is compounded because this idea deals with a part of religion that people hold very dear: worship.

See, when I was a camper at New Life Ranch, NLR had a very distinct style of worship. It was pretty calm and very reverent. There were entire sets of songs that I have not heard anywhere else other than NLR. Seeing as I am a huge music person, this is part of what drew me to New Life Ranch. I have had some of my most important worship experiences within the walls of New Life Ranch.

As it is with all things, the Ranch has changed over time. As modern worship has exploded, New Life has adopted many of the songs from the Hillsong/Charlie Hall explosion and dropped off some of the older tunes. This is not a bad thing; ministries must change, or they will die. What is bad is what I have noticed as we move further and further into embrace of modern worship.

This is not purely a New Life phenomenon. Although I noticed it here, I have thought back to my church and ministries back home, and recognized some of it there. The problem is this: worship has become epic to the point of distraction.

See, Hillsong is a small army of extremely talented songwriters that seem to have set out to accomplish one thing: write epic songs. Any Hillsong tune you sing will have an epic chorus or bridge; all their songs have huge emotional swells that crest over a particular part of the song. This is not bad; this is good songwriting. The songs inspire emotions in people, and the experience is tremendous.

The problem is that the songwriting is so good that it’s dangerous. The songs so easily provoke an emotional response that it’s easy to want to sing certain songs just so we can have that emotion. If we are not careful, we will find ourselves  worshiping and seeking out the emotion as opposed to worshiping and seeking out the Lord.

This isn’t to say that all epic things are bad, or that emotion is wrong. I’m not advocating hymns only, nor do I support banning instruments from worship. But if we get into a habit where all we sing are songs that gratify our desires to find that emotion, instead of gratifying our desires to speak to God in a meaningful way about what he has done for us, we become like the Israelites in the Old Testament, who brought sacrifice upon sacrifice to no good end. God didn’t want misguided sacrifices. He wanted real worship, which was living rightly. He wanted the real thing, as opposed to what the Israelites thought was best.

And there are many people who connect with these epic worship songs in real ways. They are able to connect with God and glorify him through the singing of the songs and the production of emotion that is resultant. I pray that they continue to find God in these moments, and not find the joy that music brings. I have no problem listening to these songs; they are great. But singing along to a rock song and worshiping the Lord should come from different parts of ourselves. We should have a personal response to the Lord, because he has a personal relationship with us. Worship songs help draw us to remembrance of that which he has done for us. Just singing is, well, just singing. The connection with the intellect (Lord, I am able to say “blessed be your name,” even now when I am single, I don’t know my future, etc.) is vital to true worship.

And sometimes a song of joy is necessary; a song that just expresses the joy that God has been good to us. The intellect may not be engaged at all during the experience. But the impetus (Thus God has done for me! Rejoice!) is why you are worshiping.

I fear that those who accustom themselves to receiving an emotional experience from worship and attribute it to God moving in their life will be sorely disappointed when the joy of singing a certain song or songs wears off. They may attribute their inability to “worship as they feel God” to a dry spell in their life. It is never good to attribute that which is really our selfishness (“I can’t worship the way I want, so I can feel God!”) to what God is doing in our lives. There are some pretty dramatic warnings about this in the gospels.

That’s why I’m concerned about epic worship. It’s not the worship songs themselves, but the feelings they produce in Christians that concern me. I think that we should have balance in worship: some hymns, some older songs, some modern songs, some silence, some prayer, some verbal praise to God. We do all these things in our daily lives as Christians; why do we limit our “worship times” to simply music, or, as is put forth here, one kind of music?

Furthermore, we do not live our lives in a continuously epic manner. It seems odd that we would strive to have a consistently emotionally intensive experience every time we go into corporate worship when that is not comparable to how we live our lives. The Christian body is not supposed to be a group of people who come together to feel good, then go out into the world to do their thing on their own. The Christian body is supposed to be woven into how we relate to the world. The body is not a once or twice-a-week event; it should be a continuous lifestyle, of which corporate worship is a part of and a reflection of.

Intending every corporate worship session be emotionally intensive would be like friends having a deep conversation every time they see each other. To wit, there are people who do have intense conversations every time they meet. But the vast majority of friendships reflect the lives of the people who are in them: there are high times, low times, intense times, far times, and everything in between.

The body of Christ should be like this. And it is not simply emotional, epic worship that makes it not like this. There is so much more that needs to be done. But it is the place of emotional worship that is the facet I am dealing with right now. I think we need some more balance, and the balance to epicry is reverence; the appreciation and awe of how big, grand, mighty and powerful he is, and how small we are in comparison. Be still and know he is God. Let that emotion fill you, as well as the rapturous.

May we never confuse our emotions for God. May we be ever more reverent of Him. Amen.

Heaven is a peculiar concept for me. The very point of it is something so good we cannot imagine it fully; it is not something that can even be fully imagined here on Earth, much less achieved. That’s the whole point of it.

But its inscrutable qualities are what make it so difficult for me. What does it mean to live forever? Eternity is scary, because my spirit (which knows it to be a good thing) is corrupted by evil fleshliness. What does it mean that there will be a new heaven and a new earth? How will we be excited and adventuresome in heaven if there is no conflict? Conflict, after all, is necessary to story. You can’t have a story without conflict (Even Once, which has almost no plot, has a conflict). What, exactly, will we be doing up there?

I started thinking about this as I read the passage of Scripture in which Jesus blasts the Sadducees (who didn’t believe in the resurrection of the body) while they’re trying to trap him.

The Sadducees come to him and tell a story in which one woman is married (legally) to seven brothers in succession. “Whose wife is she in heaven?” they ask.

Jesus sidesteps their trap (the trap is more confusing to me than Jesus’ response, so I won’t elucidate it here). He says, “At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven.” (Matthew 22:30).

I struggle with this passage too, because I assume that when I am married, I’m going to want to spend eternity with that person. That seems logical; you grow to love them as close as two people can, then continue that on into the afterlife. This is a common theme in fiction of all varieties.

But Jesus does not read cheap romance novels, apparently. He dashes the idea of marriage in heaven on the rocks.

This distressed me, to say the least. But Jesus always has something better in store. So I thought about why Jesus would say “no marriage in heaven,” and what could possibly be an improvement.

And I have an idea. It could be wrong, but here we go. See, we have finite bodies here on Earth. Our fleshly bodies were created to be with one person, and one person only. But our spirits have existed before our bodies, and will continue to exist afterward. And when our bodies are lifted, the limitations on our bodies will be lifted as well. As spirits, without time, we’ll be able to know everyone intimately. And by intimately, I mean in an closer-than-marriage way. A closer-than-sex way. We will know and be known perfectly in heaven, not only by God, but by everyone else in the world, everyone else in time.

We will be more than married to everyone. The reason we will not be married in heaven is because it is too exclusive. It is not big enough. We will be even closer to our spouse than we were here on Earth, and we will be that close to every other Christian we meet in heaven.

I feel less scared about heaven when I think of it that way. And I could be wrong. But God wants to bring us into relationship with him; and a perfect relationship with him is what is promised in heaven. And if everyone in heaven is in perfect relationship with him, would it not make sense that we all are in perfect relationship with each other? There would be no possible barriers; not even time would be a problem.

We will be more than married. To everyone.

I often tell people that it is not for us to decide whether we fail or succeed in ministry. That part is totally up to God. We are only responsible for being willing to do what God wants us to, and responding appropriately to situations that God presents us with.

This is fairly easy for me when I’m doing evangelism. I have come to peace with the fact that I am a person who knows lots of people who don’t follow Christ, and it’s my ministry to bring them closer to knowing Christ. If I don’t see them come to actually know Christ, I am okay. That is not my part of the ministry.

But I encountered a situation today that tested my little mantra up there. As part of my job as the SLA, I have to maintain and update spreadsheets that determine where campers go at what time for activity classes. This is extremely challenging; there are literally thousands of pieces of information, and many of the pieces of information rely on a different piece to work.

I am pretty organized, but I am baffled by spreadsheets. Formulas, multiple documents, multiple workbooks, broken formulas… it all gets really intense. And then I screw up stuff.

The first time I chalked it up to newness. This week I made more mistakes, and not entirely different ones (I think I made some of the same mistakes from last week, only in a different order, which made me unable to figure out how to fix the problem).

In short, I am not very good at spreadsheets. And seeing as it is a part of my ministry this summer, it is distressing to me that I am sucking at something that is a major part of what I do (I get it right in the end, but it’s very stressful and takes much longer than it should). Ironically, I am failing at Excel.

Which is where the mantra comes in. If I buy my own line, it is not the success or failure of my Excel use that determines whether or not Jesus is glorified through my work. It’s my attitude. And let me tell you, my attitude has not been great. I am not using to being bad at anything; I work very hard to make sure that I am not bad at anything I attempt. But this is beyond me; the more I try, the more I seem to screw it up.

Obviously, something is not what it should be. And in this case, I think it is going to be my attitude that changes. I don’t see myself magically gaining Excel prowess (although I do see myself slowing growing better at it), so in the short run I must change what I can: my attitude.

And my attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
– Philippians 2:5-11

Once again, Jesus humbles me.

Things I have done so far at camp:

1. Organized and distributed printouts of a massive Excel spreadsheet that had eight or nine workbooks in it and several thousand (literally) pieces of information. I was not very good at it, but in the end it all happened the way it should (yay!) with only three kids disappointed (even more yay!).

2 . Printed off scads of paperwork.

3. Danced onstage at MCP.

4. Helped train the AV tech.

5. Ran all over camp checking in campers because of a problem.

6. Worked as a ropes tech.

7. Cleaned up ropes island.

8. Supposed to help out with Leadership Development Check-in, but I was doing something else.

9. Assisted the photographer and videographer in getting cabins’ photos/videos done.

10. Restocked the Canteen.

All that in the first twenty-four hours. This summer is going to be crazy. Never boring, but always crazy. Yay?

Okay, so I’ve been injured a lot recently. Just cuts and bruises (mostly), but a lot of injuries. Then again, when you’re doing the stuff I’m doing:

1. Fell off a log after eating lunch in uncharted wilderness. Result: scraped heel of hand, bruised back.
2. Got a rock in eye during a teambuilding activity on an uncharted trail. Result: eyepatch for most of the day, in addition to previous injury.
3. Fell down part of a small waterfall, due to lack of depth perception because of eyepatch. Result: scraped leg, heel to back of knee.
4. Blood blister during powerball. As I was the coach, I’m not sure how this happened.
5. Splinter under pinky fingernail while moving some wood out of a building.
6. Scraped knee jumping over a wall.
7. Scraped arm after breakdancing on woodchips (I’m serious).
8. Cut on right wrist resulting from falling out of top bunk because of a nightmare (I think…this is the only logical place this injury could have occurred).
9. Cut and bruises above left eye due to being hit in face with a pool noodle during noodle hockey.
10. Ripped toenail after stabbing pinky toe through my sneaker while executing a cut during basketball.
11. Headache from laughing so hard at the talent show last night.
12. Miscellaneous cuts and splinters on my right hand that I couldn’t tell you where they came from.
13. Reopening of cut on heel of hand during the rugby-esque game flicker.
14. Poison Ivy on the ankle after clearing out an island filled with it (it went away quickly).

Despite this, I feel great. I love camp. I love the fact that I can make this list and laugh about it. Being dirty, tired, banged up and excited is just part of camp. Ah, camp.