I thought for a long time about whether or not I wanted to write this post. Would I offend someone (assuming anyone reads this anyway)? Would I just be revealing my own cynicism? I’m not really sure. But it kept percolating, and after some more discussion with my home group, I’ve decided to push ahead. Please read this (if you read it) as the thoughts of someone wrestling with a discomfort of uncertain origin rather than a blanket judgment…
It is no big secret that as a child of the 1990s’ Christian subculture, there were a few experiences that did more harm than good when it came to my opinion of Christian community. Miraculously, my faith went more-or-less unharmed, which I credit mostly to my mother and her grounded, not-perfect-but-real faith she demonstrated to me year after year, trial after trial. I knew The Story was TRUE, I just realized after awhile that the culture I’d immersed myself in for so long was maybe not the one that reflected that Story in the best way possible. There didn’t seem to be room for anything but enthusiasm and passion and joy. I couldn’t figure out how to worship in the midst of deep sorrow, though I wanted to. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were trying to take worldly things and make them “good” rather than just create good things to begin with – not because there weren’t talented artists in our midst, but because it turns out offering a “Christian alternative” sells. It preys on our fears of choosing the wrong thing by making “safe” things, ways to not have to make a choice and do the right thing.
So I left. Not the faith, but the culture. I rejected The Prayer of Jabez. I read Harry Potter. I realized that the reason I loved stories of a certain kind was because they reflected The Story, even when there were “unsavory” parts to them. I walked away from emotion-laden contemporary worship choruses to organs and hymnals and liturgy. I chose the 17th century over the 21st. I found ways to worship God because He is good, not because I feel good. I walked labyrinths and read the Book of Common Prayer and sang in a choir full of middle-aged people who welcomed me with open arms, even though they knew I could only stay a few months. I remained conservative in theology and eventually found a home in my current denomination, which, for me, strikes the right balance between freedom in Christ and obedience to Christ.
When I pulled into the parking lot for the concert, I immediately had a sense of foreboding. I had mostly come to see a favorite singer-songwriter, well-known in Nashville but still touring with larger acts in other parts of the country. For this concert, she was touring with an old high school favorite, and I didn’t think much of it, except that it might be fun to hear them play again. I hadn’t looked into it any further than that, and had been to plenty of church-based concerts in the years since leaving the evangelical church (for lack of better term), so I had no reason to think this one would be any different.
Except that it was. It was apparent as I pulled in that this wasn’t just a church, it was a MegaChurch. There were signs labeling different parts of the parking lot A-Z. People were directing traffic. There was a car for the local Christian radio station parked outside of the main doors. A huge coffee shop and bookstore were just inside the doors. All my internal alarm bells went off. I looked around and found myself surrounded by Christian t-shirts that I thought had disappeared 15 years ago (the kind that look secular but when you read them, it’s all about God) and everywhere, everywhere, merchandise and children to sponsor.
I feel like I should add a disclaimer here: there is nothing inherently wrong with any of these things. All musicians have merchandise. For many, it’s the best way for them to make a living on tour. Tours are expensive, producing records is expensive, merch helps pay the bills. I get it. Likewise, there is nothing inherently wrong with a church that has a cafe or a bookstore. I’m sure it’s a nice place for church folk to hang out, have Sunday school, and perhaps make some money that supports the church ministries. These are the things I kept telling myself as I tried to catch my breath and convince myself not to turn right back around and walk out the door.
Once I made it to my seat, I tried to settle down, find my way to a less judgmental attitude, a softer heart, a more open mind. These were, after all, my brothers and sisters in Christ. They may not be “my people” here on earth, but they are definitely going to be “my people” in the forever Kingdom. This process, however, was interrupted by a church representative coming out to greet us, call the church by a cool (I guess?) nickname, and throw t-shirts into the audience, after which the radio station DJs came out to invite us all to “get our worship on!”. It was at this point I realized that maybe this wasn’t quite the concert I thought it was going to be.
I did enjoy the singer-songwriter immensely, and was grateful to have come for her, but seriously contemplated whether or not I was going to stick around for the remainder of the concert. After much hemming, hawing, and standing on the balcony staring down at the merch table with wide eyes, I decided to go back in and stick it out, feeling a little convicted that I was still judging people for being excited about a worship concert.
Excuse me, I misspoke. A worship ENCOUNTER. That’s how the “tour chaplain” introduced it, at least. But I stayed. I asked God to soften my heart, allow me to be less cynical, less judgmental. And there were absolutely moments of true worship during the course of the concert – er, worship encounter – for me. A few of the songs they performed – not many, but a few – are some of the songs I still keep in my own worship playlist, and it was awesome to hear them live and sing them with a crowd of people. I wanted to find more to love about it than that. I tried. I really did.
Instead… I felt harassed by the “worship leader” (lead singer) who insisted at various times that we wave our arms, jump up and down, get up and dance, feel the joy of the Lord, etc. I am all for people doing that if they are feeling that they want to worship that way, but having worked 70 hours and having had a cold coming on, I was mostly content to stand quietly and sing or even sit and contemplate. The woman next to me was very enthusiastic and would occasionally whack me in the arm or wave her hand in my face if I was sitting while everyone else was standing. I was also disturbed by the “worshippers” who tended to alternate between filming an entire song on their iPhone and maniacally gesturing to the sky while singing loudly to the next song. Well, at least I thought they were singing loudly – I honestly couldn’t even hear my own voice most of the time, let alone anyone else’s, which made me sad – part of the joy of corporate worship for me is hearing voices all around me, good or bad, but all singing the same song of praise. Most of the time, it felt less like worship and more like a really loud rock concert which just happened to display all of the lyrics on a screen at the top of the stage.
In texting with my mom during and after the concert, she suggested that if the Spirit was nudging that something was off, then maybe it really was. My reply was that it was hard sometimes to tell if it was my cynicism and judgment or the Spirit doing the nudging. I think there were people in the audience who were genuinely moved by this experience. 17 years ago, I would have been one of them. And I don’t want to discount that experience for those who had it.
But something kept eating at me, and in a discussion with my home group, I think I finally pinpointed it: while members of the audience may be coming at the experience from a genuine place, I struggle with whether or not those putting on the concert are. The quality of the music seemed to have decayed over the years – the band used to write thought-provoking, decent quality rock songs that were sometimes about Jesus and sometimes about life. The more recent songs they played were all “worship”, which quite frankly seemed to be written using a set of Christian worship words refrigerator magnets… I sang and listened to and read every word of every song and not a single one stood out to me as something new or fresh or original or excellent. All just… adequate, worshippy songs. But I think worship sells. The performance itself also seemed to suffer from multiple personality disorder – was this worship or a concert? Are we singing praises to God or marketing an album? Are these guys rockstars who throw picks and drumsticks into the audience (they did) or men praising God with humility? I am totally cool with rockstars who throw picks and drumsticks into the audience after putting on an amazing show with songs about God – but I have hard time when it’s hard to tell the difference between that and a “worship encounter”. Something about the whole thing just felt like it walked on the wrong side of the consumerism line, and I haven’t been able to shake it.
All of that being said… I can’t possibly know for certain what is in the hearts of those putting on the concert. It is entirely possible that based on the response of various audiences, they genuinely believe that they are putting on a unique worship experience for those in attendance. For me, personally, the catch is this: I have had incredibly moving, bonding-with-other-audience-members, emotional high experiences at completely secular concerts. In my opinion, that is one of the beautiful, bonding things about live music. And in many ways, it is hard for me to distinguish between the emotion of a passionate worship service and the emotion of a particularly awesome secular concert moment. Because of this realization, I no longer trust how I “feel” to reveal to me whether or not God has shown up – God promises us that wherever two or more are gathered, He shows up. How I feel during worship is completely unrelated – God is present when we worship him. Period. And while God certainly asks us to worship Him with our emotions, I am wary of situations where emotions in response to worship are purposefully stirred and manipulated, where we are instructed to feel or think a certain way. I have not become un-emotional in my worship, but I have learned (most days) to allow my emotions to be what they are during worship. I am sometimes moved to joy by worship, but sometimes also to sadness or repentance or thankfulness. Sometimes I worship angry or embittered and hope that God uses the music to soften my heart.
I am grateful for those who handle hearts gently in worship, who see showing up as adequate participation if that’s all I have to offer, who don’t blink an eye at a raised hand or a little dancing in the aisle. I do not begrudge my sisters and brothers who find joy in every moment of worship, but given the overall human condition, I wonder how many of those people truly exist, and how many may feel that they aren’t permitted to bring any other emotion to worship. And I am grateful for a God big enough to handle whatever emotion I bring, and to see the hearts of those worshipping him, even if I can’t. While it’s not for me to judge… I think I will just steer clear of “worship encounters” for the foreseeable future…
Quote for the day:
“If you have learned anything over the past fifteen years, it’s that the world is not made of sterotypes but of people, complex and real. And faith – that changes too. It has to. It is a cardboard kaleidoscope, ever turning and being turned. You look through it into the Light over and over again, and you never see exactly the same thing.” – Addie Zierman, When We Were on Fire [if you resonated with anything at all I said here, go read this book ASAP!]
