We hear that some among you are not busy; they are busybodies. Such people we command in the Lord Jesus Christ to settle down and earn the bread they eat. -2 Thessalonians 3:1-12
While this verse may be dealing with the importance of working for a living, it speaks to me on another level as well. The temptation to be a busybody- to gossip, criticize, and take other’s hard work for granted- is ever present, and can sometimes be subtle. Being a musician, it’s easy for me to slip into critic mode: “Ugh, that song’s so annoying,” “So and so is so out of tune,” “I would have done such and such this way, not that way- yikes.” But when I start down that road, what am I really accomplishing? At best, I’m keeping it to myself and being privately ungrateful for the work of others. At worst, I’m spreading my bad attitude in the Church and actually working against what others are trying to do.
This does not mean that we shouldn’t be striving for excellence, or that Church-workers are exempt from criticism. It does mean that I need to first ask myself “What am I doing about it?” A constructive attitude begins with a willingness to step in and actually contribute something, rather than sitting on the sidelines telling the folks on the field that what they’re doing is wrong.
So, when my thoughts start to turn critical, I need to step back and ask myself: Am I willing to get busy, or am I just being a busybody?
Instrumentation can be a tricky thing when writing worship music. As a songwriter, it’s easy to let a song be driven by an instrumental hook. As a composer, it’s fun to layer instrumental parts. As a music director, you are limited by the instrumentalists on your team, and by their skill levels. I try to ask myself a few questions as I’m writing: Is this song relying on its accompaniment to be effective? Would it work with only guitar, only piano, or even a cappella? Are the instruments supporting the melody, driving it, or overpowering it? In short- is the instrumentation a crutch for a weak melody?
It’s important to me that my songs are useful regardless of the instruments a music director has available. None of my arrangements are meant to be set in stone, but starting points for a director to adapt to their needs, adding, changing, or minimizing. My goal (not always reached, but always reached for) is that the text and melody will hold up and shine in any arrangement.
There are many hymns and modern worship songs with texts that I love. However, my favorite single verse from any song comes from the original text of the hymn “Crown Him With Many Crowns.” This is a hymn that has been changed continually since it was first written in 1851 by Matthew Bridges. The versions in common use today are a mishmash of verses by Bridges and by Godfrey Thring, who did not approve of Bridges original text, and so replaced some of Bridges verses with ones of his own for a hymnal released in 1874.
Unfortunately, in modern use my favorite verse of this hymn is often omitted or altered significantly, depending on the hymnal. Regardless, some hymnals still have it in its original (or near-original) form, and I’m glad I didn’t miss out.
The verse (stanza 3 in Bridge’s original) is:
Crown him the Lord of love,
Behold his hands and side,
Rich wounds, yet visible above
In beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky
Can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye
At mysteries so bright.
I can remember the first time I sang this and “got it.” I was probably in 7th or 8th grade, and I’m sure it was not my first time singing the verse. This time, though, I was really thinking about what I was singing, and as we sang these words, a new dimension of understanding opened up for me. ”Rich wounds?” Oh… deep, serious, weighty, full, a large quantity. Wounds that look, well, disgusting from a human perspective. But “above,” from a heavenly view, Christ’s wounds are a bright, shining badge of honor- so amazing and mysterious that the angels cannot even stand to look directly at them.
The words gave me a glimpse of Heaven, where suffering is turned on its head. I still love the image of the heavenly court in overwhelmed awe at the sight of Christ’s pierced hands, feet, and side. It is beautiful poetry, something that has deepened my understanding of God, and something I still carry with me.
If anyone else has a similar love for a particular verse from a hymn (ancient or modern), please share it!
One difficult adjustment for songwriters writing worship music is changing their approach to syllable consistency. When you’re writing solo performance music, there is a great freedom to add variety between verses. Say the first line of your first verse is “Jesus loves me, this I know,” and you add a second verse that begins with “Jesus died for me, this I know.” In a solo performance, you can mold the melody to accommodate the extra syllable (“died for” instead of “loves”).
The problem arises when this solo performance approach to songwriting is used to write congregational music. To make a song easy to learn, it helps to keep the syllabic content of each verse consistent. Otherwise, as the congregation is trying to grasp the way your melody fits with the text, you are changing it on them and making it much more difficult to learn. Dropping or adding syllables to lines in different verses may seem natural when you’re writing from a solo perspective, but for a congregation, it is frustrating and makes the song much harder to grasp and retain. In addition, a consistent meter is equally important- the pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables. ”Underwater,” which has a stress on the third syllable, should not be replaced in a following verse by “sanctuary,” which stresses the first syllable.
There is a very popular song that has been used fairly regularly at the last three churches I’ve been involved with. Despite the fact that the song was done often, the same problem seemed to happen every time, at each church. While most of the song was sung by the congregation with enthusiasm, the first lines of each verse became a dull roar of confusion. The problem? The first line of verse 1 uses 5 syllables, the beginning of verse 2 also has 5 syllables, but a completely different meter, verse 3 starts with 9 syllables (!), and yet another completely different meter. This problem takes away from an otherwise well-liked song.
This can be hard to catch, though, when you’re used to writing songs for yourself to perform (as I am). It’s not the end of the world, either, if there are inconsistencies within a song. But if a congregation is going to learn a song quickly, and be able to remember how to sing it the next time, consistency is an important ally.
As a companion to the Word Like Fire podcast, I’m planning to use this blog to discuss various topics related to music in the Church, and hopefully spark some constructive discussions. I’ll also speak to specific issues that I’m keeping in mind as I write my own music.
Something worth talking about was brought up by Kevin (of the Sung Prayers Podcast) in an earlier comment- the prominent focus on the individual in modern worship music.
A while back, my wife and I were visiting a church. The lights dimmed, the music swelled, and words appeared on the projection screen:
“I got up really early this morning
Most days I’d rather be snoring
But I came, and I hope you’ll
Remember my busy schedule
And realize how lucky you are
That to praise you, I drove so far.
Oh God, I’m waiting for you to get here
I’m worth your time, and I kept my morning clear
So hurry up and talk to me or something
Before I decide I showed up for nothing.”
OK, I might be exaggerating a bit, but the overall message of the song was not so different. About halfway through, my wife and I were staring at each other in wide-eyed horror. It was an extreme example of something that had troubled me for a long time in a subtler way- a growing emphasis on “me” and what I’m doing instead of God and what He’s done. Along with this trend came the increasing tendency to reduce the enormous power and love of God to the level of a cozy, self-centered human relationship, what I’ve heard referred to as “Jesus is my girlfriend” songs (swap out the name Jesus and you’ve got a top-40 pop hit).
A part of this movement was probably a reaction to the perceived coldness of “mainstream” churches, and the lack of emphasis on a personal relationship with Jesus. In fact, our God is a personal God, and it is important to reflect on what He has done in our lives, and on our personal relationship with Him. The problem arises when we embrace a faith, and a body of music, that is exclusively introspective. God becomes no more that what I can experience personally, and my emotions become the absolute indicator of God’s presence.
Singing in the first person (“I”) about how Christ has changed our lives is a good thing, but it is important to keep a balance. We need to also approach the awesome nature of God in a way outside of and detached from our limited human understanding- praising him without the need to refer to ourselves at all. We need to remember the Trinity, the multiple dimensions of who God is, that he is perfection, pure and complete, and needs nothing from us. And just as God exists in community, so do we as members of the Body of Christ. It is important to cry out to God as a community, “we,” remembering that we are a body and our praise does not exist in a vacuum. All of these methods of address (personal, congregational, and God-only) are found throughout the Psalms, and need a place in our musical expression.
This is an issue I’m paying close attention to as I write my own songs, but it is also a struggle. I come with the attitude of the singer-songwriter, and writing from a place of personal emotional experience is the easiest and most natural for me. In my more personal songs, I’m trying to still keep the focus on God more than myself, and on His power and my powerlessness. I went through a phase years ago where I would actually count the number of “I”s and “me”s in a song and compare it to the number of references to God, or “You”s. This can be an interesting exercise, but I don’t think it really reveals as much as I thought it did at the time. The real line isn’t between references to myself vs. God, but between what I’m doing and what God’s doing. Am I singing more about what I’m doing for God or what he’s doing for me? Is the true object of the song God or myself? Am I addressing God as Savior, Creator, and Sustainer or as a fuzzy feeling I get when the lights go down and the music’s loud?
This trend may be shifting for the better. Current worship chart-toppers like “Mighty to Save” and “How Great is Our God” have a much stronger God-focus than has been the norm, and I pray that this continues, expanding our tools and attitudes in our times of worship.
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