Whatever Happened to Congregational Singing?

I noticed it again last Sunday in church. It wasn’t that something bad happened; it’s just that something good didn’t happen. People didn’t sing.

The worship leaders’ skill and preparation were obvious. Every guitar riff was well played, every vocal note well-toned, every PowerPoint slide properly displayed. The band members played with personality and passion, and there was no reason to question their sincerity or motivation.

But hardly anyone in the congregation sang.

We stood. Some of us clapped. A few mouthed the words. A lot of us tried to join in the singing—we really did. Admittedly, some of us in the over-50 crowd struggled to connect with the youthful lyrics about spinning around while our hearts beat hard in our chests; but as long as the words are biblically admissible, we generally won’t complain. There’s also the problem of the melody, which in some cases no one (including the worship leader) seems to know with any precision. And the hard-to-find harmony, which in some current songs proves elusive even for the musically gifted. Thankfully the rhythm usually isn’t a problem because the drummer makes sure we hear it.

It’s only fair to point out that the church of yester-year faced its own problems with music. Some older gospel songs assault us with repetitious words and trite tunes; a few contain questionable doctrine; and others sound to modern ears like tunes you hear at the roller rink or the funeral parlor.

My concern is not about “traditional” versus “contemporary” music. It’s not just about the style or volume, and whether we use hymnbooks or words projected on a screen. It isn’t about the good old days versus the here and now. It’s not about us versus them, old versus young, rock versus classical, cool versus out-of-date. The issue really isn’t musical tastes and preferences.

No, it’s about participation versus non-participation, engagement versus disengagement, excellence versus mediocrity. It’s about body life and mutual respect for our brothers and sisters. I believe something in the human heart longs to experience “corporate worship” in the best sense of the phrase: when members of the body (“corpus”) of Christ voice our collective praise to the Lord. Something precious is lost when members of the congregation act as if we’re all in our own private music studios instead of joining together in a common expression of faith.

So here’s what I ask of worship leaders: Lead us in worship. Not only in music—in worship. Your job isn’t merely to play the music well, but to lead the gathered congregation into the presence of God. Help us to shake off worldly distractions and focus on God in all his glory. Take us from this sin-soiled earth to the King of kings’ spotless throne-room, to the grace-filled cross of Christ, to the precious feet of Jesus. Remind us that God is good and his love endures forever. Choose songs everyone can sing together, not the ones written mainly for soloists.

Personally I don’t care whether a song was written in 1510 or 2010 as long as its words are biblical and its tune is sing-able. If it pulls my stubborn heart closer to the Lord, I don’t care if the song was written by Martin Luther or by the hippest kid in the church youth group.

I think a lot of us in the church feel the same way. We’re quite willing to participate in worship music that isn’t our favorite style, which relates to another generation more than to our own. But we don’t want to just stand there.

We want to sing.