Some notes on modern church music

There are many debates about CCM (defined as a genre of music with a pop or rock sound and lyrics that are related to the Christian faith). The argument for it is that, since today's youngsters adore pop and rock (my hero didn't - another abnormality on his part), the way to get them into church is by incorporating that genre with the substitution of vaguely Christian lyrics, often complete with light effects, smoke machines and suggestive guitarist postures. Although our group eschews the bling and glitter, we do encompass some of their songs and sometimes either the lyrics or accompaniment is whacky enough that I cannot join in. And why does the drum kit have to pound away at my tinnitus ridden ears through the majority of the songs we sing? In the musical forms I am more at home with, as a general rule percussion is used for special effect rather more than monotony.

Stock photo

Ali and I once went to a "modern" Charismatic church with the whole works: light shows, smoke, the works, audience in darkness, musicians prancing around on the stage. A performance rather more than congregational participation. Actually I rather enjoyed it, trying to figure out how they achieved the various effects and immersing myself in the changing colours. But it wasn't what I consider praise or worship. But then I've also attended meetings in a Kenyan village, PA system distorted at full volume, African beat and gyrations - and that wasn't worship either IMHO. Which suggests that the fault here lies with me - for the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.

Prompted by a remark my son made I have been reading Dorothy Sayers' Gaudy Night which is set in the Oxford both she and I loved. She makes an interesting comment on "genuine music" which concurs with my own experience: He was wrapt in the motionless austerity with which all genuine musicians listen to genuine music. Harriet was musician enough to respect this aloofness; she knew well enough that the ecstatic rapture on the face of the man opposite meant only that he was hoping to be thought musical, and that the elderly lady over the way, waving her fingers to the beat, was a musical moron. She knew enough, herself, to read the sounds a little with her brains, laboriously unwinding the twined chains of melody link by link. Peter, she felt sure, could hear the whole intricate pattern, every part separately and simultaneously, each independent and equal, separate but inseparable, moving over and under and through, ravishing heart and mind together. I position myself on this spectrum somewhere between Harriot and Lord Peter - I'd like to say that I was closer to the latter but it would not be true.  But, like a good fruit cake, I know something I like when I hear it.

C. S. Lewis adds that an excellently performed piece of music, as natural operation which reveals in a very high degree the peculiar powers given to man, will thus always glorify God whatever the intention of the performers may be. But that is a kind of glorifying which we share with the ‘dragons and great deeps’, with the ‘frost and snows’. What is looked for in us, as men, is another kind of glorifying, which depends on intention.  Although he didn't think much of them he at least realized that the hymns (which were just sixth-rate music) were, nevertheless, being sung with devotion and benefit by an old saint in elastic-side boots in the opposite pew, and then you realize that you aren’t fit to clean those boots. It gets you out of your solitary conceit. 

So, returning to Christian praise, if such a thing as "genuine music" exists objectively (by which I mean is commonly accepted by the majority in at least most Western cultures and upbringings) then one would expect this very best attempt by mankind to be that employed in praising his maker. And of course musical repertoire down through the ages has, to some degree, demonstrated this. Then why do we have something inferior IMHO in modern churches? As I have already argued, is it because of a conception or misconception about modern youth?

So now I have a mental picture of our meeting room with an orchestra out front playing highly polished "genuine" music with the congregation now a choir, instead of the usual guitarist with piano and drums backup on the side. I am not sure if that was what I had in mind...

Cecil Francis Alexander

I was brought up on hymns and, in children's meetings, CSSM choruses. Many are slushy or nonsense but some are sublime. A high contender in my book is:

There is a green hill far away,

Without a city wall,

Where the dear Lord was crucified,

Who died to save us all...

for its simplicity in lyrics, doctrine and musical setting. Another favourite is:

Elizabeth Celphane

Beneath the cross of Jesus

I fain would take my stand,
the shadow of a mighty rock
within a weary land;

but, although the whole hymn is worthy poetry, for me it is in particular the words "a mighty rock within a weary land" (my emphasis) which conjures up peculiar emotions as does "O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires. (Isa 54:11). The trouble is, in both cases the allusion is destroyed once you change Bible version or look the words up in Strong's concordance.  Therefore these word pictures which I like apparently have little or no actual value. Such is poetry.

Horatio Stafford

And then there is: His wife Anna survived and sent him the now famous telegram, 'Saved alone …'. Shortly afterwards, as Horatio Spafford travelled to meet his grieving wife, he was inspired to write these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died. Although his Christianity was hardly conventional from then on.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul…

These lyrics are packed with human emotion - is this what I am searching for?  When I should be bowing to an all powerful, eternal, changeless creator entity beyond my ken, god yet born in the likeness of men?

Sandy Thompson was an enigma in the church my parents attended. I was young at the time and so wasn't told the back story but I heard things whispered and knew enough to be intrigued: I gleaned that Sandy was something special in that he was an evangelist and constantly on the move, previously had had a ministry in the Holy Land, and only occasionally was seen in our church. Was he estranged from his wife and family who lived next door to the church? Was this because he was away from home so much, or was the tension because of a clash of doctrine?  It saddens me that doctrine can cause such a rift. Over the weekend we watched the fictional but true to life movie 7500 which unfolds the drama of extremist Muslim terrorists trying to seize control of a Berlin-Paris flight - that men could act like this in the name of religion is mind blowing. 

I'm sure the man in this video is the same man as I remember: the picture of him agrees with my memory, he mentions preaching at Andover which is not far from my childhood home, mentions a Brethren background but now seeing things differently, from which I infer differences over the baptism in the Spirit, an experience the Brethren church typically disagrees with, and he quotes a song (at 23 minutes) that I remember he teaching us and which made a deep impression on me back then if only because I knew that it described how any true Christian should be and yet I could not truthfully say it was my own experience.

For me to live is Christ

To die is gain

To hold His hand and walk this narrow way

There is no peace, no joy, no thrill

Like walking in His will

For me to live is Christ

To die is gain

Whatever my or your views on Christianity, there is no doubt that it has been and continues to be the inspiration for a significant and much loved part of the repertoire of "genuine" music. But as to what constitutes "genuine" surely is at least to some degree a matter of personal taste. And my own tastes with its love of evaporated milk, golden syrup and fruit cake are clearly not the norm.

Doritos

One of the difficulties in writing a blog like this that draws rather randomly from my life experiences is trying not to repeat myself unduly. Have I mentioned before my dislike of parties?

From an early age I have disliked parties. There was one occasion I remember in particular - my older sister and I had been invited to one of her friends' birthday party and I did not want to go. I was maybe 6 years old at the time. I made such a fuss that in the end my parents gave up and I stayed at home. One up for me. And from that time on my choice has been to neither attend nor throw parties (not even at my 18th or 21st birthday).

On the other hand my best friend at school and later college threw parties that I could at least endure. I suppose I agreed to go for his sake but, on arriving, I discovered that no-one was forced to do anything, there were decent nibbles and the music was classical not rock. Unlike my childhood memories of being thrown into a noisy throng of largely unfamiliar children, being forced to play silly and embarrassing games with them, and then to eat ridiculous "party food" (thinly spread white sandwiches, little jellies in pleated paper cups, bland sponge cake and the like).

In later life well meaning friends and relations have thrown surprise parties - on one birthday Ali invited a small selection of the kids I was teaching at the time - I enjoyed that because I knew them all and there were only a handful. And, besides, there were Doritos.

And on our silver wedding anniversary the church did a party - too many people this time but at least I knew all of them and there was no loud music so it was OK.

Now-a-days my hearing impediment adds a further abrasion - groups of more than about four people become unmanageable because I cannot tell what folk are saying. If loud music is involved all chance of conversation is lost and as voices are raised the noise level borders on being painful. I take any excuse to get out (e.g. going to the loo, or checking up on the car outside). Not that it matters too much because, generally, in such gatherings the talk is small and that's another reason I hate parties. What, I ask, is the point of spending good time in talking or listening to nonsense?  You will see from this that I am incurably selfish too. But if everyone in the world were entirely selfless and always preferring the other person life would be very dull and nothing worthwhile would get done. "No, you have the chocolate, I couldn't possibly because I like it too much" (and vice versa).

Not that I dislike loud music per se. I dislike music that is constantly loud or, indeed, constantly anything. I also like apple pie but I wouldn't want to always eat apple pie (breakfast, lunch and dinner) - well, not after the first day or two anyway. Music, like any other experience, should embrace extremes of contrast.

Here's someone else who hates parties.