Please Rise for Our First Hymn, “Big House” by Audio Adrenaline

Or, why mainline churches really shouldn’t try to do contemporary commercial worship.

I’m always puzzled at the church’s attempts to capture the prevailing trends of the day, create jesusy knock-offs, and hand them out on Sunday mornings. It usually turns into something a bit embarrassing, like this Jesus Culture tune:

That ultra-modern “worship” song sounds like something from the Billboard Hot 100 chart. In 1998.

But then after evangelical churches peddle this stuff, the mainline denominations, self-conscious about their massive decline, copy what the megachurches are doing. Except by the time they get around to it, their attempts are even more derivative and out-of-touch.

During lunch a few weeks ago, I was checking out some worship planning helps online. When I got to this page put out by the United Methodists, I swear I almost had beef stew coming out of my nose. It was shocking. Here’s one of the songs they suggested for the 5th Sunday of Easter:

Audio Adrenaline both wrote this song and made it well known in Christian rock circles in the early 90s. “Big House” speaks of the invitation to join God in the ongoing journey of salvation, but it does so with modern images and a conversational tone. The best format to use in singing this modern worship song is to have a soloist sing the verses, with the soloist and congregation singing the chorus together. The rhythm is very syncopated, so keep in mind other ways to introduce this song–play a recording of this at church meetings and functions to make it known before the congregation encounters it in worship. Accompany with either a solo guitar, full band, or any size ensemble in between. The ideal key is G.

Just for fun, please take a look at the “modern images” and “conversational tone” in this little theological beauty:

If there is enough interest, I will set up a Facebook Live broadcast to teach your worship team the choreography. Anyway…

Not too long ago, mainline contemporary worship unmistakably reflected the musical styles of a distant American nostalgia. In fact, I’ve been to so-called contemporary services in recent years that look like someone just pried the lid off of a late-60s time capsule. They’re usually led by some guys who seem to be reliving their glory days, back when they were had a garage cover band, called something psychedelic and cool like…I don’t know…the “Translucent Umbrellas,” complete with guitar, bass, and Hammond organ. So they stand around in their starched jeans and crew necks, occasionally barefoot, and it’s anything but contemporary. For your first time visitors, it’s a little like showing up for a blind date, and finding a dude your dad’s age in a powder blue leisure suit. It’s just weird, and in a creepy sort of way.

Well, unfortunately, “Big House” is the contemporary Christian music of my childhood. Apparently, it’s making a comeback, and lo and behold, it’s still considered “modern.”

So, all you Gen-Y people, take heart! We will soon be those men and women reliving our glory days of Surge sodas and youth group cover bands. We will wear our light-wash jeans or pleated khakis, woven belts, and shoes we bought from the Journeys store in the mall a decade before our first child was born. The smartest among us will use slightly-elevated, vaguely theological doublespeak to explain how our favorite novelty song with the bitchin’ guitar solo is an “invitation to join God in the ongoing journey of salvation,” except with cultural relevance and everyday language that people can really relate to. We will feel so cool! And relevant, by God! Except we won’t be. The aforementioned firstborn children will hide their faces in embarrassment. And they should.

I understand that there are churches who are getting lots of butts in their seats, and it’s supposedly all because of their contemporary worship. Yes, you may sometimes be able to increase your numbers by going contemporary. If you pour large sums of money down the contemporary worship rat hole, you might be able to increase attendance. If you’re able to hire top-notch musical entertainment, if you’re capable of building the state-of-the-art entertainment venue, and if you’re willing to compromise your liturgical identity by melding the work of your people into the music-speaker-music format, you might be able to bring people in for a time.

But even if it does, what will you be left with? What will be the result of your entertainment events? Disciples, or butts in the seats?

Instead of visioneering a new strategy for each new generation, recover the simple invitation of the Christ himself: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Empower your congregation to sing good melodies that frame the truth of the Christian story with wonder, beauty, and dignity.

Take your regular old sermons, and renew them with the beautiful, rugged, counter-politics of Christ’s gospel.

Rely on your regular old Sacraments sear our new identity onto our whole being.

Let God’s story speak out into our lives and hearts once again, free from gimmicks and hooks.

Wake up a distracted church by recovering the meaning behind your liturgy.

Be honest with your people that you’re not there to entertain them or give them a personalized “worship experience.”

Will you attract unbelievers and unchurched? Maybe. Maybe not.

But you will still be the church. After all, the culture isn’t supposed to be engaged on Sunday mornings. That’s not the point of the worship gathering. That’s when we remind ourselves who we are and what we’re about. Or rather, who God is and what God says we should be about. Then, we are sent out into a world in desperate need of a radical church, not a church infused with entertainment culture.

Because entertainment simply isn’t what our culture needs. It is entertained to death already, and the church’s attempts will always be lame, out of touch, and embarrassing.

You’re not cool, church. You never were.

It’s time you learned to live with that.

Photo:
Flickr, creative commons 2.0