One of the callings we as your ministers and music leaders have is pursuing “thinness.” Though we should not count on dramatic felt experiences at every worship service, we pray and work toward imitating the gospel every time we lead in worship. The gospel is that Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us in order to reconcile us to the Father through his life, death and resurrection. As Jesus tore down the barrier between a holy God and sinful people, so we imitate that gospel triumph by bringing earth to heaven and people to God by preaching the word and leading in song. Our work then imitates Jesus’ incarnation, which not only bridged heaven and earth but required dying to himself—his tastes, his preferences, his glory, and even his physical preservation.
I want to focus specifically on how music in corporate worship has the propensity to create “thinness.” As we have refrained from singing over the past several months, our musicians’ gifts have been highlighted, as we sing vicariously through them in a sense. They lead us to thin places by committing to at least three things.
First, our musicians engage our minds simply and accurately. Martin Luther famously said: “next to the Word of God, music deserves the highest praise.”[2] Like Calvin, Luther acknowledges the appropriateness of enjoying music as a gift in itself, however, music in worship is intended to direct us to worship God with our mind and heart. Therefore, both words and music must be understandable by all those present. Our musicians select, arrange, and play music that stirs our hearts because it connects with our lives.[3]
Second, our musicians efface self to honor Christ. That is, the music leader’s purpose is to be a forgotten channel toward honoring Christ. In The Century (February, March, and April 1884), Rev. Charles S. Robinson, author of “Nearer, My God, To Thee,” wrote a series of three long letters on music. He was not complaining about “contemporary” music or “lower musical standards.” He was protesting “misplaced virtuosity” by organists and singers. He reminds us that just as Protestants came close to banishing the organ in the 1800s, the Council of Trent almost decreed only the simplest Gregorian chants could be sung in the house of God. Both were reactions to artists who were indulgently commandeering worship services to draw attention to themselves:
The choir, the organ, the tune-book, and the blower are for the sake of helping God’s people worship Him. . . .public assemblies of Christians are [not] for the sake of an artistic regalement of listeners, the personal exhibition of musicians, or the advertisement of professional soloists who are competing for a salary.[4]
By their eagerness to engage in a variety of styles, our musicians show that they do their best to hide themselves behind Christ, using their calling of playing, and singing to exalt Christ and lead us to encounter him through song as well.
Third, our musicians engage us. The purpose of music and musicians is to serve the congregation in any way necessary to enable their personal participation in worship. Robinson says we are not supposed to “worship by proxy.” Over the years, I have kept a journal of my own experiences of “thin places.” One such entry describes a Good Friday service in 2007. Apparently, I was not alone in my experience. That same evening, I received this note from one of our young high schoolers:
That Good Friday service was not very different from what we usually did either. In fact, it was a dreary night with driving rain. People arrived soaked through and frustrated. A few of us preached brief meditations from various Scriptures, the congregation sang hymns, and an ensemble performed a spiritual. But we all knew that something special happened that night. The veil between heaven and earth was especially thin. The presence of God was palpable. No one remembered a particular preacher or musician—they forgot the channels and saw only Jesus. That is what we are after in worship.
Let us engage in corporate worship each week expectant to meet with Jesus!