the songs we sing

NOTE: I am going to make some pretty strong statements below, but understand that it is my way of taking an honest, hard look at my own worship experience and practice. My desire is not to be overly critical, but to open up dialogue by questioning things I have assumed were totally fine and appropriate. In other words, I am preaching to myself. Feel free to listen in.

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When I am in a church meeting during the singing time, I sometimes find myself silent, unable to get the words past my lips. At times I just need a moment of stillness, time to listen, but other times, the words make me pause because I don't know that I can sing them honestly or with integrity. This is a good thing. We should never mindlessly or heartlessly sing songs just because everyone else is. We should care deeply about what we say in our sung, communal worship.

At their best, songs sung by the gathered body of Christ call to life what is already in us: the hope, the truth, the longing, the lament, the pain, the confession, the repentance, the love, the surrender, the praise, the joy, the thanksgiving, the doubt, the faith, and the mystery of being joined together with Christ and with each other by the Spirit of God. In short, our songs should tell the gospel story. In the Western evangelical church, I have noticed that some of the more popular songs focus on how God makes all things work out for our good and how God is great and gives us the victory. To be honest, these are the songs that make me most uncomfortable because I get the sense that we lack some discernment in knowing which songs are appropriate for our times and our situations.

The writer of Ecclesiastes says there is a time and season for everything, and so it is with songs. Not all songs are fitting for all contexts. Let me give you an example. A song of victory sung by a bully who steals another person's prize possession is an entirely different thing than a song of victory sung by someone who thought they had no chance of survival but somehow, miraculously, find themselves still standing. Case in point: King David stole another man's wife and then had that man killed. He used his power and authority to advantage himself and disadvantage one of his loyal subjects. Was that the time to sing a song of how God had blessed him? How he was the victor, the one enjoying the spoils of battle, how nothing could stand in his way because he was the anointed one? No. Nathan the prophet rebuked the king for his greed, and then David sang a song begging for mercy, a song requesting cleansing, a song of humble repentance (Psalm 51). That was an appropriate song.

One of the most graphic (and brutal) victory songs we find in the scriptures was sung by Moses and the Israelites after they were delivered from the cruel tyranny of slavery under the Egyptian Pharoah (Exodus 15). Not only did the people inexplicably walk away from hundreds of years of slavery, but as they were leaving, they were pursued by an army of horses and chariots intent on recapturing and/or destroying them. After God rescued them from this harrowing ordeal, the newly freed slaves, people who could not believe that they were free, much less alive, sang a song of victory. The words, "The Lord is my strength and my might," were not sung by people who needed a boost in confidence on a bad day or were claiming victory before a competition; the words were sung by people who had been on the verge of death, whose world had, until recently, been shaped by constant abuse and brutality, and who, by the mercy of God, now had a chance at a new life.

If I may put it bluntly, an overcoming song is appropriate and beautiful on the lips of slaves who have been set free and the oppressed who have been lifted up, but inappropriate and distasteful on the lips of colonizers, slave-owners, and oppressors who take what is not theirs.

I know all of us, no matter what our context, have many challenges in life to overcome, and I do not mean to diminish the very real and difficult situations where we feel helpless and cry out to God to rescue us. However, I believe we should be very cautious about using the language of war, violence, and overcoming enemies through power and might in our songs and prayers. For those who have lived through the brutality of violent conflict, the use of war imagery by someone who has never had their life threatened or felt the boot of an oppressor on their neck comes off as flippant and even ignorant. Might I be so bold as to suggest that instead of being appropriate, it is appropriation.

Now I know that there is war imagery scattered throughout the scriptures, especially in the Hebrew Bible and in the book of Revelation. My point is that these stories and songs and prophecies were written by and to people whose context was, very often, violent conflict and persecution. Their lives were on the line daily. For most of us, that is not the case, so when we use metaphors and imagery of warring and victory, we do so without knowing firsthand the suffering and pain and sacrifice involved in violence and war. For us, it is a cheap metaphor. When we use victory language which places us in positions of power, authority, abundance, and preference without taking into account the suffering and death of Jesus, without remembering the plight of those who daily suffer injustice in the world around us, we have lost our way.

I cannot speak for anyone else, but my greatest enemy is not some other nation or political group or terrorist organization. My greatest enemy is my own unwillingness to lay down my life for my sister, my brother, my neighbour, my enemy. My greatest battle is not for survival or freedom from slavery but to be free of consumerism, nationalism, and complacency. Most often, the songs I need to sing are not victory songs but songs which confess that I am self-satisfied and think I have need of nothing. The songs I need to sing are not those which declare increased abundance but those which remind me that Jesus has a preference for the poor and asks me to join him in being generous. The songs I need to sing are not about gaining more might and strength but about learning how to love and sacrifice. These are the songs which seem most appropriate to my context.

I am reminded of the story Jesus told about two men praying in the temple (Luke 18). It is so easy for us to adopt the posture of the religious leader, confident and self-righteousness, looking down on those whose sins are more obvious than ours. It is much more difficult for us to lower our eyes, beat our chests in sorrow and humility, and cry out for God's mercy.

For me, one of the most honest, appropriate prayers we can utter (and sing) is the Jesus Prayer from the Eastern Orthodox tradition: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.



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