On “Traditional” Worship (1 of 2)  

Ben ShuteFebruary 29, 2012 

Church music today is witnessing the interesting phenomenon of two classes of musical language existing for the most part quite separately (at least in principle) albeit side-by-side within countless individual congregations: I am referring to the practice of churches that offer both “traditional” and “contemporary” worship services. Doubtless there is much to be said on the subject, but what I would like to consider here is the tendency of the conservative institution, the “traditional service,” to seek to define itself (quite unconsciously, I think) by contrast with the contemporary.

The immediate irony of this or any such reactionary stance, of course, is that it is necessarily self-defeating. It defines itself by contrast with an “other” in order to assert its own identity and declare independence from that “other.” Yet what actually happens is the opposite: its independent identity instead becomes lost in subordination to that of the “other.” Rather than having X and Y, we have X and non-X: Y has lost its independent identity to the extent that it defines itself by contrast with X. Thus the reactionary stance inevitably leaves us like Peter sinking in the waves and groping helplessly, having taken his eyes off Christ to survey the storm raging around him.

This sort of reactionary mindset appears likely to account for the fact that, since the rise of “contemporary” worship, much self-consciously “traditional” worship seems to try to be tame and soothing, perhaps even bland, maybe so as not to offend sensibilities bothered by “contemporary music.” I remember one occasion particularly vividly when, visiting a church (a wonderful church, I may add), a familiar chorale-based movement by Bach was being played as an organ prelude: the opening material was played on a disarmingly benign stop, and the grand hymn tune entered shortly after with similarly tame and ingratiating sonorities from the instrument—it was all very nice, but I found myself at that moment aching for something a bit more raw: I almost wanted to say, “Excuse me, would you happen to have a Trompette in that contraption of yours?”

Is it strange to say I was wishing for rawness in a worship service? or that I think a certain rawness can and perhaps should be an element of worship music in general, even “traditional” worship music? It’s just that the world as I know it isn’t really benign, and so I don’t see how any story that could lend hope to such a world could be benign either. After all, as it relates to music, the sounds that evoke the most profound sense of hope in us do so by resonating, with awesome immediacy, with the story of our uttermost need of it; likewise, the most fervent tones of devotion contain the starkest undertones of brokenness; and those resonances that penetrate us to the core with rays of sublime glory stir in us the flutter of a life of such actuality that it feels as though the meager fibers of the mortal world could never contain it. When, in the fullness of time, the unapproachable light approaches and its burning, life-giving rays undo us even while transforming us beyond the capacity of our imaginations, will we sing of that event through the expanse of eternity in benign, varnished tones? Or will there be a wild beauty to the song, reflecting that of the Lion who threw safety to the wind, unthinkably becoming the sacrificial Lamb on our behalf, and who, with the fearful cry of a finished work, tore the stronghold of sin and death to its foundation in order to raise up a redeemed and rejoicing new creation as the object of His almost fearfully extravagant covenant love? When that Day comes, I wonder whether we, like the disciples in the presence of the resurrected Jesus, will wonder in awe after all this time, “Who are you?” (cf. John 21:12). And if we had the slightest inkling of how far the wonder of His glory surpasses our comfortable imaginings, I doubt very much whether we would be much inclined toward the benign and insipid tones that are far too representative of at least my own lukewarm heart.

(And by the way, if we want to talk about traditionalism per se—have a listen to this reconstruction of a simple hymn from early-Lutheran Germany [1] and decide for yourself whether blandness is in fact “traditional”). 

[1] Martin Luther (text and melody), “Vom Himmel Hoch,” setting by Michael Praetorius (1571-1621).

You can read more from Ben at thedeepdownthings. 

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Religion in an On-Line Culture  

Jeremy M. MullenFebruary 28, 2012 

Recently, Hemant Mehta, “The Friendly Atheist,” posted on his blog about how “The Internet Will Lead to Religion’s Downfall.” In it he notes that the internet provides resources for many questions people have. In fact, the argument begins with an observation about magic shops closing due to easily accessible explanations of various magic tricks on-line. By analogy, he claims that religion will go the same way. He points out that many things (advice, inspiration, knowledge) that people used to seek out from ministers can easily be found on-line. Near the end he summarizes:

If you’re religious, then you might want to turn to a pastor during difficult times, but there are secular counselors who provide the same services. Just like Humanist celebrants are available to officiate weddings, I’m having a tough time finding a service Christian pastors (or any religious leaders) offer that can’t be found elsewhere these days.

This brings three points to mind. First, Mehta is right about the shift away from respect for the church and its ministers. Certainly many pastors bemoan the loss of the privileged position they once enjoyed – especially in places like my own town, Boston. This loss leads many ministers and many churches to try to insert themselves into various issues in their cities, towns, and states (and even into national issues when possible). Though the style and opinions voiced may differ, the trend toward intrusion into public life takes places across the spectrum of progressive to fundamentalist church.

Second, Mehta seems to forget that religion – and much of our lives – is communal. There is the obvious point that people actually gain something from community and from the advice of those they trust in a world awash with opinion and data. Most of our choices are not governed by quantifiable factors. (And some of us have the gall to question whether many ethical issues will ever gain much clarity from scientific research!) Additionally, even sorting through factual claims is less than straightforward on the web. Determining which authorities to trust is inherently an act of community.

Third and most significantly, it is curious that Mehta can think of nothing that religion offers. I won’t speak for other religions, but I can say that he’s making a very Christian point! The church and her ministers are not specialists on any particular body of information, have no corner on the market of inspiring stories or rhetoric, and claim no special insight for most forms of advice. Except … there is one thing they do have uniquely: Jesus. Or, more accurately, Jesus has them uniquely. It’s not that they’re special, but that they proclaim something special in Jesus’ identity and accomplishments. The church (and its ministers) ought to leave behind the pretensions of knowing better than everyone else about many things, and prioritize the good news of Jesus. And yet, just as surely as Mehta misses this point because he does not think he needs it, those who understand their need can’t miss how completely this single bit of good news reorients everything else in their lives.

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There and Bach Again (CGC Articles)  

Justin RuddyFebruary 21, 2012 

One portion of our site that we hope to develop as CGC continues to grow is the Articles section. It's there that we're able to provide you with more in-depth reflections on issues of theology, culture, worship, etc. One of our featured article contributors is Ben Shute. 

Right now, he is in the middle of an article series entitled "There And Bach Again: A Musician’s Meanderings." For classical musicians seeking a profound perspective on how faith intersects with music in both practice and history, Ben is emerging as one of the leading voices. Enjoy Part 1 and Part 2 of this series now; more to come in the future. 

If you've written a piece that you'd like us to consider for an article or blog post, submissions are welcome. Please provide a copy to justin@centerforgospelculture.org for review. 

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Forever - Paul David Tripp (Book Review)  

Andrew KerhoulasFebruary 15, 2012 

I began reading Paul David Tripp’s newest book shortly after I had finished How People Change, which he co-wrote with Timothy Lane. Essentially, Forever: Living with Eternity in View is an extended treatment of one of the most helpful moments in How People Change, where the authors spoke about the role of eternity in biblical change. There they suggested that, rightly understood, eternity should affect our present lives, and not merely our life after death. Tripp’s newest title stirred my temporal-driven heart by causing me to consider our imminent destination in Christ: eternity. The thesis is simple but gripping: “What if you can’t make sense out of life without eternity?” (10). Of course his nuance shifts greatly throughout, but this biblical principle remains a burning focus, an almost redundant monotony on every page. But it is precisely this repeated emphasis that I was most challenged by and grateful for. I will save most of my reflections until we survey the main thrust of Forever.

Tripp argues that inside all of us is a “cry for forever”. The evidence for this is all around us: Every problem, shortcoming, or instance that happens to us or in us is a cry for forever. In other words, eternity is “hardwired inside all of us” (15). But his overarching concern is that the world and the Church are full of people ignoring this reality. This he calls living with “eternity amnesia” (16). Our eternity amnesia problem has long been inculcated into the ideology of higher education, government, popular media, and a culture driven by consumerism. But this cultural problem begins in individuals. This is not something we may pin on those around us, this is my problem, and more than likely it is yours. Our problem, although it is simplistic, has complicated life to an overwhelming extent. Tripp shows that forgetting about forever rears its head in things like “living with unrealistic expectations,” “focusing too much on self,” “asking too much of people,” “being controlling or fearful,” and “living as if life doesn’t have consequences.” He makes it loud and clear that we are actually designed for forever. He is contemporizing C.S. Lewis’ famous words, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” (25).

When we live as if this life is all there is, we compound both our individual and cultural eternity amnesia. The result is that eternity is neglected when we approach our faith, work, education, relationships, possessions, etc. The result of approaching life as if this is all we have, that this is all there is, is the idolization of things and opportunities. A helpful example of eternity amnesia Tripp uses is a hypothetical husband and father named Jack:

“Imagine if Jack understood that the deepest, most satisfying joys are not to be found in the possessions and experiences of this brief here-and-now moment…Imagine if he remembered every day that the God who was moving him toward eternity would give him everything he needed along the way. Then Jack wouldn’t need to work as much, he wouldn’t need to worry as much, and he could spend more time doing the most important work assigned this side of forever: lovingly serving his wife and joyfully parenting his children” (30). 

His point is that we need a “preparation mentality” not a “destination mentality” in this life (31). By making decisions as a practical eternity amnesiac, “we try to get from this world what we can only experience in the next. We try to pack into our present life all the pleasure, happiness, and excitement we can…” Then he stresses what our natural “destination mentality fails to understand: our complete, present, personal happiness is not what God is working on in the here and now. Why? Because the plan of his grace is to deliver us out of this world to one that is much, much better. Whether we live with eternity in view or not, there is one thing we all need to understand: God always responds with eternity in view” (31).

Tripp does much more to develop the biblical view of eternity, and helps us to avoid an escapist mentality. He’s already stressed that through situating our temporal lives in the eternal plan of God we live better lives now. In chapter eleven he situates eschatology fully in the context of redemption. For Tripp, Redemption in Christ is not merely the key to unlock the door of eternity with God. Ultimately, redemption is the destination. The gospel story never ends. To paraphrase the author, when we awake from eternity amnesia, no longer is the gospel simply a catalog of principles, proclamations, and commands. It becomes a cover-to-cover story, a story with a beginning and an end that never ends. The plot of God’s big story defined the plot of our little stories. The biblical story becomes my story (176).

In many ways this book is simply refreshing. As someone raised in the church, I know the four-fold plotline of redemption like the back of my hand. From a young age you might have learned it too: Creation, Fall, Redemption, Restoration. But by stressing the role of the final step as Tripp does in Forever, I think we can gain a better understanding of the first three. Eschatology is not reserved merely for the professional theologians among us. Instead the “not yet” of our gospel hope is meant to shape and undergird our perception of what has “already” happened in Christ just as much as the reverse is true. This is why the Holy Spirit aids us in fixing our eyes on what is unseen and eternal, fighting our natural tendency to live for temporal pleasure (2 Cor 4:18).

Eternity also spurs us to an urgency to love the unbelievers around us. We must not truncate gospel-reality by only clinging to the beautiful side of our hope in Christ –
the renewal of all things (Isa 60; Rev 21). A robust gospel view must also take seriously the other side of eternity, what Tripp calls the “dark side.” Hell is a real place (Matt 13:42). And far worse than fire and brimstone, it is eternal separation from our Maker and Redeemer. In contrast, the New Heavens and New Earth will be an eternal celebration where we are freed to perfectly glorify God.

We walk away from Forever recognizing that the greatest problem with our latent eternity amnesia is our selfishness. As we have seen, loving our neighbors and having an urgency to share the gospel in word and deed happens best in the plotline of God’s story and not our own. Tripp’s Forever is a welcome douse of water to stir us from eternity amnesia, and to more fully shine for Christ in this world (Eph 5:14).

For a chance to win a copy of Paul Tripp's new Forever conference DVD set, Follow and RT us @tcfgc by 10:00am, 2/16/12. 

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TGC New England Regional Conference (10/19-20/12)  

Justin RuddyFebruary 08, 2012 

 

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God’s Glory and Our Crowning Achievements  

Justin RuddyFebruary 07, 2012 

A convicting takeaway from John Starke's recent interview with G.K. Beale where they discussed the closing words of Beale's recently released magnum opus:  

JS: You end your 1,047-page book with, "The upshot of this book is ultimately this: To God be the glory." For young scholars or pastors who are digging deep into the inter-canonical themes running through the Bible and trying to keep up with the latest scholarship on any given issue, how would you counsel them to maintain this God-glorifying posture?

GKB: To maintain the posture of “To God be the glory” is to ask ourselves at every point (in preparing sermons, Bible studies, lectures, articles or books, etc.) why am I doing what I am doing? Am I doing the present task to bring attention to myself and to honor myself or to bring attention to God, Christ, the gospel, and to honor the Trinity? Am I doing what I am doing to make a reputation for myself or for God? These are very convicting questions for all of us. The entire process of sanctification is ridding ourselves of our idols, especially of worshiping ourselves. If we are authentic Christians, we will progress in doing this, perhaps slowly but nevertheless surely. Only at the end of our journey will the idol of self be completely destroyed, and we will all be caught up in the glory of Christ.

Beale's comments certainly extend beyond the pastoral and scholarly vocations. Answering the question "Why am I doing what I am doing?" will go a long way toward starting the conversation in each of our lives about the relationship and interplay between one's faith and work. 

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