There is a tension to the Kingdom of Heaven that is here but not yet here. That tension ought to give way to poetry. To lament. To art. Sure, there is room for some celebration, but if our faith has nothing else to it than positive messages and encouraging clichés, perhaps it has become a Band-Aid rather than a surgery.
Worship music doesn’t need to be medication. Our worship music ought to put us in touch with the deepest places of our humanity, not simply distract us from our pain and put is in a good mood for the preacher’s talk. It ought to stir things deep in us. Hope. Joy. Anger. Mourning. Doubt. Love.
– Michael Gungor
I used to be addicted to worship services. For sure, they were like rock concerts that I enjoyed nowadays. Not much different in terms of providing the experiential joy of loving God. But for the most part, it had a reality-adverse and narcissistic posture to it. I had no room for any expression for grief and lament that I might be experiencing in my life. There simply was no space in the worship music being played in church for that.
Gungor is right. We are living in lamentless faith from the way we worship in church and those energized youth meetings. The expression is superficial and served just as a band-aid on our wounds. There has to be room and space to allow us to acknowledge the groanings of our hearts and the pains of going through the brokenness of our lives.
Which is why our worship has to be risky. To reach out in faith for what is truly real and authentic. Not some pitiful clappy version to make us feel good about ourselves on Sundays. As we give voice to grief, perhaps hope can arise.