by Ryan Smith | Aug 8, 2016
The Bible is full of music. From the angelic chorus of heaven, to the victorious Psalms of Ascent, to the quiet song of Mary upon receiving news of the embryonic Messiah, God has chosen music as an instrument not only of doxology, but also theology.
There is no greater service of music than in conveying truth. When paired with biblical truths and phrases that grasp both the heart and the mind, a believer has a symphonic avenue to commune with God and the church in a way only God could orchestrate.
As one who loves this marriage of music and truth, I listen to a lot of worship music – songs intended to be used with and by the church for the glory of God and the edification of His people. Songs in the church are utilized to not only inspire, but to inform, to teach, to not only capture the heart, but also help in the renewing of the mind.
However, I am continually brought to the repeating rhythm of a trend in worship music that gives me caution.
My aim in this article is not to call out certain artists or shame any who may regularly sing these songs on Sunday morning. They can be beautiful and helpful in certain contexts. My aim is to get us to consider the songs we sing and ask whether or not they are undergirded by the power and words of Scripture.
That being said, I think it would be good to talk about the Holy Spirit and his inclusion in recent worship music.
Theologically, we know the Holy Spirit is God. He is part of the triune Godhead – equal with the Father and Son, yet with distinct roles. We often sing about the Father’s attributes of mercy, sovereignty and justice, and ascribe glory to Jesus the Son for the cross and the revelation of the fullness of God.
We are pretty orthodox in the way we sing about the Father and the Son.
But if an unbeliever were to develop a theology of the Holy Spirit based on what we sing in our churches, what would they conclude?
The following phrases tend to be repeated in songs about the Holy Spirit:
Holy Spirit come
Fall afresh on me
Fill the atmosphere
I want to feel your presence
Flood this place
Rush in like a flood
Pour your spirit out
What are these songs teaching the church as well as onlookers about the Spirit of God? If I were to write down a thesis statements about the Holy Spirit based on what is mostly highlighted in songs about him, it would be this:
The Holy Spirit, once invited to come to a particular place or people, is a sudden and overwhelming presence whose coming correlates mostly with a feeling of joy, power, or atmospheric alteration.
One of the issues with continually inviting the Holy Spirit to come or be poured out is that we miss the miracle of Pentecost and the joy of knowing the Spirit has come and is omnipresent with the believer. We need not invite him any more than we need to invite Jesus to die on the cross for our sins. It is finished. Glory to God!
A biblical understanding of the Holy Spirit leads us to see Him and His activity in a different and even more awe-inspiring light.
Jesus spoke of the Spirit as a holy guide, helper, and empowerer in the Gospel. He is sent by the Son to continually bear witness to Jesus as the Christ (John 15:26). He intercedes for us in prayer because of our weakness (Rom. 8:26). He is our seal of adoption in Christ (2 Cor. 1:22). He guides believers to walk in truth on the path of righteousness (John 16:13).
The Holy Spirit is the instrument of sanctification – the process of daily dying to self and being conformed to Christlikeness. But I get it – sanctification isn’t sexy. It doesn’t easily translate into a sweeping chorus. Sanctification isn’t emotional or spontaneous. It certainly can be, praise God, but usually it looks like the daily battle to read and apply the Scriptures.
The work of the Spirit is usually the blue-collar work of shepherding a wandering people on the way that is right – the way of truth. It is standing on our side as we battle between sin and righteousness. It is urging us towards the way of the cross and reminding us of Jesus. The Spirit is a guide to the stumbling blind on the path of righteousness – not merely a force to fill a place.
As I revisit the themes of many of our didactic songs about the Spirit, I fear few of them paint the picture of this type of God. Many seem to call for a re-visitation of Pentecost rather than asking for strength to do the dirty work of self-denial and God-glorification.
Church, let us sing songs about the Spirit. Let us write songs about the Spirit and His work. We need more. But we also need to remember God’s Spirit uses God’s Word to do God’s work. If we want the power of the Spirit in our songs, we need the content of the Word in our worship. We need songs filled with Biblical truth to truly know and celebrate the Spirit in a way that honors him.
In that way, may the Holy Spirit truly and greatly work in power among His church for His glory and our good.
by Ryan Smith | Jul 18, 2016
We love stories. Whether it’s a sweeping epic like Les Miserables or a thirty-minute episode of The Office, we love the unfolding narrative of characters, conflict, and corresponding consequence.
We like stories because, in some way, the best stories tell our story. While we never participated in the French Revolution, and we know Krypton is not a real planet, we can identify with Jean Valjean’s struggle to make a good man grow from dark roots. We recognize the ongoing battle of good versus evil that daily plays itself out on our Twitter feed and news channels though void of red capes and laser eyes.
Even Jesus knew the power of story. He was known for His ability to communicate direct and honest truth through the medium of parables – stories that expressed greater meaning.
That is one reason I believe the Holy Spirit gave us the Bible in its form. In essence, it is a collection of stories that tell one big story. Granted, there are many genres in the Scripture from poetry to apocalyptic literature, but even those tell stories. Song of Solomon is indeed poetry, but in essence is a story of young love. This young love is the story of God and his people, Christ and his church. Even David’s psalms and Paul’s letters cannot be divorced from their relationships and circumstances. They are landmarks of their unfolding stories.
I say all of this to arrive at an interesting concept I read recently. The idea stems from a notion by mythologist Joseph Campbell. His conclusion is that all stories are essentially the same story in different forms. He calls this narrative template “the monomyth.” In his book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Campbell describes this monomyth – the story that is every story: “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons (benefits or blessings) on his fellow man.”
As I read this quote, I was struck by two things. One, I was struck by how true this is. Disney is the master of storytelling. Virtually every Disney movie involves an ordinary character thrust from the world they know into an unfamiliar setting in which they must struggle against a particular foe whom they ultimately conquer. They then return as a hero who has created, or can now create, a better existence for others.
It’s not only Disney that incorporates this model. This strand is woven across time, culture, and worldview. From Homer’s The Odyssey to Rowling’s Harry Potter, this journey is recast, remembered, and retold by every generation.
Campbell, a non-Christian, also believes this extends to religion. He believes all religions are true, but none are literal. They are simply the retelling of the same story.
Consider Mormonism. Joseph Smith, a common man, encounters the supposed angel Moroni, receives the book of Mormon, and despite persecution, relates the teachings and directives of the book to his followers establishing a new religion.
Consider Islam. Muhammad, an ordinary caravan manager goes to a cave and is thrust into a calling as “The Prophet” by the angel Gabriel. He then turns a small group of persecuted followers into a nation of people devoted to the Koran.
In virtually every religious story, we find these similar elements. We even find them in the Bible in the calling of Abraham, the life of Moses, and the conversion of Paul.
However, this leads me to the second thing that struck me about Campbell’s idea. While this story echoes in many different forms – even in our own experiences – it is not true for Jesus.
Jesus is the anomaly.
Christianity is not about a common man who encountered God, but about God who became a common man. Instead of being drawn out of an ordinary world into a world of “supernatural wonder” he left the supernatural wonders of heaven to walk the ordinary dust of earth. His victory is won through his own loss. His call is not to bravery and self-empowerment, but to sacrifice and repentance.
This is why so many had trouble with Jesus during his lifetime and why so many struggle with him today. Jesus’ message is not our story, but its reversal.
So is Christianity telling the wrong story?
The Bible is not telling the wrong story, it is telling a greater story. Many have tried to reduce Christianity to a retelling of this monomyth with people at the center. As if the Bible were a map to personal victory or a means to supernatural experience and blessing.
Yes, the story of the ordinary meeting the extraordinary is seen throughout Scripture and is relatable to us as we walk through life in faith. It is the story of our Pilgrim’s Progress. But these stories are not the ends. Rather they are the means of telling a greater story.
Whereas movies, books, and even other religions tell a relatable story (and therefore ring true with so many people), they fail to reach the greater conclusion. They point to us and our story. Christianity points all of our stories to a bigger story. In this story, victory is about sacrifice. Power is about humility. Ultimately, instead of identifying with the hero, we have to acknowledge we are the villain. We are the aggressor – the antagonist. We are without means of victory. Our sinful hearts are the force that must be encountered and defeated.
This is why Christianity is a hard sell. We like the story where we identify with the victor. We want to see ourselves as the main actor – thrust into the supernatural where we fight for our dreams, overcome our obstacles, and ultimately emerge victorious with a message of hope for others to receive the same benefits we have found.
Some of these elements are biblical. But if that is your full version of Christianity, it is an anemic version.
It is not wrong to seek God’s blessing. It is not wrong to fight sin or believe a walk with God is a supernatural journey. But while these are elements of our story, they are not THE story. They point to a greater reality of who God is, what sin has done, and how God restores this broken world to himself.
The greater story is not that we can get to heaven, but that heaven’s King came to us.
The story is not of our triumph, but of God’s sacrificial victory. Ultimately the story is not about us and our adventures at all. It is about the glory of God in the Gospel.
Let our every story point to His story.
by Ryan Smith | Jun 22, 2016
WAKE UP! WHY ARE YOU ASLEEP? GET UP!
WHY ARE YOU REJECTING US? WHY ARE YOU HIDING?
YOU FORGET US WHEN WE NEED YOU MOST?
WE’VE DONE ALL WE CAN DO – GET UP AND HELP US!
IF YOU REALLY LOVE US, WE NEED TO SEE IT NOW!
These cries sound like the lyrics to an aggressive emo song or something written hastily in the journal of a scorned teenager – tears streaking the ink before it can even dry.
They are explosive, angry, pointed, accusing, and bursting with indignation. But these aren’t the words of a raging teenager or some psychotic ex-lover. They aren’t the words of a spoiled child yelling at his parents to satisfy his entitled heart.
They’re Scripture, and they’re addressed to God.
I’ve been reading through the Psalms recently and have been both alarmed and comforted by the vast spectrum of raw emotion contained within each song. Yes, there are the “Sing to God – his love endures and everything is pretty like flowers” psalms. But just as many, if not more, are the songs I don’t expect.
Destroy my enemies God – murder them. Smash them.
What on earth are you doing God? Is this how you treat your people?
If this is being your chosen people God, thanks for nothing!
Psalm 44 (verses 23-26 paraphrased above) is one of those Psalms I don’t expect. It begins well enough with the acknowledgement of God and his work in history. The Psalmist then moves to his security in God and his confidence in God’s continual work. It’s a celebration of God’s sovereignty and a pointed arrow at God’s strength and ability. Yay God.
Then it gets dark. The psalmist continues to point the finger at God, but instead of celebration, he brings accusation. He blames God for desertion and derision. He justifies himself before God and calls against God’s injustice of abandoning such a blameless heart. Verse 22 injects the splicing dagger, “for your sake we are killed all the day long.”
Thanks God.
As I read these words, I had to remind myself – this is Scripture. Whether God approved of the tone or not, whether the psalmist was in sin or not, the Holy Spirit has ordained these words and given them to us as a real life example of life with God. There’s something here He wants us to know.
This leads me to a question that I don’t know if I feel comfortable asking:
Can I be angry with God?
I’m not talking about just having a divine discontent in a sin-soaked world or just having a feeling of injustice when things don’t go my way. I’m asking a bigger question.
Can I stand before the Creator of the universe – the one who sent the Son to die on the cross on my behalf – the very Giver and Sustainer of my very breath – can I stand before this God and scream? Can I let him have it? Can I pour every ounce of pain, accusation and hurt to his face? Is this okay to do to God?
I admit as a Christian, there are times I don’t understand what God is doing. I bite my tongue and look at the world so bent against God’s plan, person and purpose, and ask in the depths of my heart….Really? How long, God? I know you have saved, are saving and will some day fully save, but God…
There are times that degree of questioning boils over and, like the psalmist, I want to pray destruction on God’s enemies. I want to pray fire and brimstone. But then I remember I once was an enemy of God, swallow my emotion, and return to my anemic prayerful list of those with medical conditions and repetitious uses of the words “just” and “be with us.”
When I consider this question and what God’s response is to my tempered emotion, I think of Lazarus’ sisters in John 11. They send word to Jesus. They have faith in him and know He will come through. And He doesn’t. He lets their sick brother die and he waits.
Upon the first word of His proximity, both sisters run to Jesus spitting accusation -ALL CAPS – if Jesus had been there, Lazarus would not have died!
What we see from Jesus is not rebuke at the audacity of questioning God. Jesus knows what He did. He knows how this looks. He knows the pain He caused. But Jesus also knows something else – He is God, and He is good.
God is extremely secure with His ability to be God. He knows the weight and bears it gladly. He also knows we are not God. It can be scary for us walking through life on earth. He knows walking in darkness creates many stubbed toes and in a sin-soaked world, we are never away from the stench of decay on our own clothes.
Just like with Job, when he angrily spewed at God, the response is not condemnation for the anger, but a reminder of who God is.
In this way, I am comforted by (but still nervous about) the idea that I can be angry with God. I can read through the broad pendulum swings of the heart contained in the Psalms and believe that’s what God wants from me. I can ALL-CAPS every concern, every circumstance, every boiling area of my heart before Him knowing that He sees it there anyway.
But I also know while I can be angry with God, I need to do so under the blood of Jesus. If anyone should be angry, it should be the very God against whom we have committed cosmic treason. If anyone has the right to ask for smashed enemies, it’s the Father. But instead, He smashed the Son on our behalf.
So today, lay it all before Him. Throw all the ugly out on the floor and say, “Here’s what it looks like to me.” It’s okay. It’s in the Bible. But remember our perspective is limited, our motives often selfish, and our will should be submitted to Him.
Even in our anger, let us pray alongside Jesus Christ, “Not my will, Father, but yours be done.”
by Ryan Smith | Jun 15, 2016
Be careful, church, lest we forget who we are, who we were, and who our God is.
It seems with every tragedy, political pivot, or cultural gasp, we as the church are quick to weigh in and quick to act. Much of this has been positive in light of the most recent devastating attack that brutally murdered around 50 of our LGBT neighbors in Orlando, injuring many more physically and emotionally, at the hands of an Islamic extremist.
Many voices are quick to support, mourn, and love. Sadly, many are just as quick to use the events to raise a battle cry against Muslims, homosexuals, liberals, conservatives and everything in between.
But be careful church. Remember who we were.
“Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God” (1 Cor. 6:9-11).
None of us has a single boast in our salvation. We are not a part of the body of Christ because we figured out the right politics or fell in line with sexual mores. We are all chasing idols – false gods – including the sexual deviations our society embraces apart from the intervening work of God in Christ by the Spirit. When we speak out as the church, we do so as former (and struggling) thieves, drunkards, sexually immoral people who have been shown something greater – the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We are given no higher standing above our neighbor because of this. Rather we are spiritually blind people who have been given sight. We are beggars who have been given bread in order to show others where to find it. This does not give us license to kick the currently blind or become haughty with our gift of vision and a full stomach. We have a different calling.
Be careful church. Remember who we are.
We are given a light not just so we can walk in light, but that we may take it to the darkness – to people soaked in the very same sins we ourselves are being saved out of. We must mourn as we see another expression of a lost world. As sin raises its ugly head, we must be alongside the injured and protecting those in its wake.
Paul, in thinking upon his salvation out of servitude to religion, does not ridicule those still unaware of the truth. He does not look at those clothed in sin and scoff at how wrong they are.
“For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh” (Rom. 9:3).
Do you wish that you yourself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of the swindler? Would you lay down your own salvation so that the active LGBT community could know the surpassing grace of Christ? Do you who once followed a different religion (Islam, Judaism, Atheism, Word of Faith) weep over those still deceived to the extent of despairing of your own eternal life?
We were no different. We are no different. Apart from Christ, we are all just chasing wind.
Be careful church. Remember who God is.
God is the one who sent the Son to save sinners. God is the one who was reviled by the religious elite for his friendship with the prostitute, the rich thief, and the societally filthy. God is the one who cried alongside a mourning community – enraged at the effects of sin – though he knew the greater outcome. God is the one who got his hands dirty and reached down through the stench of this world to save you if indeed you are in Christ. This is our God and he is still at work.
Church, if we cannot have compassion on the lost and love for our neighbor, we should seriously question whether we know and have experienced the compassion of Christ and the love of the Savior.
If we as the church cannot be the first to love the sexually immoral, the idolaters, the adulterers, the men who practice homosexuality, the thieves, the greedy, the drunkards, revilers, and swindlers, then we do not understand our mission as the church, nor our standing apart from Christ, nor our unmerited salvation in Christ.
We do not understand that the church is made up of such as these – such as us.
We are to be a light to the world. Dare we use that light to burn others?
Be careful church. Remember who we were. Remember who we are. Remember who God is.
by Ryan Smith | May 26, 2016
The conversation was simple enough. We were talking about Revelation and speculating on end-times events. We were discussing the role (or possible lack thereof) of America in the apocalyptic narrative and generally bantering to pass the time.
That was when I asked the question. It was a question mainly steeped in flippant curiosity, but the answer brought me to a level of unintended gravity.
“So if you had to guess, how long will America be around? Five hundred years? Two-hundred fifty years?” I asked.
His answer came quickly: “I’d say less than fifty.”
Now, I am not an alarmist (title of this blog aside) or a doomsday prepper. But the thought of such a massive shift occurring in my lifetime gave me a bit of a jump. What would have to happen for this to occur? What would be the impetus and the result?
The snowball of events daily scrolling across “Breaking News” feeds give me a taste of what a shift might look like. While I don’t believe the red, white and blue is unraveling, one would be hard pressed to deny that the colors are taking on altered hues.
One of our nation’s greatest strengths – touted by scholars for generations – is that our founding fathers drafted a document in the Constitution that upheld the goodness and faith in people to rise up, given opportunity and freedom. At the same time, they recognized these same people are bent toward power, greed, and left unchecked could tip the scales away from an open and balanced society. They included checks, balances, necessary processes, and delegated power across a broad spectrum so that many hands held the structure up.
Today, we see this diluted mainly into a two-party system where ideologies and values are assumed based on a strict line of separation between red and blue states. Whereas many pairs of hands propped the nation up, they have now largely consolidated into two large pairs – Republican and Democrat. Even these hands seem to be spending more time swiping at each other than actively holding the nation’s weight. Place this alongside an executive branch of government that instead of choosing to work within the constructs of the Constitution seeks ways to side-step the checks, disrupt the balances, and consolidate power under “orders” and “decrees,” and we see the very fleshing out of our founding fathers’ fears.
Many are asking – is this the unraveling of America? Is this the end?
I believe it is okay to acknowledge what we all see happening: it’s the end of the world as we know it, but this doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Much is changing, yet really nothing has changed.
The Gospel tells me what is broken is not a system of government, but a relationship with God. It is not our bathroom policies that are out of whack; it’s the heart of each man and woman seeking a path apart from the righteousness of God. In this way, it is not the system that is breaking but we who are already broken.
No policy can fix this. Every government is impotent to change the heart.
In many ways, yes, America has changed. But in many foundational ways, it has not. Our founding fathers knew we were a people bent towards greed and a lust for power. They knew even they were not perfect men. Whether they believed in God or not, they saw the disease of sin working in themselves. Therefore, they put their hope in a way the sickness could be managed, while still allowing a mutually beneficial coexistence. But even that was not our true hope.
The Constitution was never meant to save. Our founding fathers were not prophets. America is not covenant Israel. Political parties are not churches.
The change of what defines America has been rapid and tumultuous. There is no reason to assume it will slow down any time soon. The America our kids grow up in will be different in many ways than the America I grew up in – as was the case for my parents, their parents before them, and theirs before them. What we see in each generation is simply sin personified in different ways and a cry for a Savior shouted in a different tongue.
The change is undeniable. The America that once upheld the sanctity of the church is quickly turning to persecute her. But may the church always remember this is not our home. We are exiles in a land looking increasingly like Babylon or Rome. But God’s people have survived in both.
What every generation has needed and will need is the Gospel. While I feel powerless as a citizen in a nation rapidly shifting, I have been given the charge as an actively equipped minister of a new covenant based on a rock that is un-shifting and never changing (2 Cor. 3:6).
Whatever America holds in our future, we know that it does not hold the future. God does.
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright. O LORD, save the king! May he answer us when we call.” – Psalm 20:7-9