Worship of the living God

The son of a church musician, I grew up in the 1970s and ’80s in the era of the “worship wars.” The advent of folk styles, Scripture songs, and contemporary Christian music raised questions about the holiness of God versus His immanence—debates that have much in common with the worship wars of the early church and the medieval church, not to mention Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli in the 16th century. At the time, all I knew was that we sang out of a different songbook on Sunday night than the hymnbook we used on Sunday morning. As I continued to study music and pursue my call to serve the church by planning and leading worship, I continued to wrestle with this fundamental question: What exactly is worship?

A sense of place

A good hymnbook can be an invitation into another era, perspective, and set of priorities. I found one such on my mother’s shelf—The Psalter and Church Hymnary, authorized by the Church of Scotland in 1880 in which the metrical psalms are presented on split pages. Here was a collection of hymn texts and music that spanned 1500 years of worship. I felt like an orphan that had been reunited with a hitherto unknown family who entered my life bearing riches and beauty beyond comprehension. Here was a connection to the history of my calling—from David to the temple musicians to the hymns sung after the Last Supper to the fight against early heresies to the hymns of Ambrose and Gregory’s reforms and Reformation chorales crowned by the art of J.S. Bach.

With that foundation, perhaps my most formative hymnbook has been The Plainsong Psalter edited by James Litton in which all 150 psalms have antiphons along with call and response settings on chanted tones. I have led thousands of prayer services from this psalter as part of the daily life of the college where I teach. I chose this songbook to expose students to a part of their spiritual legacy that was foreign to them. I did not realize how formative—in thought and heart—this practice would become. Recently a student told me he had resolved to memorize more Scripture only to be surprised by how much he already knew through the consistent singing of God’s word by means of the chanted psalms.

A sense of purpose

After college in the early ’90s I moved to Nashville searching for a role in worship leadership. I still had a lot to learn, but the voices I kept hearing concerning worship and music seemed to have weak arguments. Then someone in my home church gave me a copy of O Come, Let Us Worship by Robert G. Rayburn, which provided helpful guidance. Rayburn’s book was the first of its kind that I had read, and he gave flesh and blood to things I’d been thinking but for which I didn’t have the words. He spoke biblically and historically with boldness and assurance. He defined the nature of worship between God and His people, set forth an order derived from biblical principles, and stated objective reasons why some songs are not suitable for congregational worship. Subsequent reading, research, and practice built on this foundation. With the perspective of 30 years, I might be more critical of some passages, but I am still grateful for Rayburn’s work.

A sense of longing

I love reading and teaching fiction, including our monthly literature dis­cussions at church. Sometimes there is more truth in fiction than in the facts of nonfiction. A constant friend has been Walter Wangerin Jr.’s allegory The Book of the Dun Cow in which the formative power of liturgy and music shapes and unifies a community. Chauntecleer the rooster crows the daily hours, delineating sleep and dawn, work and rest, and the completion of the day. His songs are ones of communion, of sorrow, of rest and benediction. They are also the songs of war to inspire courage to fight evil. Moreover, Wangerin portrays the loneliness of leadership, the self-doubt and recognition of sin and inadequacies, and the seemingly unanswered prayers of complaint. The uncomfortable light that he shines in these dark recesses provokes repentance and dependence on the Lord’s calling—to spend less time feeling sorry and more focused on the truth of the gospel. It’s a helpful reminder of the purpose and power of worship and the call of the worship leader.

A sense of direction

The beauty of the created cosmos, its reflection in the Garden of Eden, the Tabernacle, the Temple, the incarnation of Christ, and the redemption of the church as the Bride of Christ make me respond in gratitude and praise for the plans and purposes of our loving Father. There are many texts I have read over the years that talk about worship this way, but the best has been Recalling the Hope of Glory by Allen P. Ross. He beautifully covers theology and typology, but he also points to the holiness of God as one to be worshipped and adored. He stirs the reader beyond intellectual consideration to actual worship. He defines worship as “the celebration of being in covenant fellowship with the sovereign and holy triune God, by means of the reverent adoration and spontaneous praise of God’s nature and works, the expressed commitment of trust and obedience to the covenant responsibilities, and the memorial reenactment of entering into covenant through ritual acts, all with the confident anticipation of the fulfillment of the covenant promises in glory.” His writing makes the heart sing and long for the redemption of the cosmos, for the Lamb upon His throne, and the marriage supper of the Lamb—the focus and end of all our worship.

—Gregory Wilbur is the chief musician and liturgist at Cornerstone Presbyterian Church, author of Soli Deo Gloria: The Life and Legacy of J.S. Bach, and founder of New College Franklin in Franklin, Tenn.