By Jackson Posey | Sports Editor
From soft rock concerts and grand organs to monastic chants and a capella harmonies, it’s impossible to escape the conviction that Christians, everywhere, are singing.
It’s evident in the hymnals snuggled in the backs of pews; in the megachurch’s LED stage lighting; in the ever-growing Christian music industry. In a religion so often characterized by its beliefs, one communal practice — singing together — has remained constant through political, social and spiritual divisions.
But why?
The early church didn’t consider music central. When the second-century church father Justin Martyr described the church’s liturgy, he omitted singing from his depiction.
Justin described the Sunday service as beginning with a lengthy reading of Scripture — “as long as there is time” — and a short sermon or homily, exhorting the congregation to “imitate such examples of virtue.” Then the assembly prayed together and took the Eucharist, followed by a collection.
Except for a few details, that was the service: Scripture, prayer, Eucharist, giving. While exclusion is not proof of absence, it is worth considering a modern parallel: it would be difficult to imagine a description of a contemporary church service that did not mention music. At the very least, music played a substantially different role in those early days than it does now.
Yet the early church certainly sang together. The apostle Paul encouraged the church at Ephesus to address “one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart.” James called the cheerful to “sing praise.” Jesus and the disciples sang a hymn the night he was betrayed.
Whatever the reason for the omission, Justin’s account implies, at the very least, that some churches were slow to adopt music as a core practice. Those who did sing, though, loved it.
“[God] blended melody with prophecy in order that, delighted by the modulation of the chant, all might with great eagerness give forth sacred hymns to Him,” wrote John Chrysostom, the renowned preacher and bishop, around the turn of the fifth century. “For nothing so uplifts the mind, giving it wings and freeing it from the earth, releasing it from the chains of the body, affecting it with love of wisdom, and causing it to scorn all things pertaining to this life, as modulated melody and the divine chant composed of number.”
Chrysostom established no qualifications of age or ability; anyone with “a sober mind, an awakened intelligence, a contrite heart, sound reason, and clear conscience” could be a part of “God’s sacred choir.”
The reformer Martin Luther eventually took that baton and ran with it, establishing the priesthood of all believers as a core Protestant doctrine. He went on to write hymns in the vernacular language of the people, allowing clear comprehension of the worship service for every churchgoer — a radical change from the Latin mass.
Such a thorough emphasis on the common man created the groundwork for centuries of liturgical democratization, particularly in the U.S. The Second Great Awakening featured the popular rise of informal, emotional, highly expressive worship; early Pentecostalism took things a step further by allowing more dramatic and authoritative expression from anyone in the congregation.
Elsewhere, a distinct musical emphasis flourished. New England Puritans introduced church choirs in the late 18th century, just as popular symphonies like Handel’s “Messiah” began to earn international acclaim. Hymn books and singing schools became widespread. Music was officially taking center stage in the church.
The movement has reached a new high point in the past 50 years. The indie pop and rock of the Jesus Movement spurred Christian music into the mainstream consciousness, spawning an industry of recording and radio giants. Evangelical music owes much of itself to the revivals of the 1960s and ‘70s, with artists still lamenting alongside Larry Norman, albeit in different words, “Why should the devil have all the good music?”
Charismatics, including many in nondenominational churches, now see musical participation as the central act of Christian worship. It’s evident in the way they discuss “worship” — a hypernym that has largely been subsumed into singing, dancing and instrumentation.
Many of these believers basically understand “worship” to operate as a cycle. The supplicant approaches God as a “living sacrifice,” singing and dancing wholeheartedly before God. God then blesses them spiritually with joy, peace, healing, etc., and grants them renewed vigor to continue experiencing his presence through worship.
In this way, the priesthood of believers offers a continual sacrifice to God, in a way that is both inherently communal and deeply personal. This theological stream sees encountering the presence of God as the highest calling and greatest joy within the Christian life. In the past few decades, it has become a dominant view among many low church Protestants.
For Charismatics, and for the countless other Protestants influenced by parts of their theology, music is not merely a rote practice. It represents a vibrant, flowing, spiritual encounter between God and his people. The act has taken on sacramental importance within an non-sacramental tradition, not because of a robust sacramental theology per se, but because of the deep, centralized value placed on meeting with God’s presence.
Today, there are too many streams of church music to condense into a single article. Most traditions use similar Biblical language to describe their musical worship — devotion, adoration — but express these ideals in wildly different ways.
The dominant strand within American Protestantism, however, has become deeply influenced by the Charismatics: informal, emotional, expressive worship, led by soft rock bands and popular music. While these traditions are rarely known for deep historical engagement, they may find some early echoes of their worship practices throughout Christian history.
“God established the psalms, in order that singing might be both a pleasure and a help,” Chrysostom wrote. “The words purify the mind and the Holy Spirit descends swiftly upon the mind of the singer. For those who sing with understanding invoke the grace of the Spirit.”
