I can hear the protests already: “performance you say? No son, here we worship in the power of the Spirit, we don’t perform!” Such were the words of a youth pastor of mine, burned into my memory as a young boy at an important spiritual and artistic crossroad. The wonder and fascination that the great classical composers held over me, even from earliest memory of five and six years old, was gruffly juxtaposed by what I experienced in church. The tension, confusion, even physical pain I felt at the horrific intonation of the orchestra, a piano left un- tuned for years and a general ethic of bliss- fully under-rehearsed volunteerism led a young church kid down a road to a fractured view of the performance of worship.

LIFT THE BAN

The word performance itself, in the context of a musical worship service, has often assumed almost a taboo status and held an unnatural negativity—meaning human effort, entertainment, or the flesh in motion. It has been awkwardly pitted against all things of the Spirit. The secular vs. the sacred, the technically superior vs. the anointed, the studied vs. the spirit-led; the more time you’ve spent around church

music, the more familiar these false dichotomies sound. Of course, plenty of examples of the opposite extreme also abound in which artistry is exalted to its own place of worship—our fallen nature is ever susceptible to subverting God’s glory. Just ask anyone on Sunday morning about their worship experience after the guitarist took over the service in a blaze of free-form Jazz-guitar-solo glory. In fact, the tendencies of our flesh are at times used as the basis of objection to an ethic/theology of musical excellence in our worship. Often, in our desire for a pure worship experience devoid of anything unspiritual, one blatantly obvious reality is obscured: a performance of some kind must take place. In order for anything musical to occur at all in a worship service, a hand must be lifted, a mind engaged, and we then proceed to ply the craft we have taken years to perfect. We are, in fact, performing regardless of our motives, understanding of anointing or our philosophical objections.

Mere semantics? Hardly, when you consider that how we think about some- thing informs every action toward it. Take theology for example. Our concept of God informs every aspect of our relationship with Him, our very life. So, if we are indeed performing, then for Whom? Is the audience your god or is God your audience? If God is your audience, it changes every- thing. I’m not saying that God is the only audience but rather the ultimate One—the One who has invited us to worship. As we worship God, our ability to also lead a congregation in the same is transformed into a sacred performance putting all other functions of worship, such as spiritual warfare and corporate edification, in their rightful place. In this light, we musicians, writers, leaders, singers, conductors—in- deed, all musical worshipers—are engaged in the ultimate performance art. Your performance isn’t at odds with a pure worship; it is your worship.

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE

I remember an epiphany I had about musicianship while attending university. While I was studying both classical composition and commercial recording arts, the university organized a panel of industry pros to lecture on commercial session work. One panel guest, quite unassumingly submitted a three-word phrase that, while disarmingly

simple, hit me like a ton of bricks. “Know your audience,” he said.While he was refer- ring to the subtleties in choice of keyboard style one employs with certain producers for certain genres, isn’t this really at the heart of our worship performance? If God is the audience, what, then, is good enough for Him? Just how masterful should a performance be for the Creator of the universe? Will a quickie 30 minute run through of the choir songs on Thursday night cut it when the King of Kings shows up? How does our craft stack up to what the world offers its idols, gods and VIPs? Is this all just idealistic, pretentious and subjective reflection, or can a practical reality be extracted that leads us from a practical theology to the practice of excellence in the service of worship?

There are two arenas in which this can live or die: In the community of church leadership and in the hearts and minds of individual musician worshipers.

MORE THAN MERE PERFORMANCE

In the global church at large, our worship should actually be a wonder to the world by all artistic standards, yet intrinsically and divinely set apart from mere entertainment or artistic indulgence. I’m not suggesting that believers are any more or less talented than un-believers. Any honest afternoon with a Mahler Symphony, Beatles anthology or Stevie Wonder record will debunk that myth in a hurry. God’s gifts are irrevocable whether or not we acknowledge Him. But only when church leaders nurture an environment and worldview that makes our musical offerings an urgent matter of corporate devotion can the church assume its rightful function in worship. Music programs will be healthier when neither the extreme of slick professionalism nor unqualified but faithful volunteerism is exalted one above the other, but where a fusion of skilled, masterful, costly, sacrificial musicianship bathed in the Holy Spirit is the only thing considered good enough for our “Audience.” I know, we’re aiming pretty high here aren’t we? Of course, it would be idealistic and fruitless to assume the massive array of local churches and denominational cultures wouldn’t also produce a huge spectrum in degree of quality given their individual resources. But whether paid professional church musician or volunteer, once God has your best, I mean your very best, the miracle of personal and corporate transformation is scripturally, inevitable.