First published in the Baptist Times 1 July 2011
Nothing fuels eternal controversy in churches as much as worship style. Old hymns, '80s songs, or explosions of passion and sound that defy definition? To drum or not to drum? Organ, tambourine, keyboard, rap, hip-hop? Standing still with hymnbooks or writhing on the floor with abandon?
Over decades of debating and dissing one another's viewpoints, the indisputable ideal - of reverent worship of the God who made us all to one recipe but with infinite flavours - may shift subtly to 'my ideal.'
It may be ungenerous, but I suspect that those churchgoers who clamour the loudest for their own preferred style of public worship may be actually using it least, in private worship.
I have a friend whose way of praying wouldn't attract attention among African pentecostals, with their emphasis on whole-body worship. But the average-Brit team of church worship Ofsted-inspectors would regard it as slightly demented. I find it advisable to keep a safe distance once the music begins, or risk getting struck by randomly flailing bits of anatomy.
But it's not done to attract attention, or to wipe out fellow pew-sharers, but as a genuine celebration of God who creates us moment by moment, body, emotions and soul. I know this because it's the way this particular person always worships - at home, at night alone in the kitchen, in the throes of a family crisis or bout of depression, fair weather or foul, in public or in private. Wholehearted worship involves the whole heart and soul, personality and physiognomy. Extravagant souls need to worship extravagantly. For them, anything else wouldn't be worship.
I love hearing older churchgoers sing traditional hymns. Musically, lyrically and spiritually, it's not my style. I find the tunes more suited to marching into war and the words obscure, with as many as possible crammed into every line. Struggling with archaic tongue-twisters and an aversion to martial music doesn't help me to worship God.
But what does is the passion with which the people who love these hymns sing them out in community, quote lines from them in times of trouble, and pray from them alone at home. For these people, the lyrics are full of meaning and the music full of dignity. Long may they sing them and celebrate God, who inspired their composers to pour into worship of him their heart, soul, faith, musicianship, culture, personality and time-slot in history.
A man from a previous church made a painful journey to faith, from the depths of alcoholism and homelessness. He was happy when not only his new church family supported him in his desire for baptism and a fresh start in God's grace, but his children came along as well. They listened attentively to his accounts of how Jesus can change a life that nothing else can touch, and were clearly relieved to see the difference in their dad, whom they loved.
But he worried that his past states of disgrace might have influenced them as much as his present - sometimes wobbly - state of grace, and as they reached their teens he was vigilant for signs that they might go astray as he had done at their age.
So when his son, huddled over the computer one evening, shielded the screen and blurted, 'No, Dad, don't look!' as he approached, he was concerned. What was a teenage boy watching that he didn't want his dad to see?
Minutes later his son called him back. 'OK, Dad, you can look now - I've finished it.' He gazed at a garish computer-assisted image of a spaced-out, hip-looking bearded young man standing by a futuristic car with gold wheels adorned with lurid flames, haloed by the slogan: 'Jesus pimps my ride!'
'Do you think Jesus will like it?' the boy asked anxiously. 'I did it for him.'
His father gulped. 'You know what?' he said. 'He'll love it.'
Worship God with all you have within you. The forms of reverence are infinite.
