When Does Worship Become an Idol?

You probably clicked on this link because, well—there's NO WAY worship can be an idol, right? How could someone even ask something like this?

I get it, but this space has always been about exploring how we can worship better, individually and collectively. And sometimes, that means taking a hard look the material we use and appreciate in worship, and we must ask ourselves:

"Am I worshipping the Lord with this material? Or, am I worshipping the material itself and those who made it?"

In these next few sections, we'll look at the way words can work to distract us from what is true and helpful and how we chase experiences at the expense of what is essential: internalizing and proclaiming Gospel truths in our worship of a holy God.

Words Are Important

I was recently asked a question by a friend about singing the word "fail" when it comes to God's sovereign work. He struggled with singing phrases that emphasized "fail," but I pointed out that Scripture itself contains instances of God "never failing." It led to a discussion about what is true and helpful to sing, which is a hot topic of debate in Christian social circles. 

This will get me in hot water with some folks, but I'll stand by it and welcome your (backed-up) criticism: Our words should be crafted with the aim of absolute precision when it comes to confessing the nature, work, and promises of God. Choosing terms for the sake of being "edgy" or "authentic" and then conveniently re-defining them when pushback comes is NOT the way to go. (I'm looking at the "reckless" crowd here.) Say what you mean, and mean what you say—and leave no room for confusion or backpedaling.

In this same vein, when writers say things about "sloppy wet kisses" and "100 billion galaxies," they remove all sense of poetic beauty and maturity from the words they call the congregation to sing. Sure, one can probably get used to these words, but changes like "unforeseen kiss" and "a multitude of galaxies" capture the same essence and more, without resorting to crude or juvenile analogies that unsettle the singer (not in a helpful way).

On the other side of the coin, the hymn writers of old are ascribed a higher status because of flowery language that, for the most part, isn't relevant to the experience and understanding of our current speech. Indeed, there's something of an "elevated" quality when we sing words that have largely been dropped from our modern lexicon. I wonder—do we like the way these words make us appear when we sing them, ascribing that same elevation and sophistication to ourselves, instead of savoring their meaning in true worship?

There's a middle ground to this; our songs can capture the raw emotions of our faith journey while being precise, and our words can carry weight and depth, communicating the necessary Gospel truths we so desperately need to hear. But we too often idolize the trendy or the archaic, missing the opportunity to articulate the truth in ways that are helpful and relevant.

Experience Over the Essential

A couple weeks ago, I was disappointed (but not surprised) to hear of a men's conference, here in my home state, who fell into the trap of elevating experiences over the essential, edifying components of a sound worship service. (They've since apologized for what transpired, along with taking full responsibility for the guests that contributed to the controversy.) But, I'm reminded of this warning I heard not long ago: 

"Don't be surprised when you use carnal means to attract people into your church and it ends up being carnal altogether." 

For most folks, they would look at monster trucks and half-naked male acrobats and say, "Yeah... no. I'm out!" But what about the increased sophistication of productions that look nice, but don't ultimately point the congregation to God? What about repeated indulging of virtuoso vocalists and soloists, or conducting your body language on-stage like a rock star instead of a worship leader? Even now, we see churches that replace Jesus-centered songs in favor of secular hits, all in an attempt to be more relevant and attract more numbers. It's hardly the example of being set apart, nor moving in the direction that the apostle Paul called the Corinthian church to leave behind the flesh and pursue the Spirit. 

Let's go to the other extreme, where a piano, organ, and song leader is the only accepted instrumentation in a worship service. There's no room for any other instruments, often for this reason: "We just don't do that." Or, it's borne from an attempt to avoid any association with what is considered too "wordly." The result? It's a stifling of talent, service, and growth within the body of your church, which can lead to stagnation.

I've talked about this before, but the reminder still stands: Preferences can become idols, and don't confuse them with what is right, relevant, and required for your church to worship well. If your lights and effects point to Jesus, then great! If your simple, streamlined instrumentation points to Jesus, then that's great, too! But if sophistication becomes a distraction, or if your M.O. constrains the talents and service of your church members, then it's time to re-evaluate your approach.

The Bottom Line

Here's the deal: We have to find a balance between what gives us pleasure and joy, and what keeps us in line with correct, honorable worship—all of it pointing to God as the supreme object of our affections. Choose your words wisely, proclaim the truth boldly, and create an experience that makes room for all good talents to be used in glorifying the Lord as you fellowship together.

Be blessed 👊✌️