As a younger and more energetic man, I led the worship teams at my local church. Anyone who’s done so will know that such a position is oft times rewarding and sometimes really discouraging—even contentious. Seemingly, a debate that never abates is over whether we should sing new or old songs, contemporary praises, choruses or hymns. Using a personal anecdote and the Psalms, I enter that fray.
Following a Sunday worship service, many years ago, I was enjoying a quiet cup of tea when a table of familiar older faces waved me over. It was a group of senior ladies, most of whom I knew well. Expecting our usual warm conversations, I was surprised when one of them opened by saying, “We have a bone to pick with you, Graham.” “By all means,” I replied, “what’s the matter?” They proceeded to point out that earlier that same morning, we’d sung only two hymns; but the other three or four songs—to their disappointment—were of newer, more modern stock. I sat through their criticisms, trying not to get my back up; I even apologised that none of the songs we’d recently introduced were older hymns. After all, the church has a tremendous repository of stunning hymns. But then came my opportunity for some gentle pushback.
Their criteria were different to God’s.
I asked them to tell me which was their favourite from our newer songs—maybe Only a Holy God or Come Praise and Glorify. Without much hesitation, they told me that they didn’t like any of them. Not one; I mean, not even 10,000 Reasons. I was taken aback. Perhaps my memory is making me out to be more daring than I was in the moment, but I think I suggested to them that their partiality towards older songs and hymns was nothing more than personal preference; in fact, I said, if they couldn’t heartily worship God while singing newer choruses and modern hymns it meant their criteria were different to God’s.
The Place for Preference
Now, I love a good hymn as much as anyone else born in the 20th century. But to imply that all Christian songs written later than, say, the 18th century are somehow deficient is to confuse style for substance; personal preference with fidelity and truth. Thankfully, God continues to bless his Church with gifted songwriters. Thus, most readers could undoubtedly add countless songs to the few I mentioned above. All of this is to say: we mustn’t confuse our preferences with orthodoxy.
I’m not suggesting you can’t have preferences.
I’m also not suggesting you can’t have preferences. I have favourite hymns and hymn writers, as well as modern choruses and contemporary songwriters. But I know that there are many others across the ages that I’m unaware of, and will perhaps never sing. Thankfully, we’ll worship God in song in glory (Revelation 5:9)—when God gathers the diverse goods of his universal Church into the new heavens and new earth (Revelation 7:9). Until then, we’ll have our blind spots. Hence, it’s important we don’t insist that our preferences are exclusively the most God-glorifying setlist available for Sunday worship.
Two Points From the Psalms
As I’ve reflected on that conversation all those years ago and written this piece, my mind has repeatedly gone to the Psalms, for two reasons.
I can’t imagine Zerubbabel complaining that they only sang 7th century psalms on shabbat.
The first is that “the Bible’s songbook” (Psalms) spans some six centuries of writing. Even if Moses wasn’t the author of Psalm 90 and David was in fact the earliest psalmist, at least 600 years stand between the first and final entry into the collection that we know as Psalms. Yet I can’t imagine Zerubbabel complaining to Jeshua that they only sang Psalms from the 7th to 5th centuries BCE on shabbat. “Where was the “prayer of Moses?” (Psalm 90:1). “I’m tired of singing the psalms of Asaph.”
Secondly, together with the lengthy period of time through which the Psalter was compiled (above), the Psalms vary widely in type and genre. This is reflected both in our English designations—psalms of lament, imprecation or praise—and the Hebrew classifications, such as Shiggaion (Psalm 7), Miktam (Psalm 16) and Maskil (Psalm 32). This, far more than their antiquity or age, would have determined when the Israelites sang a Psalm.
Worship should vary in style or genre, theological density as well as mood and feeling.
Taken together, the songs or hymns that we sing during Sunday worship should be carefully chosen, for both their theology and our situation. While preaching through Lamentations, it would be strange to sing rousing choruses. Likewise, a sermon series on joy should be supplemented with full-throated hymns of praise. Just as the Psalms, our corporate worship can and should vary in style, genre, and theological density, as well as mood and feeling. Incorporating a fuller range of songs and hymns on Sundays will make room for not only theological breadth but also greater expression.
Sing With Thankfulness in Your Hearts
If the Psalter was compiled in 2025, it would contain songs dating back to the early 1400s—possibly even further. Ironically, most people insisting on hymns don’t realise that their preferred ‘collection’ actually spans a similar timeframe: Luther was writing hymns in the 16th century; Tate in the 17th; Wesley, Newton and Watts dominated the 18th century; Spafford and Bonar the 19th; Habershon and Excell the 20th. Finally, the classic In Christ Alone from Getty and Townend was written this century. Only I’m yet to hear someone dismiss it for being too modern.
I’m yet to hear someone dismiss ‘In Christ Alone’ for being too modern.
“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly,” writes Paul in Colossians 3:16. How? By “teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” Judging by that famous verse, gratitude to God is indispensable to worship; preference not so much.
DON’T HAVE PAYPAL TO SET UP A MONTHLY DONATION? If you would like to donate via Payfast – a secure payment gateway available to donors both inside and outside of Africa – please click here.
