When I first came to Kentucky, I thought about branching out in my worship. I grew up Lutheran, a liturgical denomination, so before finding another church similar to home, I tried a modern, non-denominational church. The coffee in the narthex was good, albeit overpriced. I wondered why there were earplugs by the sanctuary doors. Then the band started, and I desperately stumbled my way through the blacked-out amphitheater to find them. The music was great — I could feel the bass in my chest — and the sermon was entertaining.
But I didn’t go back.
It just didn’t feel like worship.
All the theatrics — the dark room, the fog machines, the choreographed lights and professional cameramen — were all meant to inspire an emotional response to the music, sermon and prayer. The quality of the service was not measured by the message, but by how the worship made the congregant feel. This focus on feelings distracts from doctrine. How many times have you clapped, danced and sang your heart out to your favorite worship song? You might have been swayed to an emotional response, and you remember having a good time singing, but do you remember what the song was about? What did the pastor preach on that day?
This tendency to attribute the worth of something to the emotions it evokes is called emotionalism. Modern worship thrives on stimulus and response. Feeling that bass in your chest makes you want to throw your hands up and sing loud. Theologian Stephen Nichols describes the term well, saying, “When you get into emotionalism, the barometer for what is true or what is real becomes how I feel about it. So if I feel excited about this, this thing is good. If I don’t feel excited about this, this thing is bad. We can even judge doctrine that way.” Emotionalism becomes how we judge truth, and in church, it causes the elevation of the worship itself instead of the elevation of God.
This isn’t to say that emotions have no place in worship. God didn’t make us purely cerebral, rational beings; we have both a mind and a heart. A lot of scriptural worship is emotional, like David, whose passion for God is evident in his psalms. However, the emotions we feel in worship need to stem from knowledge and reverence of God and his Word, not from feel-good lyricism or somber chord progressions.
Implementing cerebral aspects of worship can balance out the overemphasis on the emotional. Quiet, introspective worship — like pauses for reflection, confession, creeds and responsive reading — takes congregants away from the heart and into the mind, encouraging them to dwell on the words they’re hearing. However, like emotionalism, there is danger in a purely rational worship. Cold, academic study of God’s word can create an impartial worshiper–someone detached from the practical application of biblical truths in his or her life. While we want to avoid emotionalism in order to objectively evaluate truth, emotion is necessary to find connection between those truths and our relationships with God and others.
Good worship is balanced worship. Modern churches’ tendencies towards emotionalism can be dangerous for doctrine, as truth is not found through emotional response. It is a comfort to know that God’s truth transcends our disordered human emotionalism and that truth can be found in His Word. In the words of Martin Luther, “Feelings come and feelings go, and feelings are deceiving; My warrant is the Word of God — Naught else is worth believing.”
Article written by Carolyn Raymon, business manager.
Photo courtesy of Unsplash.
