Hill-songs ain't what they used to be

Herein lies the problem. I knew Hill-songs before I knew Hillsong. Now for the record, I'm kind of embarrassed by the amount I talk about church music on this blog. Its the cause of the majority of disagreements in churches, and whilst the discussion itself can be worthwhile, most often it isn't. But its what people talk about, and so here again is my two cents worth (though cumulatively I must be well into whole dollars by now).

I grew up in a church which by every decent definition you'd care to attempt, would qualify as evangelical. Not being an Anglican church, I knew nothing of hymnbooks. Well, I guess I did, but it wasn't a hymnbook, it was Mission Praise. In terms of a name, Mission Praise doesn't really mean very much, except it was probably the shortest unique combination of words that the publishers could come up with, to avoid plagiarism. 

In terms of music, I would call my church 'progressive conservative'. For example, we sang Shine Jesus Shine, but only a couple of times a year, and only a few times through on each occasion. Furthermore, we were singing Emu songs before Emu existed. Rob Smith led mission teams to our church, and to me was the closest I ever came to a Christian celebrity (I don't count Steve Grace because I think I associated him more in the 'guys with long hair' group rather than the 'Chritian celeb' group). So our church sang the latest songs, yet mostly in a reserved 'stoic white people' kind of way. The exception was our youth service where the occasional rhythmic clapping would be employed where the song suggested its inclusion (Blind man sat by the road and he cried, anyone?)

So as part of this progressive conservatism we often sang the Hill-song, Shout to the Lord. It was oft repeated and I would belt out this particular belter as if God's hearing was dependent upon my shouting. I'm singing it right now in my head. Anyways, when a Christian friend from church (whose beloved family is perhaps the closest our church family came to having a 'charismatic bent') offered me the lend of a Hillsong album, I was stoked. The impetus for the lending was hearing another Hill-song that I liked - the song was called Every Day - at an ISCF camp.

Every Day became my favourite Christian song, even though we didn't sing it at our church. I'm pretty sure this was during the earlier days of music piracy, and I think I illegally copied the album to my computer. A few weeks later, I was sharing the discovery of this song with a fellow leader from another church (Southern Cross Presbyterian) at the famed North Coast Christian Youth Convention.
He asked me,

What do you like about it?

It's really catchy?

What about the words?

They're okay, I guess, but I haven't really thought about them.

And I hadn't. But I'd been challenged and it pulled me up short. Now the song, from memory was only significant in its lyrical insignificance, but for me it revealed at gap in my theology.

I'm extremely thankful for that conversation (shout out to long lost pal Jason Smart), because had I moved to Sydney without this chat and its subsequent investigations, I have little doubt I would have found myself heading along just to 'check out' Hillsong. The theological robustness of my home church would I hope have started alarm bells ringing had I went along, but perhaps not. With one of the overwhelming characteristics of Hillsong being a failure to say much of anything, I may not have found much of anything to disagree with.

These hypotheticals have limited value, but I often do wonder what my faith would be like, and who it would be in, had I ended up at Hillsong church.

But back to my opening proposition. Herein lies the problem. Hillsong and their theological distinctives were, in my mind, implicitly endorsed with the singing of Hill-songs at my dear home church. Had I compared the things taught at each, the vastly different theology and priorities would have been clear. Had I asked the question, I'm certain the differences would be explained. But nonetheless the endorsement had been there.

This word of personal testimony is behind my long held conviction that its best for evangelical churches not to sing Hill-songs. I'm certain I share more in common theologically with Hillsong than some other authors of popular songs. Yet the difference lies with the inextricable connection between Hill-songs and Hillsong church. This song/theology connection just isn't present with other songs. Of course, the theology is always in the songs, but provided the lyrical content is broad enough to be in agreement with my personal convictions, the automatic association between song and theological movement isn't present.

But I wonder if Hill-songs today are what they used to be. They have become so widely sung that they are no longer immediately identifiable with Hillsong church. Furthermore, the broader range of Hillsong songwriters means the 'big names' that were synonymous with Hill-songs are not as obvious these days.

Okay, I've run out of steam.

You can work out if I have a point behind these ramblings. There's probably one in there somewhere.

I guess I should finish with the obligatory (yet no less heartfelt) acknowledgement that I have many good friends who attend Hillsong, and I'm certain the church contains many brothers and sisters in Christ.

Speaking of Christian friends - and its kind of related to what I've said - I have an older, wiser family friend who gently suggested I shouldn't criticise Hillsong because when the Muslims take over, pentecostals will be standing beside us. The counsel perhaps delves a little unhelpfully into paranoid media beat-ups, and its probably not the best advice I've ever received about determining the limits of fellowship, but it was heartfelt.