A Defense of Modern Worship

A not-so-short and mostly-sweet open letter to my Christian-traditionalist friends that have a chip on their shoulder.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of watching church leaders go statue‑mode in the very moment Scripture commands us to sing—standing with arms folded, lips sealed, waiting it out like it’s a dental appointment. I’m tired of the sit‑down strike that lasts an entire set. I’m tired of the dramatic walk‑out—not because the words are false, but because the style isn’t familiar. That’s not always discernment; that’s a definition problem and, in some cases, a heart problem. We’ve baptized nostalgia as orthodoxy. We’ve let pride keep us from singing a new song.

I’m writing this because the misunderstanding is pastoral and fundamental. Worship isn’t a genre; it’s our response to God’s revelation. The church sings because the Bible won’t stop telling us to. If the saints are declaring the truth about Jesus and your move is to go silent and just stand there scowling—something’s off, and it’s not the kick in the subwoofers.

I’m specifically writing to my friends in collars and cardigans—the pastors and theologians who accuse modern worship of “emotional manipulation” while preaching sermons that build to a carefully crafted crescendo (as they should!), hoping the truth will land in the heart (as it must!). Let’s be consistent. We all aim for the affections because we’re shepherding humans, not Microsoft Excel. Heat without light is hype; light without any heat is a lecture. The goal is truth felt because it is truth known.

I’m writing because I love hymns, and I refuse to let them be weaponized. Hymns are not the 67th book of the Bible. They were once the disruptive technology of their day: print‑ready catechesis for regular people. Today we have different tools and a wider media ecosystem. So no, a modern chorus isn’t a doctrinal downgrade by default. Simplicity can be hospitality. Repetition can be discipleship. Volume can be celebration. Beauty, whether pipe or pixel, can be obedience when it bows to Jesus.

I’m writing because I have devoted my life to stewarding the desires of God in worship for the sake of His Bride, and because of that I have receipts—biblical, historical, and practical—and because I’m done playing the villain in someone else’s caricature of what modern worship is. If you think theology has vanished from our songs, let’s read the lyrics together. If you think emotion equals manipulation, let’s talk about holy affections, the tears of Saint Augustine, and the throne room that never stops crying “Holy.” If you think hymns are the only faithful option, let’s revisit how the church has always fought about new music before adopting it as tradition.

Mostly, I’m writing because I want a singing church again—heads and hearts, young and old, hymn and chorus—one family lifting one Name.

I’m not here to pick a fight. I’m here to set the record straight, to invite you back into the song, and to ask all of us (but especially our leaders) to lay down our nostalgia and try to understand.

Below is my defense for modern music and aesthetics as a medium for worship of the Highest King, Jesus.

1) We’ve Been Here Before (Why “new” worship always feels like a crisis)

Let’s start with some holy history.

Hymns weren’t beamed down from heaven in perfect four-part harmony. They were once edgy, disruptive, and (brace yourself) new.

Before hymnals, worship was oral. People chanted psalms and recited antiphons. Then came the printing press, and suddenly the church had books—with songs in them! Accessible! Reproducible! Democratized worship!

People freaked out. “It’s too accessible! Too common! Too emotional!”

Sound familiar?

Yesterday’s hymnals are today’s screens. Yesterday’s pipe organs are today’s subwoofers. Every generation’s “modern” becomes the next generation’s “traditional.”

Now, if you think that this is the first time we’ve ever argued about it, pour a coffee and crack open some sources. In early 18th‑century New England, churches split over switching from lining out psalms (call‑and‑response by memory) to “regular singing” from books. A 1723 report called the new way “the hand of the Devil,” describing shouting matches mid‑service when the note‑readers plowed ahead without the deacon’s line‑by‑line prompts. This wasn’t a Twitter thread; it was the Lord’s Day.¹

Fast‑forward: the Church of England didn’t officially approve hymn singing until 1820 after a Sheffield dust‑up. Imagine your vestry suing you for introducing “How Great Thou Art.” (We have, historically.) Hymns were a controversy—then became the norm.²³

In America, congregations slowly moved from exclusive psalmody to “Watts entire,” adopting Isaac Watts’s hymns—again, not without resistance. Your favorite “classic hymn service” was someone else’s scandal.⁴

We even fought about organs. In the 1700s–1800s, many Reformed and Presbyterian congregations called the organ a popish innovation; entire newspapers debated whether adding one would turn church into a playhouse. (Spoiler: they lost; the organ stayed.)⁵⁶

Point: Every generation inherits its grandparents’ “new music” as tradition. What feels like decline might just be déjà vu.

2) “But modern worship music is too simple.”

Good. That’s often the point.

Congregational songs are supposed to be singable. That means limited range and memorable concepts that help translate The Gospel. Practical guides routinely place the average congregational comfort zone roughly from about B3 to D5—i.e., not your radio‑demo key, but the key your dentist can sing in.⁷ Maybe simplicity and repetition aren’t bugs? Maybe they’re how non-pros join the chorus?

“Simple” is not the enemy of “true.” More often than not, it’s the servant of “together.”

3) “But it’s repetitive!”

You mean like… the Bible?

The throne room soundtrack repeats: “Holy, holy, holy.” Not once. Not twice. “Day and night they never cease to say—‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty…’” (Rev 4:8). That’s not filler; that’s formation.

Psalm 136 repeats “for his steadfast love endures forever” 26 times. That is either (a) lazy lyric writing from the Holy Spirit, or (b) a masterclass in habituating hope through sung truth. I’m voting (b).

Jesus repeats himself constantly: “The kingdom of heaven is like…”—again and again—because repetition moves doctrine from your notebook into your bones. Repetition isn’t a modern crutch. It’s an ancient catechism delivered through melody.

Music psychology agrees: repetition increases familiarity and recall (the “mere exposure effect”). It’s the way God wired human memory. Robert Zajonc showed that repeated exposure boosts preference and retention—exactly what you want when half the room doesn’t know verse 2.⁸

And why did 19th‑century gospel songs add refrains and verse‑chorus forms? To be easily learned in revival tents and mass meetings. The structure was intentional: a strophic verse with a hook you’d carry out of the room and into the week. Sound familiar? That “modern chorus” is a great‑great‑grandchild of Moody and Sankey’s evangelistic toolkit.⁹¹⁰

4) “It’s just emotionalism.”

Actually, holy affections are discipleship.

Jonathan Edwards—poster child of theological sobriety—argued that “true religion, in great part, consists in holy affections.” He warned against heat without light, yes, but insisted that genuine faith is deeply felt because it is truly known. Emotion isn’t the problem; untethered emotion is.¹¹

We were created to feel when we worship. Singing isn’t a man-made add-on. It’s baked into creation. Scripture overflows with it—from the Psalms to Revelation. Heaven is full of music.

When you sing about your Father calling you home, about redemption, about grace that chased you down—why wouldn’t that move you? That’s not manipulation. That’s homesickness for heaven.

And being emotional doesn’t mean you’ve lost your mind. Stoicism isn’t sanctification. Paul said, “Be sober-minded,” not “Be robotic.”

Singing unites cognition, memory, and desire. That’s why a song from youth group can ambush you at Costco. Music encodes memory beyond mere propositions. It stitches truth to the heart. (Cognitive research keeps rediscovering what the psalmists knew.)¹²

So when worship stirs emotion, the question isn’t “Was it emotional?” but “Was it truthfully emotional?” Joy over the resurrection is not performative hype. It’s sanity.

Now, preference is fine. You love hymns? Fantastic. They’re rich, beautiful, timeless. But preference isn’t principle.

What’s not fine is treating your personal taste like divine truth.

I’ve seen pastors rail against emotional worship leaders, then cry mid-sermon while preaching about the Prodigal Son. You use emotion too, my guy. You just prefer your piano in B-flat and your tears behind a pulpit.

Everyone uses emotion. Some through guitars, others through rhetoric. Emotion isn’t the problem. Idolatry and Hypocrisy is.

5) Breath Prayers = the original chorus

Short, repeated prayers are older than your acoustic guitar. The ancient Jesus Prayer—“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me”—is a cornerstone of Eastern Christian spirituality, meant to be repeated continually. That’s not manipulation; that’s monastic wisdom tuning the heart to Christ. Call it the first modern chorus.¹³

6) “Hymns are deeper.”

Often! They were also strategic media for their time.

Hymns didn’t descend from Sinai on parchment paper. They were, in part, technology—printed catechesis for a culture whose theology travelled best by melody. The Wesleys basically scored doctrine so the people called Methodists could take it home. Luther wrote catechism hymns. Congregational singing was a method for teaching, not just an aesthetic. If you think modern writers are “using music,” congrats: you just rediscovered the Reformers.

And let’s correct a myth while we’re here: Luther didn’t nick tavern tunes for church. He used bar form (AAB), not bar songs. The point remains: he wrote for the people, on purpose.¹⁴

7) “Screens and lights?”

Beauty can be obedience.

If lights and screens are the problem, then what the heck is stained glass? We’re talking about panes literally designed just so that the light would cast beautiful colors in places of worship when the sun hit just right. And before anyone says, “But the church never did this with music,” please revisit the organ wars above. People panicked when a new medium made praise audible in a fresh way. We survived. We even wrote hymns about it.

We can go back even farther, when The Spirit filled Bezalel to create art for the tabernacle (More about visual worship soon. It requires it’s own article.)

Scripture commands praise with strings, winds, percussion, dance, and (brace yourself) loud cymbals. The question has never been if worship employs craft and power; it’s whether those tools are consecrated. Subs and spotlights don’t make worship worldly, idolatry does.

8) “High church vs. modern” is a false choice

The Church has always braided word, table, and song in diverse textures. Ambrose introduced antiphonal congregational singing in the West, and Augustine (of all people) admitted he was moved to tears by it. Beauty and order are friends. Form and freedom can sit on the same pew. Chill.¹⁵

Today’s sonic palette expands the church’s reach. Most of your people live far from the cathedral but carry a cathedral in their pocket. Meeting them on the airwaves with biblically rich lyrics isn’t selling out; it’s shepherding.

9) “But theology!”

Yes. So let’s write for this media ecosystem.

Hymns were dense partly because they had to carry more teaching alone. Now theology is also found in podcasts, classes, small groups, longform articles (hi), and a thousand micro‑liturgies in a congregant’s week. That frees corporate song to be clear, beautiful, and repeatable, not encyclopedic. In short: Deep theology, while still especially beautiful in song-form, doesn’t have to be the metric for every song we sing in church anymore. Maybe amidst the short-form brain rot and our run-n-gun culture, what people really need is more of an Ebenezer¹⁶ that reminds them to worship through it all during the week?

Want a case study in modern + rich? Try Phil Wickham & Brandon Lake’s “Love of God,” a congregational “modern hymn” that’s Christ‑exalting and memory‑friendly. Or sing the Gettys’ “Rejoice”—a fresh hymn‑style chorus that catechizes joy. This isn’t either/or; it’s both/and.

10) How to build modern worship that’s actually good (a field manual)

A. Center the throne, not the stage.

Measure a set by Christological clarity and congregational engagement, not streamer views.

B. Write for the room you have.

Keep the melodic range in a congregational pocket (roughly B3–D5). Save the heroic E♭s for the record.

C. Use repetition on purpose.

Repetition implants truth (see Rev 4 & Ps 136). Repeat the right things—the names, works, and promises of God.

D. Catechize across platforms.

Let sermons, small groups, and articles carry much of the doctrinal depth, and let songs do some distilling and delighting—head and heart, both. Not every song has to teach something profound. Maybe someone just needs a simple chorus throughout the week to remind them of the theology they learned in the church’s Sunday sermon… Or Wednesday night programming… Or podcast… Or class meeting/small group… Or book club (get it yet?).

E. Treat production as liturgy.

Aim lights, volume, and visuals like stained glass: to draw eyes to Jesus, not to you. (Bezalel would have loved an LED wall. He’d also have an opinion about your font choice.)

F. Keep a wide diet.

Pair a sturdy hymn with a modern chorus. Do old texts with new melodies—and new texts in hymn forms. The church’s song is a long table; set more places.

G. Guard the gate.

Not every catchy song is congregational, and not every “deep” song is singable. Finally, not every Christian song is accurate. Pastor your setlist like you pastor souls.

H. Be wise, don’t chase airwaves.

Not everyone should chase charts. But some should for the sake of evangelism, not worship. It may be worship for the artist that creates it, but not necessarily to the listener. Nevertheless, a few called, accountable, and church‑rooted radio artists can seed the culture with songs that preach when playlists shuffle.

11) “Culture comes from worship” (so make some)

The word culture traces to cultus—what a people worship and how they practice it. If we want a redeemed culture, we won’t nag it into existence; we’ll sing it into being—again. Put resources behind artists. Fund albums like you fund roofs. Commission beauty the way our forebears commissioned choirs and cathedrals.¹⁷

James K. A. Smith calls us “liturgical animals”: we’re formed by what we repeatedly love and do. Modern worship, done well, is one of the thick practices that reorders our loves around the Lamb.¹⁸

12) A word to the high church (with love)

We need you. Keep your creeds crisp and your liturgy luminous. But please holster the side‑eye when a congregation three miles away sings truth over a pad and a kick. If incense can rise as prayer, so can a chorus lifted by a sub. Beauty is catholic (little “c”): hymnals and screens belong in the same household.

And to the modernists: hold your nerve—and your Bible. Write better. Sing clearer. Open wider. If someone says, “It’s all emotional hype,” smile and hand them Edwards. If they say, “It’s all repetitive,” nod toward the throne room. If they say, “It’s all new,” remind them that’s what they said about hymns.

It’s not all bad. It’s worship when it’s for our Lord.

Postscript: Finding the Good Stuff

I’m working on a playlist of GOOD modern worship music. I’ll drop it here on Substack soon.

The Last Word

Here’s the point: stop making the medium the villain.

Hymns were once edgy. Modern worship will one day be traditional. The Spirit isn’t confined to one century’s soundtrack.

The enemy isn’t the guitar or the organ. It’s either idolatry of cool and edgy Christian entertainment, or it’s the pride that says my way is the only way.

So, Worship Ministers… the next time someone complains about modern worship being “too repetitive,” maybe remind them that heaven’s chorus hasn’t changed in millennia. The next time they call it “too emotional,” ask if they’ve ever cried in a prayer or a sermon. And when they call it “too shallow,” just smile—and invite them to write something deeper.

Because the real question isn’t, “Do I like it?”

The real question is, “Does it lead people to sing, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty’?”

If it does, sing it loud.

If it doesn’t, toss it out.

The medium will keep changing because the mission hasn’t: form a people in love with Jesus, week after week, refrain after refrain, until the day the repetition ends and the sight begins.

“Holy, holy, holy…”—we’ll never get tired of saying that. (Heaven doesn’t.)

P.S. -

You ever catch a sunrise that stops you mid-sentence? One of those “I can’t believe the world gets to look like this” moments?

You feel awe. Joy. Maybe tears. Is that manipulation? Or is that just your soul reacting the way it was designed to?

When beauty stirs something in you, that’s divine design at work.

So why do we treat it differently in worship? If a painting, a sunset, or a song points your heart to the Creator—it’s doing its job.

God made light. God made sound. God made harmony, rhythm, color, contrast, and emotion. Those things aren’t distractions, they’re invitations.

Art doesn’t compete with theology. It reveals it.

And when it’s done right—when it’s centered on God—it reminds us of something sacred: the beauty that He planted in us, the image of Himself reflected in creativity.

1. https://www.earlyamericansacredmusic.org/static/media/REGULAR%20SINGING%2C%20OLD%20WAY%20OF%20SINGING.5021f968b278ab6df960.pdf

2. https://www.britannica.com/topic/gospel-music

3. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Isaac-Watts

4. https://christianhistoryinstitute.org/magazine/article/americas-hesitation-over-hymns

5. https://www.colonialsociety.org/node/2038

6. https://www.thebluebanner.com/pdf/bluebanner3-1-2.pdf

7. https://www.reformedworship.org/resource/highs-and-lows-singing

8. https://www.psy.lmu.de/allg2/download/audriemmo/ws1011/mere_exposure_effect.pdf

9. https://www.britannica.com/topic/gospel-music?utm_source=chatgpt.com

10. https://faithalone.org/journal-articles/a-discussion-of-the-gospel-hymn-part-1/?utm_source=chatgpt.com

11. https://www.ccel.org/ccel/edwards/affections.iii.html

12. https://www.durham.ac.uk/research/current/thought-leadership/2023/08/the-science-of-why-you-can-remember-song-lyrics-from-years-ago

13. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Jesus-prayer

14. https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/debunking-the-drinking-song-myth-a-mighty-fortress

15. https://hymnary.org/person/Ambrose

16. A “stone of help” that Samuel placed at the battlefield where the Israelites defeated the Philistines. Samuel set up the stone to serve as a reminder that God’s divine hand was at work and helping them.

17. https://www.etymonline.com/word/cult

18. https://christianscholars.com/desiring-the-kingdom-worship-worldview-and-cultural-formation-by-james-k-a-smith