On worship and fog machines

I was surprised when a young friend told me the other day that most of his friends attended churches that use fog machines. So clearly it’s a trend.

I admit I have never been in a church service where a fog machine was used. So maybe I’m not qualified to speak on the subject. But I’m going to anyway.

I have always felt that we need to cater our music to the generations that are closer to birth than to death. That would be the people who are actually going to be alive when I am dead. They are the church’s future.

But when it comes to worship, let’s make a difference between what really matters and what doesn’t. What matters, for instance, are the words we sing. They say a lot about what we believe. There was a reason the Scots sang the Psalms, and only the Psalms. There was no doubt about the content.

So I ask the question: should not the songs we sing be every bit as rooted and grounded in Scripture as the teaching we hear?

I could make a sad joke about being in churches where most of the fog emanated from the pulpit, but for the moment I assume that most of us are in churches where the teaching is decent and Biblically grounded.

One thing I’ve noticed is that most of the arguments over worship are not about the lyrics but about the music. Music, for the most part, is a matter of taste. Taste is what changes, and that’s where we have to cater to the younger half of the congregation if we want a church capable of reaching the next generation.

And is this is a source of frustration to me. We argue over the things that matter far less -- we argue over style of music, how loud the music is, what kind of instruments we should allow, and so on. But we pass over the far more significant issue of what it is we are actually singing.

The Scots used to sing without accompaniment. There were loads of arguments over scandalous things like using an organ in worship. When I was a young Christian, people left churches when somebody dared to appear on the platform with a guitar. Never mind that the church was filling up with young people and the songs we were singing were largely Scripture put to music.

So where does that leave us with fog machines?

I admit I’m not a fan. For one thing, they seem to be a poor substitute for the cloud that filled Solomon’s temple. But let’s face it, they are part of the periphery, not part of the core.

What is a real problem is if the fog machines represent an attempt to dumb down worship and to make its focus more on making people feel a particular atmosphere rather than leading those people into glorifying the one true God.

Having said that, I would rather be in a congregation with a fog machine singing songs with Biblical lyrics and glorifying God than in a congregation with neither a fog machine nor any sense of what true worship is supposed to be.

At its root, worship is clearly defined by Paul: “Present yourselves as a sacrifice, living, holy and acceptable to God, which is worship, properly understood.” That is my translation of Romans 12:1, and it’s backed by some pretty good scholars.

If you have the foundation right, you’ll get the rest of it as well, with or without a fog machine.

But I’d still like to witness that manifest glory that Solomon saw…

Experiencing the presence of God

Is it somehow wrong or unspiritual to want to experience the presence of God?

All sorts of arguments rage over this question. And especially in relation to worship.

Are churches too experiential? Or not experiential enough? People are leaving churches today for both reasons, so it’s a significant question that demands an answer.

Let’s establish one fact first. The presence of God is not an experience to be sought or argued about. It is a theological and Biblical fact.

And a fact with several aspects or levels to it.

First of all, God is omnipresent. He is everywhere. That doesn’t mean he’s in everything, just that his presence as Creator of the universe cannot be limited to one place. He is capable of being present anywhere at any time. He is present, for instance, in every Christian by the person of his Spirit. In this sense, you don’t have to seek his presence. You have his presence.

Second, God is very often present in an intensified way when we pray and seek him, or when we are gathered together corporately in worship. How often have we felt his peace or his joy in personal or corporate worship? The Bible says he dwells in the praises of his people.

Third, God is sometimes present in a manifest sense. These are times when the awareness of his presence can touch or even overwhelm our physical senses. Think of Moses or Elijah in the cleft of the rock on Mount Sinai. Think of the priests unable to stand at the opening of Solomon’s temple. Think of Ezekiel “lifted up by the Spirit between earth and heaven.” Think of the soldiers thrown to the ground as they came to arrest Jesus. Think of the believers at Pentecost, appearing outwardly drunk due to the power of the Spirit. Think of Paul thrown off his horse by the presence of God. Think of Philip transported miraculously from one place to another. Think of the building in Jerusalem shaking when the believers were praying, or the jail bonds burst asunder by the earthquake at Philippi. Think of Paul caught up to the third heaven.

And think of the congregations addressed by John Wesley and Jonathan Edwards, where men and women were reduced to tears and crying out to God in repentance. Think of the Scottish highlanders on Lewis and Harris, sprawled in the fields in intense conviction of sin. Every revival has similar stories, differing only in detail.

Why then do we argue over whether it is unspiritual to seek the presence of God? When I first met my wife, I wanted to be in her presence. I felt something tangible. It was (and is!) special. Why on earth would I not want to be in God’s presence? God’s presence is nothing more nor less than God himself. Do we not want to seek God?

I think the whole argument against seeking experiences is based on a misconception. The misconception is that those people seeking the presence of God in a tangible way are looking for an emotional experience. Our faith is based on Biblical truth, not emotion, the argument goes (and so far quite rightly), so we should not need those kind of experiences, and certainly should not depend on them. And it is true that we should not be seeking God for emotional experiences.

But here’s the mistake. We do not encounter the presence of God with our emotions. But we do encounter the presence of God in a way that affects our emotions.

We encounter God’s presence when the Holy Spirit invades our spirit with his power and reality. Our spirit is the deepest part of us, that place where his Spirit comes to dwell, from which he begins to establish lordship over our emotions, our intellect and our body.

God is always present in our spirit by his Spirit: that is his omnipresence. His presence is often felt in a tangible way when it is intensified in prayer and worship. And his presence may be felt in a manifest way in times of special power and revival.

God is present: that’s a fact. And that’s what our faith is built on. But if he chooses to come in an intensified or even manifest form, it is for a kingdom purpose. It’s not so that you can be emotionally overcome, but that you can be spiritually empowered.

I advise you to seek as much of God’s presence in your life as you feel you need to do his will.

And as for me... I’ll take as much as I can get. Because his call on my life requires it.

And his call on your life requires it too.

The problem of truth

Truth is not a problem.

But that is the problem.

“You’re talking in riddles, David.” I can hear you saying it!

Let me try to explain.

When Jesus encountered the value system that had the power to set him free, it all boiled down to an issue of truth.

Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea, was interested in power. And so he posed the question to Jesus: “Are you the king of the Jews?” What he meant, of course, was this: “Are you planning an uprising against me?”

Jesus wasn’t even thinking along these lines. And so he told Pilate his kingdom was not of this world. If it had been, his followers would already have been fighting in the streets.

This puzzled Pilate. And so he put the question to Jesus: “So you are a king?” Jesus didn’t bother to dignify Pilate’s question with an answer, which was extraordinary, given that his life apparently hung in Pilate’s hands.

His answer was this: “You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world - to bear witness to the truth.”

Pilate’s answer, to me, is one of the greatest attestations to the accuracy of the New Testament. He said this: “What is truth?”

Pilate was reflecting the beginnings of the decline of Roman civilization. He had given up on truth. And we know that’s an accurate picture of where many of the Romans were at - and certainly cynical, disillusioned and corrupt politicians like Pilate, which is the picture Roman historians paint of him.

We live in a very similar world today.

For Jesus, and hence for those of us who follow him, truth is not a problem. God alone reserves the right to define truth and falsehood, right and wrong, good and evil.

But we live in a world Pontius Pilate would have been right at home in. Laughingly, we call it “post-modern,” when in fact it is as ancient as Pilate himself.

Pilate was bothered by Jesus’ answer - but not bothered enough to take a stand against the Jewish leaders and let him go. For him, truth did not matter. And that is why when he saw the personal embodiment of truth standing in front of him, he did not recognize it.

For the world we live in, truth is a problem. In fact, a massive problem.

Our culture demands that every possible personal preference or orientation be accommodated. Everyone lives in their own personal space as far as truth is concerned. In reality, no one is really interested in truth at all. What they are really interested in is the promotion of their own interests.

Here’s the catch. In the absence of truth, anything goes. But what happens when the interests of one group are hostile to the interests of another?

I’ll tell you exactly what happens. The group with the most power forces its interests on the others.

In the absence of truth, might becomes right.

Those with the most clout gain privilege at the expense of those with the least.

But Christians see things differently. Or at least they ought to.

Our world is living in a mass delusion. The delusion is this: everyone can have their own “truth,” and it won’t cause any problems. The reality is different. The “truth” belonging to the people with the most power will prevail.

In truth, it isn’t about truth at all. It’s about the power to force my views on everyone else.

But as Christians, we believe in real truth. We are interested in truth for the sake of truth, because we follow the man who said: “You shall know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”

We believe only God has the right to define truth. And Jesus is the only man who ever completely lived it.

That is a problem to the world around us, with its many interest groups trying to force their views on everyone else, to their own benefit.

Jesus stood for truth, and he died for truth.

How about you?