Room Noise

Those who sat in darkness and in the shadow of death,
Bound in affliction and irons—
Because they rebelled against the words of God,
And despised the counsel of the Most High,
Therefore He brought down their heart with labor;
They fell down, and there was none to help.

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
And He saved them out of their distresses.
He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death,
And broke their chains in pieces.

Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness,
And for His wonderful works to the children of men!
For He has broken the gates of bronze,
And cut the bars of iron in two.
—Psalm 107:10-16

I just returned from church. I go to a large denominational church that offers a contemporary service as well as a traditional one. Even though my age plants me solidly in the average of the traditional worshipers, I prefer the contemporary. I like being surrounded by younger people, with their energy and passion.

But I don't love the music portion of either service. Musically, they are acceptable — both utilize sincere, talented musicians who seem to take their preparation seriously. It's not the music — or even the song selection — that leaves me dissatisfied. It's what is behind the music.

I wonder if someone on the team attended a powerful, life-changing service somewhere else, and is trying to emulate that experience here?

The image I imagine from week to week is the difference between singing along with the radio, or being the radio. What I sense is a group who is good when singing along, but now, they are the radio. But they don't sing any differently. There is no real passion. No spontaneous energy.

The songs don't "live." They simply exist. What I mean is: When the author wrote the song — with verses, chorus, bridge, and maybe even a break — it was because something had come alive in them. The chorus simply flowed from the verse. The bridge exploded — because it could no longer be contained. The break was the result of a thought that could no longer be held in. The entire piece was a living thing — with breath — the energy rose and fell within the revelation of the expression being released. I see the songwriter falling back in his chair when he is finished — out of breath — relieved to have gotten it on paper.

When he recorded it, it once again came alive as he recalled the labor that accompanied the birth.

We hear that when we listened to the recording. We are moved because he was moved.

So we decide to use the song in our corporate service. But when we sing it, we don't remember the birth pains. We weren't there. We only know that we are moved when we hear the song on the radio. So we hope our listeners will be moved as well.

If our musicianship is up to par, we can create an emotional experience. But that's not the same thing.

I believe the thing that is missing is in our text. That cry: Oh, that men would give thanks to the LORD for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!

That explosion of energy is the result of remembering verses 10-14. It is an awareness of the troubles that have been the result of our rebellion and neglect of God's Word. It's remembering the loneliness of our lives when His presence seemed distant. Then remembering how quickly He responded when we came to Him in confession and repentance.

But remembering is difficult when we crowd our environment with the noise of music, entertainment, and social media. We've lost touch with our sinful tendencies, and the pain they cause.

We cover the pain those memories produce with room noise.

Then when we enter a worship environment — chatting it up with our friends — we are detached from our desperate need for an Almighty, overcoming, Creator God. And we are satisfied with a quiet, smooth, predictable service. Just more room noise.

If we could reconnect with our infinite need for a Savior and Deliverer, our singing would change.

Those who sat in darkness and in the shadow of death, is us. All of us. We have all rebelled against the words of God.

And the separation we sensed was our choice!

But thank God, that when we cried out to the LORD in [our] trouble, He didn't hesitate to hear and rescue.

I believe that if we could stay within reach of our complete need for Him, as well as our memory of His deliverance, no room would be able to contain our shout.