Worship Leaders, Let's Learn from Disney's new movie

I was skeptical.

Even though several people I love and trust said good things about Disney/Pixar's new film "Inside Out," I went into the theater looking for hidden agendas and sociocultural steering. (I know, I'm so weird!)

But I experienced an absolutely delightful, fun, and insightful movie.

And then, as I took time to reflect on the themes of the writers, several things I believe worship leaders should pay attention to emerged.

Without creating a "spoiler alert" I can tell you the moviegoer learns about 5 primary emotions and how they interact inside of head-quarters: joy, sadness, fear, disgust and anger each try to take over the role of "primary" in the life of young Riley.

Joy keeps trying to change the other emotions. She suppresses them. She even ignores them. It's as if she believes joy is the only valid, valued option. Don't get me wrong, she does all of this with joy. It's the only way she can be.

Few emotions are as helpful as fear... as long as we fear the right things. Riley needed to be afraid at times. It was when she feared the wrong things that her other emotions needed to kick in. As with all emotions, fear can take over and become crippling. But fear can also preserve our life. Biblically speaking, fear of God is commanded. When we minimize fear, we risk losing an essential part of who we are. What does this have to do with worship? Simple, actually. If we shouldn't suppress fear in life, we shouldn't suppress it in worship either. If people are afraid but we "play pretend" in church by ignoring that powerful emotion, we make it impossible to help our folks love God with all of who they are. How can we obey God's frequent command to be strong and courageous if we pretend not to struggle with fear?

Few emotions are as avoided as sadness...especially in American church culture. I wonder if this is part of the reason we have so many depressed people in our churches. I know the issue is far more complex than this, but perhaps by not giving expression to sadness we actually create a depressed culture. I'm way out of my league here, but let me come back by saying it is imperative that we allow people to feel sadness in our services. In fact, that's one of the reasons I'm convinced Matt and Beth Redman's song "Blessed Be Your Name" has been so popular in the modern church. It is honest about things like "being found in the desert place."

Few emotions are as neglected as disgust. At least when it comes to what I might call righteous disgust. Oh, we comfortably express disgust by our judgment of those far from God. That emotion is emboldened in pulpit after pulpit and pew after pew. But we fail to express disgust at our real enemy. Or at our own sin. We somehow leave out disgust for the sin inside of the church in favor of feeling disgust at the sin outside the church. Brothers and sisters, this simply cannot be. Apart from providing a time for confession, I have no clue how to integrate this into worship, but I imagine some of my song-writing and script-writing friends could help us here.

Few emotions are out of balance as much as anger. But we need to acknowledge that even anger has a place in our faith. Jesus Himself said "In your anger, do not sin." (Ephesians 4:26) Notice He did not say "In your emotions, be not angry." In the Biblical record, Jesus got angry several times. I believe He was angry at things like addiction, oppression, and favoritism. There is no doubt He was angry at those who hijacked the faith for selfish purposes. He expressed anger at those more concerned with religious practice than with a pure heart.

And, I'm increasingly convinced, few emotions are as essential to worship as authentic joy. I wish I didn't have to use a qualifier, but pretend joy has become prevalent. It is powerless. Indeed, it is counter to our mission. (Inauthenticity always is.) But the joy of the Lord is strength. And the church desperately needs strength. Christian worship should be characterized by joy. I love the way Walter B Knight put it: "Joy is the flag that flies over the castle of our hearts announcing that the King is in residence today."

So what can we learn from "Inside Out"?

Minor spoiler alert: when the emotions all take their proper place, life becomes full for Riley.

So let's learn to be honest in worship, to give time and space to our church families to express their full range of emotions. And to learn that we were made in the image of a mighty God, Who created fear to protect us, sadness to release us, disgust at sin--all sin, anger toward injustice, and joy to strengthen us.

And then maybe, just maybe, we will learn to worship with all of our heart.

A Tribute

We met one of the first Sundays I was at Woodburn Baptist Church. I remember her approach to me as strong, gracious, and friendly. She spoke quickly and purposefully, telling me she was in her late 80s, very much missed her days of playing piano in church, and started playing long before I was born. I think I remember she said she had played in churches for more than 70 years.

Amazing.

One of her first post-worship-service comments was to express her appreciation of the way I helped make many of her favorite hymns come alive, specifically ensuring they would connect with younger generations. There was no doubt about her bias: she loved old hymns. No doubt she played more hymns than I’ve ever heard—and I have a master’s degree in church music. 

Don’t be misled, her passion was not gentile. It was fiery. She loved hymns. She wanted to know if I loved hymns. And she wanted to make sure that I continually pointed people to our heritage of faith through hymns.

But let me quickly add that she was mature enough to understand that, as our pastor often says, every church is only one generation from being extinct. And so she was open to “the new music.” She didn’t always like it, but she assured me it was okay that she didn’t like it. “It isn’t just about me,” she would say.

Amazing.

But as I ponder on why I loved Kathryn Jarboe so much and so quickly, I think this is her legacy to me: she loved me regardless of the music on a given Sunday. She was for me even when she was against a song choice. (She wasn’t real fond of the Casting Crowns remake of “Glorious Day” and told me plainly.)

She compelled me toward thoughtfulness, excellence, and consideration.

Oh, how I long to be that way a few decades from now.

I want to compel younger worship leaders—even when they are old enough to have grandchildren—toward thoughtfulness, excellence and consideration.

Thoughtful in terms of song choice, based on Biblical strength, poetic beauty, and lyrical substance.

Excellent in terms of crafting music and technology. She would remind me that God deserves the best we can muster, not the best we feel like mustering at the moment. The reason she wasn’t fond of the newer “Glorious Day” was because the melody was flat and boring, not near as singable and expressive as the one she knew. That level of excellence. 

And considerate in terms of all 4 or 5 generations present in the room in any given worship gathering. Considerate of the hearing issues that face our oldest adults. Considerate of the desire for passion among our younger adults. Considerate of ways to connect generations.

And above all these, love. She really did love me. And I really did love her.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget our last visit in the hospital. We were both at peace with the fact that she was in her last days. I asked her what she thought the music would be like in heaven. She responded with a joke. We both belly-laughed. I pondered with her about what it would be like to be reunited with her husband. We talked about the things she was learning about Jesus in these finals weeks of her life.

There’s something amazing about a senior saint being ready to go, anticipating heaven. Her time on earth was winding down. She had raised extraordinarily Godly children. She had fought the good fight. She had loved well.

I asked her what she’d like me to tell the church when we gathered to pray that night. She requested they know she was at peace and ready to go to Jesus.

Then she asked me to sing.

Through the tears—mine and hers—I sang:

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll.

The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

It is well with my soul,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

Her faith is now sight.

Hallelujah!

Critical or Constructive?

Constructive thinking and behavior can build an amazing team.

Critical thinking and behavior can be utterly destructive.

The line between them is sometimes as fine as a frog's hair.

This struck me unexpectedly in a recent rehearsal. I was thinking about someone I used to work with (not on our team at WBC, if you're wondering) who seemed to be able to find a way to criticize everything.

And everyone.

We loved that person anyway, but it sure was hard.

When I think of the countless mentors I've had--in a variety of settings--I remember them as geniuses at analyzing, correcting, instructing, and building, but they were seldom if ever critical. They were always constructive. Building. They built songs, concerts, services, programs.

More than that, they built people.

So I started pondering the difference.

Here are some key differences I've noticed:

Critical                                           Constructive

negative                                          realistic

harsh                                               honest

angry tone                                       gentle tone

depressing                                      inspiring

sad face                                          happy face

off-putting                                       attractional 

defeating                                         victory seeking
value product over people              value people over product
tear down                                        build up

I've decided that I don't want to be critical. I have to be constructive.

And there's something in the scriptures I've been challenged by for years now. I'm not sure exactly how, but I think it speaks into this dynamic:

"Do everything without complaining and arguing,

so that no one can criticize you.

Live clean, innocent lives as children of God,

shining like bright lights in a world

full of crooked and perverse people."

(Phil 2:14-15)

Maybe in a world (and sometimes, in a church-world) of critical people, those who are constructive really do shine like bright lights.

Maybe the more we look like Jesus, the less we complain or argue. Do you remember what comes before these verses in Philippians 2?

Verse 5 says, "You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had."

Oh sure, Paul. No problem. How do we do THAT?

I imagine he anticipated the question, thus the words that follow:

Though [Jesus] was God,
   he did not think of equality with God
   as something to cling to.
Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;
   he took the humble position of a slave
   and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form,
   he humbled himself in obedience to God
   and died a criminal's death on a cross.
Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor
   and gave him the name above all other names,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow
   in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue declare that Jesus Christ is Lord,
   to the glory of God the Father.

So when I lay my life out next to that passage, I see the most flaws when I ask questions like these:
a) Do I lead like I'm in charge, basically taking over the role of my Sovereign Savior?
b) Do I cling to status? Am I spending energy trying to get others to think highly of me?
c) Am I quick to give up privileges like Jesus was?
d) Am I okay with other people treating me like their slave? 
e) Do I humble myself in obedience? No, really? Every day?
f) Who am I elevating? Me or Jesus?
g) In the deep places of my soul, do I want people to bend their knee to me or to the Father?

I guess when I try to connect all these dots, I realize that the less I look like Jesus, the more critical I become. Those times I look increasingly like Jesus, the more constructive I am.

Nobody built people better than Jesus.