A Legendary Experience

Tonight I made good on an adventure I've been planning for some time now. There are a good deal of those whom I associate with that would not be nearly so daring. I accepted an invitation to venture out to the suburb of Arlington Heights for a special event.

A hymn sing. A real hymn sing. Not just an old Gospel favorite or two placed in the midst of a worship service, but a full 100+ minutes of singing the classics and near classics handed down through the annals of time. Or at least over the last hundred years or so. I have heard of such events. The stories of such momentous occasions have fluttered upon my eardrums more times than my memory can account for.

Over the course of three years spent overseeing our senior adults ministry, I have heard many glowing reports on the hymn sings found in past decades and even today ... in other churches. However at our church, we have chosen to use our Sunday evenings (officially the most appropriate time for such activities) for other things. For something we call an Encounter Gathering. Indeed even on Sunday mornings when we hold our primary services, they resemble nothing close to a hymn sing. Now I will readily admit that those of the matured generation have been very supportive of our more "youthful" approach to community worship. But on occasion, our seniors hear of other larger and more "traditional" congregations putting on such singing extravaganzas, and, in such cases, follow their preferences to the host of their worshiping ideals. It is not my intention to ever present this as a bad thing. I'm sure I would do the same if I found myself in a church culture where my music-and-singing-choice and all-that-I-had-known-for-most-of-my-life had become increasingly obsolete. I would readily join them in an evening oasis of heartfelt worship. On top of all this, our senior adults are, as I said, very supportive of everything our church does and the decisions our leadership has made.

But at the same time, their hearts are for the hymns. And so it seemed that the very week I began pastoring this group of roughly a hundred grey haired saints, that the reports began streaming in concerning the rather glorious nature of such gatherings. And as each report came in, I picked up somewhat of an almost legendary status that was attributed to each hymn sing. Eyes opened wide. Smiles so shining they overcame the entire face. Eagerly, the storyteller would recite the name of the guest soloist, the time period reserved for piano prelude, the overwhelming number of hymns that were sang. Stories of ensembles and choirs. Of respect and reverence. Of tradition and that which is familiar. Of lyrics supplied by a book rather than a powerpoint. And of a setting where every line of every song is known by heart. These reports note the absence of the ominous "7-11 choruses" popularized in the '80s. And they almost inevitably lament the days when every church service knew only hymns.

So I finally went. I've been planning on it for three years now, looking for a free Sunday evening in which to go and taste the glory. I love my seniors, and despite the vast cultural differences between myself and them, I have genuinely looked forward to finding the opportunity and taking it. I have even found myself excited. Excited by the thought of going and spending nearly two hours in song. And also excited to learn. To experience the legend first hand.

I found a maximized auditorium that I would guess sat around five to seven hundred people. And despite all expectations, when I walked in I was taken aback by the endless sea of grey and white hair. Somehow I expected that at least ... maybe ten percent of the congregants would be under 60. But this was definitely not the case. When I arrived (ten minutes early) only the back corner was still available for seating, and there were about five families that eventually slid in after me. The parents were in their 40s, and the children were young. But as I walked around and studied the rest of the auditorium, the remainder was all on Social Security.

The hymns and "special music" numbers were all about what I expected. Though I did think that the reported time-frame was one of the legendary and exaggerated elements: of 1 1/2 to 2 hours of nothing but singing and listening to others sing. I was surprised to find it not the case. The sing really did go for 105 minutes. And I must admit that closing on about 85 minutes, I was sick of singing. Yes, even though I was singing to God. I began checking my watch every two or three minutes. But that said, I was glad I went and am thankful for the experience.

I left with two primary impressions. To begin, I feel like I had experienced a prized component of this generation's spirituality. As a pastor I feel like this is valuable experience that will inform how I understand their needs as I lead them in following Jesus. I feel like it is my responsibility as a pastor of a generationally diverse group to create a venue for them to fully express their hearts in worship. According to their natural and heartfelt culture.

Secondly, I see more than ever the difficulty of worship in a setting that is not your own. As I sat there, I felt more and more frustrated with this style of celebration. I longed more and more for that which is natural to me. And I realize that this is the case for seniors as they are forced to sit in worship gatherings that are fully oriented toward younger people. Maybe to an even greater degree. I see all over again, in a whole new light, the difficulty this generation faces in trying to worship alongside those that consider them irrelevant.

I am trying to wrestle anew with how I as a pastor am held responsible to create venues for all elements of the congregation, where each person has a place to turn to express the fullness of their hearts in worship. I've thought on this in the past, and I'm thinking about this more again now. I don't claim to have any answers. I'm not bold or enlightened enough for that. But I do have ambition enough to try. And I certainly feel at least a little responsibility.

I would love to hear back from any who have a thought or two along this line. I heartily welcome your comments. Would love for you to post your feedback.

What does worship look like in the local church where a diverse group of people meet together? How do old and young, black and white, rich and poor come together and worship with their hearts and in a way that is culturally relevant? What does this look like? Is it a blend of ancient hymns and '80s choruses? Of Gaither and Crowder? Of urban Gospel and Reformation marches? In Spanish and English and Korean languages? I've kind of looked to such a blend as the ideal.

I'm just not sure that ideal is realistic.