A good bit of my chewing, of course, was over what that had to do with me. But the Church has been the backdrop of it all. I have come to a sad and grave concern about the drifting body of Christ. Over the past three months I have worshipped with rock bands belting out lively choruses, a mellow trio crooning warm tunes, organs leading traditional hymns and yes, even a bluegrass band strumming old favorites. What I have learned is that music is not the issue.
Music is a matter of taste.
The world will never come to a consensus on a single musical preference. As it always is, I suspect, the issue is less about style than substance. It has to do with what is being said through what is being done. Among the churches I visited, and among the churches of which I am aware, that center of gravity is found all over the map, and only in a few of them was it low enough to provide any real grounding in the face of ever-changing cultural winds. I repeatedly asked myself on the drive home from all those worship services.