Resources by John D. Witvliet

Q I have a high view of Scripture. Thus I am sympathetic to the idea that all the psalms are fitting for worship. Yet any time one of the truly angry psalms of protest is suggested for worship, our team rejects the idea. Wouldn’t expressing our anger in worship be better than repressing it? A To answer this we need to understand each psalm in its larger scriptural context as well as the nature of emotions, particularly anger. Understanding in Light of the Rest of Scripture I share with you a high view of Scripture and affirm that all Scripture “is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). I am convinced that the psalms of anger, bitterness, and protest have much to teach us, and that—as with every other type of text—we need to understand them in light of the rest of Scripture. As we do that, we gain insight about their place in worship. What we find, for example, is that not every psalm is fitting for use in worship as our own prayer, whether sung or spoken. It is incongruous to pray the imprecatory psalms (those that curse the enemy) after hearing Jesus command us to pray for our enemies. It is more promising to notice the ways in which psalms of protest and imprecation relinquish revenge, entrusting the execution of justice to God (Romans 12:19–20). Without setting these protest psalms inside a robust trinitarian theological context, they can be terribly misused to promote violence. This careful exegetical work needs to be done with all Scripture that is being employed in worship lest we bend Scripture for our own uses. The Nature of Emotion Even after we have this theological context firmly in place, there are still additional questions to explore, especially related to common assumptions we bring to the text about the nature of emotions. Minimize or Repress First, many assume that all anger and bitterness is bad, or something we need to get over or minimize so we can live a happy life. This stands in contrast with many biblical texts that depict righteous anger as a fitting response to injustice and acts of violence. Resolute, righteous anger is a sanctified response to evil in a fallen world—following Paul’s advice to “be angry but do not sin” (Ephesians 4:26a, NRSV). Second, it’s common in some cultural contexts to assume that all anger is fickle, capricious, and unmanageable. True, many expressions of anger in this world are tragically capricious, featuring flare-ups of sudden, surging rage. That’s why Paul’s advice is wise to “not let the sun go down on your anger” (Ephesians 4:26b, NRSV). In contrast, God is slow to anger, suggesting constancy in opposition to injustice. Capricious, abusive flare-ups of anger must be firmly denounced. Constant, resolute vigilance against injustice should be affirmed—and can be strengthened by the psalms of protest. These two reasons lead many of us to avoid naming or dealing with anger, resentment, and bitterness at all in our lives and in our worship. Repressing all this can, as you suggest, become a significant problem, leaving us unable to deal with our resentments in a healthy way. Let Go and Vent But our efforts to deal well with anger can also go wrong, especially when we operate uncritically with a cathartic view of emotion—the idea that we can purge ourselves of a negative emotion by expressing it. This idea is often expressed with hydraulic metaphors, such as “letting off steam,” or “venting anger,” or “boiling over with rage,” or “bottled-up fury”—all expressions that picture the body as a holding tank or a set of pipes ready to burst, in need of an outlet for our negative emotions. A cathartic view of emotion is sometimes used to defend the value of violent video games and movies. It’s behind the idea that if we just let out a primal scream, we will feel better afterward. Strikingly, this view is often used (at least informally) to explain psalms of anger and protest. For example, someone might say, “I love how the Bible encourages us to vent our anger” or, “Those anger psalms are challenging, but I guess they really do show us how to unload our bitterness.” Note that the Bible itself doesn’t directly affirm or reject this cathartic view of emotion. We’ve absorbed this view of emotion from the culture around us and simply assume it to be true. One gift of recent psychological research is the insight that simply expressing a negative emotion does not get rid of it. Just the opposite, in fact: expressing anger can strengthen our “anger muscles” by fanning the flames of our fury rather than quieting them. This is similar to how learning to express gratitude can, over time, help us build “gratitude muscles,” forming us to become more grateful people. Reframing the Conversation Fortunately, engaging the psalms of protest constructively does not require that we hold a cathartic view of emotion. The psalms of protest—each in their own way—do not just vent anger. They also redirect it, guide it down unexpected pathways, and frame it in terms of arresting images and metaphors. Some psalms of protest and anger are notable because they do not simply express anger or disappointment, but relinquish it, entrusting the pain or source of bitterness to God. When Psalm 94 prays, “Pay back to the proud what they deserve,” the assumption is that God alone can bring about justice. Some psalms of lament take us on a journey from bitterness toward something quite different. Psalm 13 starts with what could be either bitterness or disappointment, but then turns that into a prayer and eventually into a vow to praise God. Psalm 88, the bleakest of all psalms, expresses utter despair, but still attaches that despair to an opening statement of trust: “Lord, you are the God who saves me.” Rather than introducing a psalm of protest as an act of catharsis, introduce it as a text that within a larger biblical context has something to teach us about resisting evil. This approach avoids the two unhelpful extremes of pure repression and pure catharsis. For congregations that rarely or never deal with these texts in worship, consider these steps as a place to start: Introduce the psalm by saying, “As we hear now these words of protest and anger, call to mind all the people around us and among us who are living with these emotions today.” Then read or recite the psalm. Then offer a prayer that names particular sources of injustice, violence, pain, and bitterness in the world around us. Conclude with a reading of Hebrews 4:14–16 or a similar passage that speaks about Jesus’ own identification with the travails of the world and assures the congregation of Jesus’ own present-day ministry of intercession. One last note: responding faithfully to the psalms of protest and anger is a particularly challenging pastoral act. It’s best when this is done well in community rather than by a solitary leader. It’s worth taking time to pray and learn together with your team as you continue to explore this topic.

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Q: How should we approach Advent in a year of pandemic and racial strife?A: Let me begin by noting my primary concern: that churches will settle for an Advent season that is too small and too sentimental. It’s so tempting to reach for the spiritual comfort food of warm carols and soft candlelight in ways that detach them from the source of true strength and comfort and fullness of the gospel.So yes, let it be an Advent of comfort. Let us cherish how our coming Lord arrives as the sun “with healing in its wings.”Let it also be a season for proclaiming jubilee, the way in which the past and future comings of Christ upend violence, injustice, and all that is opposed to God’s shalom, a coming in which the poor and lowly are raised up and the mighty are taken down from their presumptuous positions of power.As you plan, try thinking of these two themes as if they are two kinds of light (warm light and cool light) or two textures (soft fabric and rough fabric) or two palettes of color (one that is soft and warm, one that is bright and vibrant).Less Familiar Advent Songs of Justice, Righteousness, and Shalom to Consider“My Soul Cries Out with a Joyful Shout / Canticle of the Turning” Conney“Toda la tierra / All Earth Is Waiting” Taulé“Hark, the Glad Sound! The Savior Comes” Doddridge“O Shepherd, Hear and Lead Your Flock” Morgan“LORD, You Have Lavished on Your Land” Post“Least of These/Put a Little Love in Your Heart” DeShannon, Holiday, Houghton, Myers“Light of the World” Daigle, Maybury“Emmanuel (Every Promise Yes in Him)” Cobb“How Long?” Bifrost Arts, Wardell“Refugee King/Away in a Manger” Benedict, Reagan, Ruth, Scheer, Vice“Someday Soon” Mohr“God Will Heal Our Wounds” Common Hymnal, Reagan, Strumpel, Wilson“The King is Coming” Common Hymnal, Duncan, Macaulay, QuilalaThen think about how texts and songs—and the particular melodies and rhythms of a given arrangement—fall into those two categories. “Silent Night,” Mohr sung quietly accompanied by an acoustic guitar, is “warm” and “soft,” as is pretty much every arrangement of “Away in a Manger.” Public Domain “My Soul Cries Out with a Joyful Shout / Canticle of the Turning,” Cooney sung to the rugged tune “Star of County Down,” is more “cool,” “rough,” and “bright,” especially with a text like this:Let the king bewarefor your justice tearsevery tyrant from his throne.The hungry poorshall weep no morefor the food they can never earn;there are tables spread,every mouth be fed,for the world is about to turn.—Rory Cooney, “Canticle of the Turning,” based on the Magnificat, © 1990 GIA Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.Try starting your planning by categorizing the twenty or so Advent songs your church already loves to sing. I am not going far out on a limb to suggest that most churches will have more songs in the “warm and soft” category.Then, accept the discipline of insisting that each service have both kinds of texts and songs. Jesus comes with comfort for the brokenhearted and with justice for the oppressed.Once you start looking at the Bible and at your song list with these lenses in place, you’ll notice striking juxtapositions in many places. In Psalm 103, for example, we praise a God who not only “heals all your diseases,” (v. 3) but also “works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed” (v. 6).This in turn shapes how we define and use many key terms in our theological and pastoral vocabulary. The term “peace,” or “shalom,” as sung by the angels to shepherds, refers to at least two quite different dimensions of goodness: one with a scope as vast as the cosmos, and one that is as intimate as our own interior lives, often hidden from everyone but God. “Shalom” means rightly ordered relationships in society, culture, and creation as well as inner tranquility. The gospel of peace comes with healing both for neighborhoods that are racked with violence and for hearts that are filled with turmoil.Occasionally, remarkable music weaves both dimensions tightly together. Felix Mendelssohn’s Advent anthem “There Shall a Star Come Out of Jacob” begins and ends warmly and softly, but its middle section is filled with cool, fierce, dramatic acclamation of a Lord who comes “with might destroying” the forces of evil.By all means, let us sing warm carols by candlelight, cherishing our loved ones and basking in the glow of any tranquility the Holy Spirit graces us with. How much deeper that sense of peace will be if we also resist the powerful temptation to ignore Advent’s fiercely prophetic elements oriented around justice, righteousness, and cultural shalom.

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Q We have discovered that some of the songs we love come from churches, organizations, and songwriters with major doctrinal differences from our congregation. Some come from people whose public witness has been significantly compromised in some way. Some people in our church think we should not sing these songs. What do you think? A My first thoughts drift back to my early memories of the hymn “In the Cross of Christ I Glory.” In the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, churches across the theological spectrum, including very theologically conservative churches, sang its mystical lyrics: “In the cross of Christ I glory,  towering o’er the wrecks of time; all the light of sacred story gathers round its head sublime,” and “Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure, by the cross are sanctified; peace is there that knows no measure, joys that through all time abide.” While the language may seem a bit dated today, it’s a gutsy move to confess that our experiences of bane and blessing are both sanctified through the cross. Years later, I was surprised to learn that the committee preparing the 1934 Psalter Hymnal voted against including this hymn. They resisted it for one reason: it had been written by John Bowring, a Unitarian. Awareness of that history faded over time, and the hymn was included in the Psalter Hymnals of 1957 and 1987, accepted as a hymn that was consistent with the Reformed confessions. There are hundreds of fascinating stories like this in the history of the church. Overall, it’s crucial that we not preclude singing songs written by those whose overall theology, to put it gently, is “not consistent with our confessions.” Rather, we evaluate the merits of a given song and discern whether that song will build up our congregations in ways that are faithful to Scripture and consistent with our common theological vision. We can be discerning as we do this work. With 100,000 or more songs readily available to all of us, we can be very selective. It’s rare that we would even need to linger over borderline songs given the rich catalog of songs to which we have access. We should also be charitable as we do this work and resist the increasingly hostile nature of some internet discussions of particular publishers and songwriters. To insist on the doctrinal or moral purity of the author or composer feels a lot like the early church heresy of Donatism, which Augustine worked so hard to resist. The Donatists were early church rigorists, insisting that the leaders of the church must be saintly for their prayers and sacraments to be valid. They had to be leaders who successfully resisted persecution. Augustine insisted, in contrast, that it was Christ’s righteousness and not the righteousness or purity of the leaders that made for effective and sanctifying worship. We want to hold up saintly behavior for all of us, but we don’t rule out the good work that God’s Spirit can do through imperfect people—that is, all of us. At the same time, that doesn’t mean that every good song is equally appropriate regardless of its author’s story or tradition. Much depends on whether those who sing the song will be able to focus on the song itself. There are times when a given song carries with it so many extra layers of meaning from its cultural associations that those layers overtake the meaning of the words that are being sung. In the 1980s and 1990s, many worship leaders loved U2’s psalm-based “40 (How Long).” Some judged it would be fitting for use in worship. Others believed many worshipers would think more about Bono than God. Others were very aware that if they sang it, some members of their church would make all kinds of cultural connections as the song was sung while others would have no clue about those, creating a divided experience in the congregation. It’s important to honor the pastoral instincts of leaders who made different decisions here depending on their contexts. This all assumes we are talking about individual song choices. But sometimes more is at stake.  Many churches look to a single, go-to source for most of their music. There are “Bethel churches” and “Hillsong churches” and “Chris Tomlin churches” and “Keith and Kristen Getty churches” just like there once were “Watts churches” and “Wesley churches” and “Genevan Psalm churches.” A given musical tradition thus becomes something much more than the source for a single song here and there. It becomes the source of a congregation’s worship identity. When this happens, it is particularly important to discern the underlying theological vision of that tradition. Indeed, each of these traditions offers very different views on at least some central aspects of Christian teaching, and the internet is aflutter with intense discussions about these differences. If a given church has a catechism from one tradition and a single-source song repertoire from a tradition with quite a different theological vision, there is little doubt which theological vision will become more influential over time. The sticking power of songs wins the day. The best approach of all is to resist any single musical source as a marker of a congregational worship identity. It is highly unlikely that a single musical source will lead to a consistently balanced diet of theological and pastoral themes. While it’s possible to live on one food group for a while, it’s hard to thrive for decades that way. That’s as true of our spiritual diets as it is of our musical ones. “In the Cross of Christ I Glory” was and still can be an edifying choice for many Reformed congregations. But that’s something far different from Reformed congregations going out of their way to identify themselves with the rich tradition of Unitarian hymnody. Finally, as we make our choices, realize that there is also an economic aspect to this. There really is a worship industry out there, and the royalties we pay really do add up. Many of these single-source groups are powerful players in that industry. Part of the value of discerning choices is that over time we will end up supporting faithful musicians from across a spectrum of cultures and contexts who are faithfully interpreting God’s Word through song. In sum, it is possible to avoid an overly rigorist rejection of a given source while also being quite resolute in refusing to identify with that source.

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Funeral planning is a growing pastoral challenge. Even ten years ago, families mostly left planning to the pastor, who worked to personalize each service. Now, families often make requests of the pastor—but many don’t fit well in a Christian funeral. So how might pastors respond wisely to such requests and even proactively avoid them?

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