How long O Lord, how long?
How long will our news be filled with reports of violence?
How long will neighbor turn against neighbor with words, and fists, and guns?
Why are people filled with such fear and anger that they desire to kill?
Sovereign God we cry “Lord have mercy!”
Sing: Kyrie Eleison (such as Lift Up Your Hearts #637 or another appropriate refrain.)
Sovereign God, we pray for comfort and healing.
It was so predictable that it became comical. The third Monday of the term students walked into the “Foundations of Worship” class that Karen deMol and I taught together at Dordt College with their heads hanging, eyeing us suspiciously, holding their worship reflection assignments in their hands.
Who Needs It?
It is a hazardous thing to criticize a worship song. The songs we sing in church are dear to us—sacred even. Their potency comes from the fact that, over time, the songs become a part of us. Like eating and drinking, the rhythms and rhymes of these songs have a way of seeping deep into our marrow.
So it is with a bit of trepidation that I criticize the much-beloved hymn below.
Liturgophiles Gone Wild
Many of us who love and appreciate the Church’s rich liturgical tradition feel this way because of how it has affected us, especially over time. For us, the liturgy is deeply understood and deeply felt. But this is not the case a large majority of Christians. Despite the resurgence of interest in overtly liturgical worship (I use “overtly” because, as many have pointed out, all worship has a liturgy), the growth of the Church in the global South has been largely of the Pentecostal and charismatic variety.