Oh Church, where is your victory?
I was listening to this in the car the other day:
…the other day is a couple of weeks ago now. Because something or other always comes up, and the fire that’s within dies down to a simmer.
The fact remains.
Sometimes our songs sound like simpering. They’re all about “God, rescue me!” (a valid request), “God, I really need you” (extremely true), “I will follow you all of my days” (a right response), “I need to love You more” (and how are you doing that?) or “You are there in my darkest hour” (also extremely true). I’m not saying it’s wrong. I’m not saying it’s false. Or unnecessary.
But it’s only presenting one side of the story.
We also need to sing the declarations of victory — to declare the times when God has already come through for us, not only the times when we need Him to. And we’re not doing enough of this.
At least where I am.
And that needs to change.
There was a time when the Church sang victory songs. It sang marching songs. It understood the concept of being victors, of being on the march, of being soldiers for Christ. There was that feeling — knowledge — that this was the Church Victorious, not through our good works or our deeds, but through the completed work of Christ.
Then there came a shift. A change. As the separation of Church and State became more pronounced, more evident (and maybe even more necessary), the whole focus shifted. We are a generation far removed from war. It’s something that happened to our ancestors in the past, to the Muslims in the Middle East, far away, far removed. Now was the time of Christ as my personal saviour, of what He has done for me, of our desperate need for Him. And instead of this adding to and informing our worship, it came to dominate.
In the new ecosystem of worship concerts and mega churches, we became needy consumers, always searching for the next move of God, for the next touch, for the weeping and the laughter and the revival, without really knowing what it was supposed to mean.
I’m generalising, of course. And conjecturing. I’m speaking of my experiences of the now, of this place, as if it is a whole, as if it is true for everyone.
Maybe it is.
Most likely it isn’t.
But this church, this Church, this now needs more victorious songs. Because we need to move from what we need God to do, into what God has and is doing. We need to stop singing from the perspective of —
I know this is what You can do, will you do it? (please?)
This is who my God is. This is what He has done. And therefore, this is who I am.
Or I could be totally wrong.