It may not seem relevant right now, but Abigail was a beautiful and intelligent woman.
Christians are good at fighting relativism when it comes to matters of truth. Those who reject a fixed standard of truth are soon engaged in debate by capable Christian apologists. Believers also do well when the subject at hand is ethics. Those who want moral standards to be set, or set aside, according to the dictates of the current situation are also quickly challenged by Christians. But in the realm of aesthetics we are almost as relativistic as the world outside. Whenever an aesthetic judgment call is made, inside the church or out, the chorus of protests from Christians starts in: “But who is to say . . .?” In this, we sound just like the people we debate in matters of truth and ethics. The reason we sound like them is that because, on this issue, we are like them. We are seeking to function as though atheism could be true in a limited way, at least on the question of beauty and loveliness.
As a result, we choose churches on much the same principle used in choosing a department store or gas station. In this choice, the criteria are convenience and suitability to our tastes. We function as consumers, and the church is thought of as a service in which religious products are produced, in order to be consumed by us. And, because tastes vary, we drive down “church row” expecting all kinds of worship services — liturgical, traditional, contemporary, odd, bizarre, and so forth.
Beneath this is the assumption that every consumer has a constitutional right to his particular tastes. Some people like contemporary music, and some don’t. Some people like complicated music played on a church organ, and some don’t. Some like landscapes painted on saw blades, and some don’t. All such debates are resolved, at the end of the day, by our free market solution to this dilemma, which is to get in the car and drive around looking for the product which suits you.
Coming from church, we ask whether we liked the music, and not whether it was any good. We ask whether the service met our felt needs, and not whether God was honored in what was sung. We do this because we are relativists, and we might as well say so.
So then, back to Abigail. The fact that the Bible tells us that she was attractive means that such a thing as attractiveness in women exists. The idea that everyone is equally good-looking is consequently unscriptural. Extending the point, the fact that a psalm can be played skillfully means that it might not be. It might be played poorly. “Sing to Him a new song; play skillfully with a shout of joy” (Ps. 33:3). The musicians selected for the worship of the Temple were talented. Apparently this mattered, but my point is a more fundamental one. Apparently, musical talent exists — in just the same way that truth and goodness exist. The Bible says that musical ability exists, and is to be preferred in the worship of God.
This is not to say that aesthetic judgments are easy, or that we could flippantly make them without hard thinking and long training. The subject of aesthetics in the light of the Bible’s teaching has been long neglected among us, and we cannot expect to recover what we have lost in short order. We cannot throw away a legacy for several centuries, and then expect to get it all back in fifteen minutes. But the fact that the task is difficult does not make it optional.
Given this difficulty, it is not surprising that we are confused. In our debates about worship music, we frequently miss the central point. For example, the issue of first importance is not which side is right in the debate over traditional forms or contemporary forms. The thing that really matters is that a true debate be acknowledged to exist. For example, I sometimes jokingly describe the worship service at our church to be “seeker hostile.” We do not exactly have what could be described as a contemporary service. This is not because we don’t know how; when the church began it was very much a “Jesus people” operation. Over the years, we have come to a different position, and to a different practice. But if someone were to challenge what we are doing because he believed we were not honoring God, I would hail him as an adversary well-met.
This is because the Bible says that an honest answer is like a kiss on the lips. If privileged to debate a brother who said that what we were doing was aesthetically inferior, I would be delighted, because we would share a belief that standards exist. A man in error will pick up the wrong side of the debate. But a relativist says that all such debates are silly and unproductive. There is no debate, because there is no answer.
And this is what I hear from Christians. What I hear is a poor substitute for honest debate, and is, in the final analysis, the counsel of despair. “Who is to say what good music is?”
If the question cannot be answered, what shall we sing in heaven?