I spent much of last week at a themed resort, a heavily themed resort with a number of settings, each staged with meticulous attention to detail. A long-time lover of Africa and all things African, I was thrilled to stay in a lodge manned by natives, brimming over with African art and ambiance, and alive at all times with the sound of African music. The air was deliciously filled with softly undulating rhythms, quiet wooden vibes, and subtle chantings.

Venture outside of the lodge area into another setting, and you might hear airy Asian whistles, or Venetian love ballads, or worse, much worse, endless repetitions of “It’s A Small World.” Yes, my family visited Disney World, and take it from me, the world really is not that small. But I digress….

I was fascinated by the way Disney used music to create a setting. The subliminal soundtrack of each venue deliberately crafted an appealing ambiance, removing you from central Florida and transporting you to a place distant both geographically and psychically. Disney leaves nothing to chance, and the effect was subtle yet profound, exactly as intended, I’m sure. The soundtrack encouraged you to believe that you were, indeed, on an African plain. And it was presented with such understated appeal that you were happy to do so.

You probably know where I’m going with this…. While I admit that the application isn’t exactly the same, I wonder if our music, themed in a somewhat similar sense, is as successful. Does Christian music create a vibe equally as winsome? Are our musical expressions of faith ‘transporting’ in the sense of offering a glimpse into another world? As imaginative as ol’ Walt was, even he couldn’t duplicate the ‘quickening’ power of the Spirit. We have access to the same power that raised Christ from the dead; imagine if it filled our music.

I’ve been wondering for a while now about the incessant clapping between songs during Sunday morning worship. I’m not sure how this strange trend started, but it’s always made me uncomfortable. Coincidentally, it seems to have started right around the time worship music hit the commercial market in a big way, and I’ve wondered also if there is a connection between these two developments. Exactly who is being applauded on Sunday morning? You want to assume it’s God, but it never really feels that way to me.

I visited a church in my area for the first time yesterday, one that has been growing rather explosively. It was the snappy ad in the paper that drew me, something about ‘experiencing the power of God.’ …In a word, NOT. It was actually more like an extended period of elevator behavior. You know, where everyone stares straight ahead in a zombie-like trance of extreme isolation? Even the clapping felt a bit robotic. But when the pastor mentioned being ‘back-stage,’ I felt a chill rundown my spine.

Yes, in one sense it’s just a word, a descriptive term of location. But could it also serve to explain a central shift in our worship perspective? Worship as performance rather than devotion? A friend had recommended the church to me, saying that it was ‘like going to a concert.’ Unfortunately, it was exactly like that. The final nail in the coffin was when we were singing “I Could Sing of Your Love Forever” following the sermon. The lead guitarist leaned into the mic and thanked us for coming, at which point the singing stopped mid-song (I kid you not!) and the robots, um, I mean, the people turned immediately to the aisles and left, quickly and rather silently. Apparently ‘forever’ wasn’t even the full three minutes. This song was not so much an expression of adoration as a part of the closing ceremony.

At what point did the audience of One come to mean ourselves?