I saw him coming. Like a runaway locomotive with steam billowing in all directions, he broke through the line of departing parishioners and screeched to a halt in front of me.
"What's the idea of changing the closing hymn this morning without telling me?" he demanded in a fortissimo voice. "I work so hard to plan the music and coordinate the service, then you have the nerve to throw that clinker in at the last minute."
"Clinker?" I responded weakly, trying to appear calm before the startled people around me. I was a young pastor; he was a talented musician. He was several years older than I, but we had never directly clashed before.
"That last hymn was a clinker! A terrible selection. The congregation couldn't sing it. The organist couldn't play it. And I didn't like it. It didn't fit at all. Never, never, do that again."
He turned abruptly and strode off, leaving me stunned as I mumbled something about the stress of ministry to the curious bystanders still in the hallway. Fumbling my way to the refuge of my office, I felt the blessing of the morning quickly fade. What began as bewilderment at the surprise attack turned rapidly to seething defensiveness.
Who does he think he is anyway? I thought angrily. I have a right to do what's best for the worship service. After all, who's in charge here? I don't care if he has been at the church longer. Besides, that wasn't such a bad hymn. We used to sing it in seminary chapel all the time. He should talk. The choir's been eating into my preaching time the past seven Sundays, yet he still says we need two anthems. No wonder we get out late. Makes you wonder if a music ministry is worth it.
Sound familiar? Whether you sympathize with my self-righteous indignation or my musical colleague's vocal frustration, you probably recognize the confrontation as fairly typical in the continuing duet between pastors and musicians. Though there are moments of sublime harmony, there are also times of painful dissonance as opinions, traditions, and egos clash.
Music has always been at the center of the worshiping community. It is one of God's most glorious gifts, able to move people beyond the realm of mere words. Without doubt, music touches the eternal. But many times we find it the center of temporal turmoil, even among God's people.
King David, that sweet singer of Israel, touched off controversy as he sang and danced the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem. We've all been tormented by self-appointed experts who regularly criticize the weekly choice of music. What pastor hasn't felt anxiety rising as the offertory soloist labors through six verses while sermon time is being diminished note by note?
Who is to decide the proper role of music in the church? Most ministers of music will say the responsibility is theirs. Most pastors will remind you that they still lead the church. Ask the congregation, and you'll get more opinions than Bach has cantatas.
Too often these conflicting attitudes and expectations can threaten the life of a local congregation. One pastor commented "More churches have been split over worship styles, musical tastes, and service format than any other cause."
Is he right? Must music be a continual battleground between musicians and pastors? I think not. There is a better way, but it's not a quick formula to guarantee a spectacular music ministry.
Some congregations see music as a distant cousin to the "real" ministry of the church. And since they don't want to take responsibility for integrating it into the essential ministry of the church, they say, "Let's hire someone to do it for us." They sign up a music minister to dress up the services. As a result, services-and often the ministry itself-become more performance than participation. The people tend to become critics rather than worshipers. The music director becomes a producer rather than a minister, and the gap between minister and congregation only widens.
The pastor is forced to side with the congregation or the minister of music. If he chooses the congregation, a staff member is alienated. If he sides with the music director, his own ministry becomes more vulnerable to criticism.
Neither approach is the solution. I prefer the adagio, that slow, steady movement that brings a strong, balanced calm to a symphony-or a church. Pastors can bring this calm, balanced strength through hard work, patience, and the skill of a conductor. I've found the following principles are part of such a composition.
Minister to, Not Just through Musicians
The musicians I know are real people with real needs, just like the rest of the parishioners (and just like the pastor!).
I've had the privilege of working with three different ministers of music. They've differed in their ages, gender, training, and abilities. They've been part-time and full-time. At times their musical tastes have been very different from mine, but they've all shared one common trait: commitment.
Sensitive, sometimes fickle, maybe even demanding, most music ministers I know see their ministry as a distinct calling. Yet they often struggle with the same things that hinder pastors-insecurity, feelings of inadequacy, and exhaustion. They need someone they can trust. They need a pastor.
Years ago I had the privilege of working with Norman Johnson, past editor at Singspiration and minister of music at the Evangelical Covenant Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Norm had been at the church for many years; I was a rather green seminary graduate. To me, Norm was almost legendary. His reputation and presence kept me in a certain state of awe those early years. His ministry left an indelible mark on my life and ministry.
Yet, more than once I was sure the church wasn't big enough for both of us. Fortunately, I learned an important lesson: Deep down, fame, ability, and commanding presence didn't mean that much to Norm. Friendship did.
I'll never forget several lunches we had at Norm's request. At the time he had recently been diagnosed as having A.L.S., a dreaded disease, and he needed companions. Suddenly my order of worship and choice of hymns seemed no longer important. Norm's heart was breaking. He needed a friend, someone who could listen. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, "Christians have forgotten that the ministry of listening has been committed to them by the One who is Himself the great listener and whose work they should share. We should listen with the ears of God that we may speak the Word of God."
I'm not sure if there was a song leader in that happy, calamitous band that traveled with Jesus, but if there was, I'm sure he knew he could share his burdens with his Master, whom he knew would listen.
I also suspect Jesus was more than willing to share a laugh with his disciples. More and more I'm convinced that ministry to colleagues means sharing glad times as well as struggles. Laughing together is a life-giving exercise.
Malcolm Muggeridge once commented that the steeple and the gargoyle of the medieval cathedral provide a healthy pattern for the Christian life, the steeple symbolizing the heart reaching for the infinite God in heaven while the laughing gargoyle reminds us of our earthbound limits. What a pattern for healthy co-ministry relationships! We needn't take ourselves overseriously. Amid the urgency of our task, the joy of shared laughter can lighten heavy loads, calm ruffled feelings, refresh weary pilgrims, and renew an eternal perspective.
In our church, our staff will lunch together for any special occasion we can find. Practical jokes are a part of our normal week. Seasonal staff get-togethers are regular. Good relationships must be worked at, but the result is worth the effort. Mutual concern and joy are contagious. Our congregation is encouraged to see that its staff not only works well together but actually enjoys being together.
Listening and laughter are two gifts any pastor can offer. Musicians, like anyone else, care about ministry because they've received a ministry of care. Belonging is the foundation of all motivation.
Fix the End; Flex the Means
People tend to work better, certainly more enthusiastically, when you clearly establish the end but allow freedom to develop the means. As Peters and Waterman said in In Search of Excellence, people are motivated by a simultaneous need for both meaning and independence. Many times I've determined the meaning without allowing the corresponding independence to reach the end. Here again I learned a great lesson from Norman Johnson.
Like most seminary graduates, I approached my first parish keenly aware of the inadequacies of the church and the solutions for them. It was a rather arrogant ignorance with a spiritual veneer. So I would plan great moments for the congregation when our worship could finally be what God intended for us to experience. I took particular care to select hymns of substance, structure, and style. No gospel fluff for us. Unfortunately, I wasn't aware of my rather limited knowledge of hymnody, nor of my ignorance of the tastes and abilities of the congregation. My wife, a music major in college, tried to alert me to such liabilities, but I thought pastor knew best.
Finally, Norm graciously reminded me that familiarity and singability weren't sins. He worked with me to broaden my use of the hymnal, to be willing to incorporate hymns that may be less sophisticated, yet still to strive for excellence in worship. Gently I was reminded that he knew the territory better than I.
Not only have I found music ministers more knowledgeable than I, they are often more creative. I've learned to heed their creative ideas.
Several years ago during Advent, our minister of music, Lois Larson, decided to have the Christmas choir concert in our fellowship hall. She wanted people to invite unchurched friends who might not come to a church service but would come to a more intimate evening of music, hot cider, and cookies. Our fellowship hall, however, when tightly seated, has about one-third the capacity of our sanctuary.
This would mean at least three performances with tickets to regulate the crowds. Inwardly I shuddered, "Welcome to the Covenant Cabaret!" All I could think about were the logistical and ecclesiastical headaches.
O me of little faith. It was a splendid evening! Our unchurched friends seemed to enjoy it most. Again the lesson came home: Allow freedom for individual gifts to be expressed and grow. But do it within the context of structure. Planning is the key.
The more we strategize, the better we harmonize. Thus, regular staff meetings are a must. Regular calendar reviews, both long- and short-range, anticipate seasons and special events before they spring up as surprises.
Is it possible to give the music minister my preaching schedule for the next six (how about three) months? It is, and I'm amazed how much this helps. The choir doesn't have the pastoral luxury of waiting for last-minute inspiration to decide what to do on Sunday. They need weeks of rehearsal time. Musicians must plan ahead even if the pastor does not. Why not work together?
Such planning not only gives direction to the music ministry but also enhances corporate worship and probably makes for better preaching. It even eases the pastor's Saturday night nerves.
Encourage Musicians to Grow
Professional development and spiritual growth are crucial to any ministry, including music. Unless the pastor personally encourages such growth, it might not happen. Such encouragement is both direct and indirect.
First, the direct. A former colleague, a minister of music/Christian education, was an outstanding organist. On any given Sunday, I would find myself, in Charles Wesley's words, "lost in wonder, love, and praise" because of the glorious organ music that guided our worship. Regularly I thanked Glen for the hours he spent preparing and told him how much his ministry meant to me and to the congregation. He was successful in this area, and he needed to know it.
It's easy to focus on areas of weakness, thinking that correcting faults will lead to better performance, but success is usually a more powerful motivator than failure. After affirming strengths, then we can strengthen weaknesses based on a firm foundation of accomplishment. Direct, honest encouragement pays rich dividends.
Encouragement can also be indirect. I've found I need to be an ally, sometimes even an advocate, for music ministry to the church board. I'll push for increasing the budget so new music can be purchased regularly. I realize some feel the choir could still sing the old songs, but these same folks never want to hear the same sermon twice.
Freshness is part of encouraging creativity, and so I encourage musicians to improve their craft by attending seminars, workshops, and classes at the church's expense. Why not provide money for subscriptions to professional journals and music libraries?
Then, if the musicians are paid, there's the issue of salary. Here's where the baton hits the podium. Are we willing to recommend quality raises at annual review time? We know what raises do for us. The song is the same for ministers of music.
One last form of encouragement: Pray with and for the musicians. Often we relate on a solely professional level. They need prayer as much as anyone.
Don't believe those who say there's no business like show business. Ministering week by week to a media-blitzed congregation is tough. Tastes run from Amy Grant to Giovanni Gabrielli. Musicians feel the pressure and need to know they're being prayerfully supported.
Dignify the Ministry of Music
To dignify the ministry of music, we must be willing to go public, to let the congregation know how valuable it is, to develop appreciation for the musicians. Corporate worship is prime time to affirm the work of musicians and ministers of music.
In our church, we offer a prayer of consecration at the beginning of each choir season. Regularly I refer to the anthems and solos (even to unsung accompanists) during worship. It's one thing to say "Nice anthem last Sunday" as we pass each other in the hall. It's something else to express it on Sunday morning from the pulpit.
Dare I mention applause? Always cautious to avoid the entertainment complex (after all, when will they ever clap after a sermon?), we must admit that heartfelt applause out of adoration for God and appreciation for his gift of music can be a genuine form of public affirmation.
After being in my present church for about a year, I realized our minister of music had been faithfully serving for about eleven years. Technically only part-time, Lois had developed a splendid ministry, one that had a reputation perhaps larger than the church.
When I asked if the church had recognized her ten years of service, I received an embarrassed no. We went to work. A secret letter was sent to the congregation informing them of our surprise evening of recognition. That night, tributes were given. Then the lights went out. Suddenly Lois was flooded in a stream of light from the new spotlight the church purchased-something she had been wanting for five years. No more borrowing or renting.
The results were great. The congregation enjoyed showing public gratitude. Lois was thrilled, and the music ministry has become even better. Such is the value of giving the ministry of music the dignity it rightly deserves.
Even with all this, however, problems can still arise. I've found a need for at least one more principle.
Know When to Intervene
There are times in any organization when a part can run ahead or away from the rest. This can be true of music ministry in the church, usually the result of exuberance and enthusiasm. Rivers can overflow their banks; sometimes the pastor has to sandbag.
Knowing when to intervene is an art. It demands patience, wisdom, firmness, and love. Because people and situations are different, legal lists of what to do aren't too helpful. Instead, I've found it helpful to try seeing the situation two ways: through objective and subjective relationships.
Objectively, I'm concerned with the relationship of music ministry to the larger ministry of the church. Subjectively, I'm concerned with my relationship to the minister of music. Both must be weighed to solve any problem successfully.
Several years ago our high school choir performed a Christmas musical. The music was good, and the choreography was illustrative and lively, except for one piece about Herod's court. As I watched them practice, I kept waiting for John Travolta to strut down the aisle. It wasn't tasteless or obscene, but I could envision trying to explain our rendition of Sunday Night Fever.
Of course, the choir loved it, so if I were to intervene, I would risk offending and alienating them.
Private intervention always being best, I decided to talk with Lois the next day. I said I wondered if some people might misunderstand the one number with its animated anatomical antics. She said she'd had the same concern. Because we both wanted what was best for the larger ministry of the church, we agreed on something that could have been a major conflict if either of us had had a narrower perspective. In this case, my intervention was timely and helpful.
Other times, however, intervention is a mistake. Early in my pastorate here in California, I decided to bring a different emphasis to Christmas. Instead of the annual Christmas Eve service the church was used to, I proposed a traditional Scandinavian Ricotta service at 6 A.M. on Christmas Day.
My concerns were genuine but not well informed. Our minister of music was less than enthusiastic and pointed out that the Christmas Eve service was an opportunity for outreach; a 6 A.M. service probably was not. But I was adamant, so we went ahead and did it my way.
Frankly, the service was reasonably well attended, but it was dull and lifeless. I felt I was dragging everyone with me. I learned again that worship is corporate, not just individual. The pastor's taste and prerogative is not enough of a foundation on which to build.
Admitting that I misread the congregation and its needs has strengthened both my relationships and leadership within the church. Wise intervention by the pastor is occasionally needed in the continuing duet with the minister of music. The ability to admit unwise interventions is also a necessity.
Late one evening a number of years ago, I happened to walk into Norm Johnson's office as he was working on a new choir arrangement. I watched his intensity. Discarded first, second, third, and fourth drafts of the score he was trying to compose were scattered across the room.
"So this is how they make music, huh?" I commented, interrupting his concentration.
"The music," he said, "comes from the Chief Musician. I'm just trying to find it, and hard work is the only way I know."
Hard work indeed! So is the sustaining of music in the life of the church. The continuing improvisation between pastors and musicians will keep on going. Simplistic solutions are not to be found. But it's better to strive for a duet, not a duel, in our service for the kingdom.
Garth Bolinder is pastor of Modesto Covenant Church, Modesto, California.
