Does The Church Need Your Worship Song?

A few months ago, there was a span of five or six weeks where it seemed I got an email or comment from a worship pastor or independent artist asking to meet for coffee, get on a Zoom, or go for a hike to get some advice every day. Many of these emails were long and heartfelt. Every message carried a sense of great angst and deep burden. If there’s such a thing as tear-stained emails, a few of these fit the bill.

They were all asking the exact same question.

How do I get my worship songs out to the rest of the world?

These people have a heart for the church; a love for music and writing. They want to use their gifts to glorify God, and they see songs coming out all the time from famous movements and worship leaders. At some point you can’t help but ask, “How do I do that?”

I’m sure they reached out to me because I’m a guy who’s worked at worship labels and mentored artists and I seem easier to get to than K-Love. (and I am.) Maybe I can help, right?

If God gave these people these songs, and they know how special they are, shouldn’t everybody hear them?

I tried to respond with some helpful advice and encouragement, but eventually I couldn’t keep up. Their emails were so long and specific that they deserved a thoughtful response, but those would take so long that by the time I finished one, three or four more would’ve appeared, and at some point I shamefully gave up.

The thing is, I was heartbroken for these friends. I resonated so deeply. I know what it’s like to carry this fire. To have something you want to scream from the mountaintop and have no mountain to scream from — and sometimes no lungs to scream with.

It is maddening. Especially when you’re surrounded by voices from the summits all around you. Now not only do you not have the tools you wish you had to do what you feel called to, but you also have a decent helping of envy of all the people who do.

I get it.

My heart was breaking for another reason, too. Having worked in the business of worship music for so long, I know enough to know what they’re actually up against.

I know the staff at all the seven or eight companies that publish most of the worship music we sing around the English-speaking world. I know most of their songwriters. I know that they might sign two or three more writers a year, if they have the space and budget, which often they don’t.

(And that every new writer that gets signed means somebody else got dropped. Every new dream means another one died. Nashville has a lot more people who have HAD songwriting deals than currently have them.)

I know that Spotify gets served anywhere from 200 to 500 new worship songs every Friday. I know that Christian radio gets served 50 to 100 new worship songs every month.

I know that churches add, on average, five new songs a year to their repertoire.

Good luck.

The Bible tells us at least eight distinct times to sing a new song unto the Lord. He delights in hearing the songs of His children.

The rest of the world?

They are generally not that interested.

Like I said, it’s heartbreaking.

But does it have to be??

This brings us back to the original question: what do we do with our worship songs?

How about the deeper questions beneath:

What do we do with our dreams of success?

The passion that is tearing us up inside?

The longing to create and connect?

Maybe we have to start asking questions about why we feel what we make is only worth something if they get on some big stage.

Why sometimes we feel WE are only worth something if we get on that big stage.

And it’s not just our songs! It’s our whole culture.

If we’re a kid and we like to play sports, then we need to play travel ball and get a scholarship and go to a college that can win a championship because maybe we can go pro and get that Nike deal. If we like to draw or paint? We should go to school and get a degree in art or graphic design, and start an Instagram account, and try to get a gallery show. If we like to write, we’ve got to get followers on our Substack so we can land that book deal.

In the most commoditized, product-oriented, curated, and consumeristic culture in history, if you make a meal without filming it, did you ever really eat it?

It’s exhausting.

We’re tired of not enjoying the things we love.

Maybe what we need is a reframing.

What if the greatest use of the things we make isn’t world domination? What if some things, maybe even most things, find their greatest flourishing in smaller, more intimate spaces than we realize?

Maybe our definitions of success and failure need to be torn apart and rebuilt?

Could we make things just for the joy of it again, like we did when we were kids? Could we go for a run without logging our miles? Could we paint a picture just to hang it on our wall, and never tell anyone we did it?

Or what if what we make is for a wider audience? Maybe just not the one we’ve been beaten over the head to believe it has to be.

I’m thinking now about all of the emails I got a few months ago. And the times I’ve beat my head against the wall trying to write the next big church anthem, and felt like I totally failed, over and over again.

What if our worship songs are for the church body — the one that is right around us every Sunday?

This is the church body we actually know. The people we’ve laughed with and mourned with for years. We know the stories; the highs, the lows, and the buffaloes (as my kids call the weird things that happen we don’t have any other category for).

Some of my songs that have been “failures” as giant CCLI hits are songs we sing a lot at my church here in Nashville and the church I grew up in back in Illinois.

Is that Success? Is that Failure? Something else?

These are questions I’ve had to wrestle with a lot the past few years. Have you, as well?

Are there things about your longings or desires — creatively or otherwise — you’ve had to reframe? What might need reframing in this season you’re in today?

How would you answer those emails if they came to you, one after another?

I’ve got more thoughts here, but this is enough for now. There’s still a good bit left in these books about rest and quiet I need to frantically write, so I should get back to work!

Hope you’re all staying safe and cool in this crazy heat.

This week’s podcast with Jason Gray was fantastic, if you didn’t catch it. Great one for your road trip to your aunt’s house or Dollywood or wherever you’re going this weekend.

Thanks for your prayers as I keep working on The Quiet Hours books. I’m making some good progress on the books, and on the business-y side of it all, which is daunting and overwhelming. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of your emails and comments of encouragement the past few weeks. They mean more than you know!