Churches that understood corporate worship to be covenant renewal used music that modestly supported a fitting embodiment of doctrinally rich hymn lyrics and avoided music that simply “enervates men’s souls.” Sacramental worship, on the other hand, with its understanding of worship as felt experience of God, saw pop music as the perfect vehicle for their goals. 

In a previous article, I argued that music (all art) embodies interpretation of reality—it embodies ideas beyond mere words. Scripture itself does this, not only telling us what we should believe, qualities that should describe us, and how we should live, but also showing us through artistic embodiment those things. Therefore, we Christians ought to always evaluate the embodied ideas within a work of art to determine whether or not they accord with sound doctrine (Titus 2:1).
Two Worship Theologies
This brings us to music used in worship. As I’ve argued, what worship songs do is more than just neutrally carry theological ideas expressed through words. If this were the case, then as long as the words were theologically correct, it would not matter what musical forms or performance style carries those words.
Side note: I hope you recognize here that even lyrics that are “technically” correct may already present an interpretation of biblical ideas that do not “accord with sound doctrine.” This is beyond the scope what I want to get to in this article, but just consider whether “reckless” or “sloppy wet kiss” accords with how Scripture expresses God’s love. These are not just neutral expressions of a correct biblical truth (God’s love), they embody a particular interpretation of what God’s love is like.
Music is not simply a neutral container for lyrical ideas—music embodies an interpretation of those ideas. So with worship songs, the music embodies both an interpretation of the particular words of the song and an interpretation of what is actually happening in the worship service.
So before I give some attention to the music itself, we need to briefly review the fact that Christians hold to more than one theology of worship.
For simplicity’s sake, I’ll focus on what I would say are the two most dominant theologies of worship among Christians today.1
Covenant-Renewal Worship
The first is what I’ll call Covenant-Renewal Worship. This is a theology of worship that considers the Lord’s Day corporate gathering to be one of covenant renewal in which God renews his covenant with his people through the gospel, and his people renew their covenant with him in responses of adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and dedication. This kind of covenant renewal glorifies God because it highlights the work that he has done, and it forms his people to mature in how they live out the implications of that gospel covenant. Here’s how I describe it in Biblical Foundations of Corporate Worship:
Corporate worship is like renewing our gospel vows to Christ. Just like when we were first converted, God calls us to draw near to him. Just like at our conversion, we respond with confession of sin and acknowledgement that we have broken God’s laws. Just like when we were first saved, we hear words of pardon from God because of the sacrifice of Christ. Just like when we began our relationship with God, we eagerly listen to his instructions and commit to obey. We are not getting “re-saved” each week, but we are renewing our covenant vows to the Lord, and in so doing, we are rekindling our relationship with him and our commitment to him, and he with us.2
Worship services shaped by this theology follow the shape of the gospel:

God reveals himself and calls his people to worship through his Word.
God’s people acknowledge and confess their need for forgiveness.
God provides atonement.
God speaks his Word.
God’s people respond with commitment.
God hosts a celebratory feast.

Corporate worship that embodies this theology is dialogical, a conversation between God and his people. God always speaks first through his Word, and then his people respond appropriately to God’s revelation.
As Bryan Chapell has helpfully demonstrated in Christ-Centered Worship, and as I demonstrate in Changed from Glory into Glory: The Liturgical Story of the Christian Faith, covenant-renewal worship characterized believers in the early church and Protestants following the seventeenth-century Reformation. Though differences certainly exist between various groups stemming from the Reformation, their theology of covenant-renewal worship was fairly consistent. Another book that very helpfully explains this historic theology of worship is Jonathan Cruse’s What Happens When We Worship.
Songs within this covenant-renewal worship serve one of two functions: (1) Often psalms and hymns serve as God’s words to us, either directly quoting from or paraphrasing Scripture itself. (2) Psalms and hymns can also serve as our response to God’s revelation.
With both cases, choice of songs depends upon how the lyrical content fits within the dialogical, gospel-shaped covenant renewal service. Songs are not lumped together into a musical “set,” but rather interspersed with Scripture readings and prayers throughout the dialogical, gospel-shaped service.
The goal of covenant-renewal worship is discipleship—building up the body (1 Cor 14:26). Every aspect of the service is chosen, not for how it will give “authentic expression” to the worshipers or give them an experience of God’s presence (see below), but rather how it will build them up, maturing them by the Word of God.
The music itself is actually not very prominent in this theology of worship. Music is important—as I’ve discussed, it provides an interpretation of the theology of the lyrics and gives expression to that interpretation. But music is secondary. The music is selected and performed to modestly support the truth with sentiments that “accord to sound doctrine,” and an emphasis is given to reverence, self-control, sobriety, and dignity in how the songs are led, accompanied, and performed.
Contrary to caricatures, this kind of worship is deeply emotional, but the music is not intended to stimulate or arouse emotion; rather, deep affections of the soul are stirred by the Holy Spirit through his Word, and music simply gives language to appropriate responses to the Word. Emotion in covenant-renewal worship is not often immediate, visceral, or flashy—rather, it is felt deeply in the soul.3 In fact, particularly because of commands in Scripture (like Titus 2:1) that Christians are to be dignified and self-controlled, care is given to avoid music that would cause a worshiper to lose control. Christians with this theology recognized that although physical feelings are good, they must be controlled lest our “belly” (a Greek metaphor for bodily passions) be our god (Phil 3:19). Rather, since reverence, dignity, and self-control are qualities that accord with sound doctrine, music is chosen that will nurture and cultivate these qualities and the affections of the soul like compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience (Col 3:12) and love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal 5:23). This theology takes note of the fact that qualities like intensity, passion, enthusiasm, exhilaration, or euphoria are never described in Scripture as qualities to pursue or stimulate, and they are never used to define the nature of spiritual maturity or the essence of worship.
Musical choices from this perspective are not about new vs. old or the canonization of one kind of music; rather, it is about choosing musical forms that best accord with a covenant-renewal theology of worship.
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Psalm 104 gives a good sense of what dinosaur-inspired praise might sound like. Here, the psalmist marvels not only at the gentle beauty of God’s creation — flowing streams and singing birds — but also at its harder edges: the young lions roaring for prey and, strikingly, even Leviathan himself sporting in sea (Psalm 104:21, 26). Some may hold the bones of long-lost species and see only “a meaningless swarm of life,” Derek Kidner writes. But the psalmist teaches us to see them “as giving some inkling of the Creator’s wealth, and the range and precision of his thought” (Psalms 73–150, 405).

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Tyrannosaurus Rex these days — and Stegosaurus, Triceratops, and Velociraptor. I’ve also made the acquaintance of some less-familiar figures, like the long-necked, small-brained Diplodocus and the head-crested Parasaurolophus (which actually rolls off the tongue once you get the hang of it).
I’m no paleontologist or museum curator. I haven’t seen the latest installment of the Jurassic saga. I’m just dad to a 2-year-old boy. And like so many young boys, he reads, plays, and roars dinosaur.
Over the last months, his dino shirts and books (and figures and stickers) have dug up old fascinations, mostly buried since The Land Before Time and a book of Brontosauruses I thumbed through as a kid. They’ve also unearthed some new questions, especially as I try to help my son trace God’s design in the dinosaurs.
If the heavens declare God’s glory (Psalm 19:1), and his wondrous works proclaim his praise (Psalm 104:24), then surely these long-extinct giant reptiles say something spectacular about him. But what?
These Old Bones?
What we tell our children about dinosaurs will be shaped, of course, by whether we think they roamed the earth millions of years ago or relatively recently. Both perspectives have biblical merit; both also have their difficulties. I have my own leanings on the question, as most of us do, but for the purposes of this article, I’m going to sidestep that matter entirely.
I won’t mind much whether my son embraces a young-earth or old-earth view of creation; I will mind greatly whether he sees dinosaurs (and all the earth) in relation to the God who made them. And the most important lessons dinosaurs teach, it seems to me, have little to do with the age of their bones. Whether they lived in the Mesozoic Era or the days of Noah, much remains the same: Many were fierce. Many were fantastical. And many were absolutely enormous.
What then can we learn from such incredible creatures? Among other lessons, consider three.
Trust the God of Wisdom
Steve Brusatte’s popular 2018 book The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs tells an absorbing history of the dinosaurs’ reign. Unfortunately, it also represents and reinforces the popular view that dinosaurs have nothing to do with God. Naturalistic evolution plays the deity in Brusatte’s telling — a blind and brainless force somehow endowed with tremendous foresight: “evolution created” beasts like the behemoth sauropods (108); “evolution assembled all of the pieces [and] put them together in the right order” (117); T. Rex and his ilk were “incredible feats of evolution” (225).
The naturalistic worldview may be relatively new; the underlying impulse on display here, however, is anything but. God’s people have always needed to confess God’s handiwork over against popular myths. In the ancient world, Israel’s Canaanite neighbors considered the tannînîm (fearsome sea creatures, sometimes translated as “serpents,” “dragons,” or “monsters”) to represent “the powers of chaos confronting Baal in the beginning” (Derek Kidner, Genesis, 54). Moses, meanwhile, writes in Genesis 1:21 that “God created the great sea creatures [tannînîm].” The Canaanites can say what they want. We know that even the monsters are God’s masterpieces.
In similar fashion, God’s final speech in Job takes a massive land animal, Behemoth, and a fierce water beast, Leviathan (another monster of Canaanite lore), and describes them as God’s creatures: “Behold, Behemoth, which I made” (Job 40:15); “Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine” (Job 41:11).
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And so also do some say that such people in our own midst experience this lust unchosen, that it is largely fixed and unlikely to ever dissipate in this life, and that it would be unfair to deprive them of participation in something that others are allowed to experience. You seem to accept this position, or at the least to not think it is one that deserves condemnation, and you put your efforts into opposing those that seek to combat things like Revoice.

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The Dangers of Activism
There is danger in approaching the church as you do. He who engages in denominational politics, regardless of his faction, must heed this danger, for it is easy to become so bogged down with politicking that the common work of ministry is drowned out. In this you do poorly, and I fear the direction and consequences of your labors, that they tend to evil.
Perhaps you will appeal to the example of the Reformers and say that you only follow after their example in the spirit of semper reformanda. But they did not work to change a church that was faithful, but one that was false and in a state of “Babylonian” captivity. You approach the church as though it is a thing that you might fashion according to your own preferences. You seem to forget that the church belongs to Christ, and that he is a jealous king who will not share his glory with another. He is the dread majesty who “is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:29) and who “dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see” (1 Tim. 6:16).
Those who rule in his church ought always to remember that they should do so in his manner, openly and honorably, and they must never forget that all power and dominion in the church is his alone and that we are not free to do with or in the church as we will, but are mere stewards and servants of him who is the “only Sovereign” (1 Tim. 6:15). Consider the advice of one who was zealous in sundry activities, but who strayed from God in the midst of his doings:
Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. To draw near to listen is better than to offer the sacrifice of fools, for they do not know that they are doing evil. Be not rash with your mouth, nor let your heart be hasty to utter a word before God, for God is in heaven and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few. (Ecc. 5:1-2)
The church is God’s house, and they who deal with it should not be hasty in seeking to administer its affairs or in setting her policies and form at the highest levels (Lk. 14:10). Much unintentional harm has been done in this world by those that meant well but who could not see the consequences of their actions. Who can say where this activist spirit will lead, or what others who learn from its example will do? The temper of a thing often lingers after its immediate purpose is forgotten, and it may be that the activist tendency endures long after the present debates in the PCA are relics of the past.
The Fundamentalist-Modernist Controversy transpired long ago, and yet the same spirit that reorganized Princeton Seminary is still at work in the PCUSA, albeit yet more faithless, and it leads her to follow the culture at every step, even into her own oblivion. Can you be sure that this activist spirit that you embody will not break free of restraint and lead you or others in bad directions? Is it not perhaps better to forego such a tendency and do the work of an elder in simplicity, giving little heed to politicking and instead keeping the faith as it has been delivered to us?
A Contemporary Failing
There is concern also in your position regarding Revoice. You believe that homosexual lust does not disqualify one from office and that the church would effectively wrong those that manifest it by refusing to ordain them. Does office exist for those that desire it? Is it not rather a position of service that places those that hold it in subjection to the needs of the sheep? No one has any right to office, and the denomination wrongs no one if it determines that the nature of someone’s lust prevents him from serving effectively or makes him morally unfit. In this you think along worldly lines, regarding the individual as possessing absolute rights to do as he wishes, and regarding it as unfair if others object or attempt to assert their own rights in turn. “This is the age in which thin and theoretic minorities can cover and conquer unconscious and untheoretic majorities” (G.K. Chesterton). It is an age in which the individual is everything and the corporate body nothing, in which a radical individualism prevails and says that the individual’s personal fulfillment is everything and that collective bodies have no rights of their own and exist only to assist individuals in finding their own career fulfillment or emotional acceptance (by self and others), or other such notions of personal wellbeing (or “flourishing”).
You upset the proper relation of things and seem to regard the church as existing to give the individual an occasion to labor, not the office holder as existing to feed the sheep (comp. Mk. 10:42-45; Jn. 21:15-17; Eph. 4:11-14). How else can we explain your horror that the PCA might refuse to ordain men who experience persistent homosexual lust or even remove them from office? In this two things are especially concerning.
One is that you have sworn to your acceptance of our form of government as part of your ordination, a form of government which says “every Christian Church, or union or association of particular churches, is entitled to declare the terms of admission into its communion and the qualifications of its ministers and members” and that even if it errs in doing this “it does not infringe upon the liberty or the rights of others, but only makes an improper use of its own.” You like Preliminary Principle I, because you think it elevates individual conscience above corporate conscience, the minister over the denomination that ordains, invests, and supervises him. But you seem to ignore Principle II, which qualifies principle I and establishes the practical rights of the corporate church body.
It is further concerning that the basic argument that some in our midst use is the same as that which was successfully used to normalize immorality in society. It was repeated ad nauseam that homosexuals are such because of an orientation that is immutable and unchosen, and that it was wrong to deprive them of things that others could experience because they did not choose this orientation. It was felt to be unfair for society to determine the nature and qualifications of its most basic institution of marriage.
And so also do some say that such people in our own midst experience this lust unchosen, that it is largely fixed and unlikely to ever dissipate in this life, and that it would be unfair to deprive them of participation in something that others are allowed to experience. You seem to accept this position, or at the least to not think it is one that deserves condemnation, and you put your efforts into opposing those that seek to combat things like Revoice. Thus do you participate, for all intents and purposes, in a contemporary movement to normalize homosexuality in the church. God says this is an abomination that should not be tolerated or even mentioned (Eph. 5:3), and that he has delivered men from it (1 Cor. 6:9), but you say it does not unfit one for office and that those who think it does are the ones who act unreasonably and unfairly.
Thus, do you effectively excuse what God condemns; and if you elsewhere teach an orthodox position you ought to consider that such an inconsistency cannot long exist (Matt. 6:24; 12:25) and that one of the principles must eventually win out to the utter exclusion of the other. You cannot espouse an orthodox view of sexuality and marriage on the one hand and then accept the concept of homosexual identity and put great energies into asserting a “right” for self-professed homosexuals to lead in the church on the other, especially when the basic argument that is used to normalize such lust and the basic conception of those that experience it is invading our denomination’s public discourse from the wider culture and is not gleaned from God’s word. We are only having this debate because the culture has already done so, and if it had not done so we would not be doing so now, for the impetus for it comes from culture and not from Scripture.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Simpsonville, S.C.