Every Friday, you can see men pouring into the mosque down the hill from where I live in the U.A.E. They recite their prayers, go through rituals, and hear Qur’anic messages. But one thing they won’t be doing is singing.
There’s no corporate praise in the mosque. Singing doesn’t feature in their worship. There are no congregational hymns and no instruments. The same goes for Eastern religions—they may have occasional festival chanting, but in the ordinary course of religious life, there’s no congregational singing. As W. M. Clow notes, “A Buddhist temple never resounds with a cry of praise. Mohammedan worshippers never sing. . . . [Their prayers] are never jubilant with the songs of the forgiven.”
On the other hand, Christians can’t seem to stop singing: in catacombs, in cathedrals, everywhere throughout church history. In Saudi Arabia, the underground churches soundproof the walls and windows, sometimes with mattresses, so they can lift their voices in praise without detection. As Jesus said of the rejoicing multitudes, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (Luke 19:40).
There are at least three reasons why it’s impossible to stop God’s people from singing.
1. We sing because our salvation is accomplished.
After God’s miraculous deliverance in the exodus, his people rejoiced in song beside the Red Sea (Ex. 15:1–2). Centuries later, Isaiah anticipated a new exodus, a worldwide deliverance that would one day encompass all the nations. This promised redemption has been accomplished by the Lamb of God who came to take away the sin of the world (John 1:29). Today, Christians have a new song to sing (Isa. 42:10). Since Jesus gave himself up for us, we respond by “singing and making melody” in our hearts (Eph. 5:19).
Despite all the diversity of the world religions, there are really only two kinds. There’s the religion of Do and the religion of Done. The religion of Do prescribes festivals and sacrifices and rituals, earning or contributing to God’s acceptance. Then there’s the religion of Done. Only through Jesus Christ is the work finished “once for all” (Heb. 7:27; 9:12; 10:10). There’s nothing more to add.
Despite all the diversity of the world religions, there are really only two kinds. There’s the religion of Do and the religion of Done.
Islam has its five pillars, Buddhism its eightfold path. Sikhism prescribes patterns of self-salvation, and New Age offers spiritual techniques. But none of them can “perfect the conscience of the worshiper” (9:9). There’s no assurance of salvation accomplished. There’s only dreadful duty and a “fearful expectation of judgment” (10:27). No wonder jubilant song doesn’t characterize their worship.
2. We sing to instruct others.
When we sing on Sunday mornings, we’re not the audience—God is. But at the same time, we’re teaching one another. Being filled with the Holy Spirit involves “addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs” (Eph. 5:19). Congregational singing isn’t only vertical; it’s also horizontal.
Church isn’t passive entertainment as we watch the performer up front. It’s an active community exercise. Whether we sing an 18th-century hymn or a modern praise song, we’re exulting together in biblical truth. We’re taking ownership of the gospel proclaimed from the pulpit. Just as we affirm the historic creeds or an article of our church’s statement of faith, so we affirm biblical truth in every song we sing. Since all believers possess the Spirit (Rom. 8:9), we all have something to offer in congregational life.
Our churches are echo chambers of God’s praise. Jonathan Leeman calls this “reverberation.” He writes, “Singing is a God-ordained means for echoing God’s Word back and forth to one another in a way that engages the whole person—heart, mind, affections, and will.” It should “echo out the church doors” and into our friendships and homes. This is why song selection is a pastoral responsibility: it involves teaching. Churches need theological heft when they sing, not mere emotionalism. We encourage one another through our voices, uplifting eternal truths about our risen Savior.
3. We sing because the end is near.
When Paul and Silas were locked in a Philippian jail and beaten with rods, Luke tells us they “were praying and singing hymns to God” at midnight (Acts 16:25). Not even pain, humiliation, or intimidation could prevent them from praising God.
As Christians suffer, mourning and lamenting are often appropriate. The diversity of the psalms teaches us it’s too early for triumphalism; this earth is no place for trite happiness. But as a general rule, and throughout the world, Christians are known for rejoicing. Down through the ages, God’s people have sung heartily—even during excruciating trials. As Christopher Ash observes, “We sing not because the present is enjoyable, but because the future is glorious.”
As a general rule, and throughout the world, Christians are known for rejoicing.
Singing aligns our feelings with the sheer greatness of Christ and his gospel. Every Sunday, we reprogram ourselves to what has ultimate value. We hear the truth, and we respond in praise. We sing a new song to the Lamb who was slain to ransom a people from every tribe, tongue, and nation. We praise him because we’ll one day reign with him (Rev. 5:9–10). And when we sing, the world takes notice, just like the other prisoners in the Philippian jail.
A non-Christian from the Basque region of Spain once commented on how heartily our church was singing in Dubai. He was struck by the diversity of the worshipers—black and white, rich and poor, Eastern and Western—but also by the volume and joy of the singing. It made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He said, “I didn’t believe what they were singing, but they sure did!” Not long after, he was converted and joined our church.
Maximum Volume
I once owned a rock and roll album by the Canadian trio Rush. On the reverse side of the album, it said, “For best results, play at maximum volume.” This is what the new song of Revelation 5 calls for—exuberant singing by the redeemed to the Redeemer. I’m not specifically talking about the instruments. Anyone can turn up the volume on the guitar. The pagan world can do that—and probably a lot better than we can. I mean elevated human voices exulting with praises and joyous song.
William Tyndale, who was killed and then burned at the stake for his witness, once said the gospel “signifies good, merry, glad, and joyful tidings, that makes a man’s heart glad and makes him sing, dance, and leap for joy.” This good news of Jesus is why Christians will never stop singing, not even in eternity.
The Gospel Coalition