I grew up with a Methodist Church background. My great-grandfather, William Wesley Terrell was a farmer and Methodist preacher. So, too, was his father, my great-great grandfather, George Wesley Terrell. And evidence points to George’s father being a John Wesley-inspired preacher, as well. The calling skipped a couple of generations, but my oldest brother was also a United Methodist minister.
My family was not regular churchgoers, but that did not mean we were not religious. And when we attended church, it was often at the Methodist Church where my two oldest sisters were married or my grandmother’s Evangelical United Brethren Church. It didn’t make much difference because the services and beliefs were similar – so similar, in fact, that the churches merged in 1964 to become the United Methodist Church. Of course, now United Methodists are no longer united, having split because of differences on LGBTQ issues. Such has life become.
Traditional religions are now on the outs with many. Attendance is down. In place of established faiths, we now have megachurches. These are giant churches with more than 2,000 members, and some have as many as 25,000 or more. Many have multiple locations, with some having 20 – 40 separate locations. At those churches, pastors often address the multiple locations housing their giant flock on huge video screens. It’s like the congregation has come together to watch TV.
The church buildings look more like auditoriums than the little brown church in the dale. They resemble arenas more than cathedrals. If Ken Follet wrote an epic about their construction, he would have to focus on the number of churches and satellite churches built, rather than a single magnificent edifice that took centuries. (If you haven’t read Ken Follet’s magnificent Pillars of the Earth, put it on your list.)
I recently attended one of these megachurches with some members of my wife’s family, all of whom attend or watch services on television on a regular basis. That’s another factor in these megachurches. Many of their followers rarely, if ever, step foot in the church buildings. They sit at home in pajamas and slippers and watch services on streaming outlets such as YouTube. Even for those attending satellite branches of megachurches, pastors often address the multiple locations housing their giant flock on huge video screens. It’s like the congregation has come together to watch TV.
After attending, I recalled the old question from popular in publications in the 1950s and 1960s – Is God Dead? But I had a different twist on the question. Is God deaf?
Apparently, sometime between my youth, when services were dominated by soft music and silent prayer, and the present, God has gone deaf, or nearly so.
Music is an important part of nearly every church service. Certainly, all those I have attended. “Make a joyful noise.”
In my churches, the songs came from the Methodist Hymnal, traditional songs sung by the congregation or a well-meaning, although sometimes a bit off-key, choir. The singing was accompanied by a piano or a church organ.
At the front of every hymnal were John Wesley’s “Directions for Singing,” which first appeared in the 1761 edition of the hymn book used in Methodist churches. (For those who don’t know who John Wesley is, look him up.) Many of those who have long-attended Methodist churches are unaware of these directions, but some pastors looking for a touch of humor in their messages would occasionally point out Wesley’s directions.
The seven rules include the admonitions to:
“Sing lustily and with good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength. Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, than when you sung the songs of Satan.
Sing modestly. Do not bawl, so as to be heard above or distinct from the rest of the congregation, that you may not destroy the harmony; but strive to unite your voices together, so as to make one clear melodious sound.
Sing in Time: whatever time is sung, be sure to keep with it. Do not run before nor stay behind it; . . . And take care you sing not too slow. This drawling way naturally steals on all who are lazy; . . .
Above all sing spiritually. Have an eye to God in every word you sing. . . .”
So back to my megachurch experience, there wasn’t a piano, organ, or a slightly off-key choir in sight. Instead, there was a five-person singing group backed by a full rock band with a drum set, several guitars, an electric keyboard, and a bass guitar, all blasting through speakers set at full volume. Think I’m exaggerating?
Through my pounding headache, I pulled out an app on my phone that measures decibels. The levels it recorded ranged from 95 to 115, peaking in the mid-120s. On “quiet” songs, the decibel level ranged from 80 to 105. Even when parents with infants were called to the front stage, the background music reached 85 decibels.
Now I don’t have a problem with lively music. When I talk to people about the annual New Orleans Jazz Fest, I always advise people to spend time in the Gospel Tent, noting that even non-believers will feel the spirit in that music.
But this was something different. To put the megachurch music in perspective, exposure to 85 decibels can cause hearing damage in adults, while the level causing damage for infants is only 60 dBs.
A week before attending the megachurch, I attended the nation’s premier sportscar race, the Rolex 24 Hours of Daytona. This features four classes of race cars, including GT Prototypes that reach speeds in excess of 200 mph. Sitting in the stands, using the same phone app, the noise was at 90 decibels, well below the church service.
OSHA requires workplace hearing protection where noise levels are 85 decibels or higher. Power tools and motorcycles can reach 90-100 dBs (decibels). Rock concerts may reach 120 dBs. Jet engines on takeoff may hit 140 dBs. And for racing fans, top fuel and funny car dragsters reach an astounding 150 dBs – a sound that you feel more than hear.
What is lost in the updated church services is time for silent contemplation—a time to be at peace and to feel God’s presence in the silent places—not in the 120 decibels pounding of an electric bass.
With the proliferation of megachurches’ ear-splitting, head-pounding music, if God isn’t deaf already, He soon will be.
Can I have an amen?
