Worship has been a hallmark of the Church for centuries. During the last decade it has been in a period of renaissance. Never has there been more access to create, record and distribute worship music. As Spirit-filled people, it is something we have been doing for a long time, but it is now recognized as one of the most important factors in building a great church.

While worship has grown to become its own genre, it has become a little predictable. Dark room. Colored lights beam with just a little mist to give them definition. Keyboard pads underpin the music to create flow. Drums start with “Four on the floor.” Singers are in their 20s, predominantly (or entirely) white. Leader leads from an acoustic guitar, backed up by several electric guitars and bass. It’s good; it’s just kind of … all the same.

 I know marketing has taught us to focus on appealing to one type of person. Usually that’s a 32-year-old white male who lives in the suburbs, makes $50,000 per year, and has 2.6 children. But I’ve never quite been able to reconcile that with the New Testament.

When my husband and I planted a church five years ago, we were leaving an established career in itinerant ministry. I had led worship for camps, conventions, women’s events and many churches. People were appreciative of how my worship leading touched their lives.

Then we moved to New Orleans. Up until that time, I had only known life in a progressive culture. Where change is good. Technology is our friend. That wasn’t the case in New Orleans. It’s traditional and historically Catholic; they carefully preserve the past. Change is met with caution. New Orleans was rich in culture, and I didn’t know anything about it. The music was funky. Everywhere you go, there is a live band. I have to admit I was a little intimidated because it was a type of music I didn’t know how to play.  

People would come on Sunday morning and say, “The speaker was great, but the music, I didn’t care for it. Not my style.”

Wow. That was humbling. Maybe even humiliating.

I was tempted to dig in and say, “This is who I am and this is what I do.” But God began to work in my heart. The verse that He spoke to me over and over was from 1 Corinthians 9:22 — “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might win some.” I began to realize people aren’t won by me or my style. Leading worship is about others experiencing the living God. It is the greatest privilege of my life to facilitate that for my congregation.

I started calling friends who were Catholic and asking them how they feel when they sit in a service like ours. “I like it, but it’s just so loud all the time. I miss the solemn atmosphere.” “It kind of all sounds the same.” “Why don’t we receive the Lord’s Supper more often?”  These were sincere friends who offered constructive criticism.

I began to realize people aren’t won by me or my style. Leading worship is about others experiencing the living God.

We added communion every week. We added a quiet, contemplative song during that time. We even added The Apostles’ Creed. Nothing makes Pentecostals nervous like quietness and liturgy; but Catholics love it. It wasn’t the whole service, but it was intentionally adding small, relatable elements.

I took some organ lessons from a guy in town. I learned the blues scales. Overnight, I started playing differently. Enjoying myself more. Embracing the style of the city. We started looking for worship music that was funky, but it didn’t really exist. So we started arranging music. Songs that my volunteer band had the ability to play, but they touched people here in a way we had not seen before.

It has become a fun challenge to figure out new ways to help people open their hearts to the presence of God. Setting aside my own agenda has helped me actually see them and what they need from me as a shepherd.

I’ve learned a lot about people living in a city as diverse and colorful as New Orleans. Diversity is race; it is age; it’s religion; it’s language; it’s economics, and so many other factors. It’s not about “going back.” It’s about creating something dynamic — something that reaches the deepest part of a person’s soul. I want to include styles and songs that we may have not considered, but others may hold dear. Gospel, contemporary, classical, funk; it all makes the corporate worship experience that much richer.

African-Americans have taught me to dance and praise. Older generations have taught me to love the hymns. Men have taught me to lead with boldness. Catholics have taught me to embrace silence. The poor have taught me to sing songs of hope.

This is the body of Christ, preferring others before ourselves. Let’s teach our people how to practice for eternity: Every nation, tribe, people and language worshiping Jesus Christ together.