Over the last two decades, the look and sound of many local churches have changed, sometimes radically.

For example, almost every church had a pulpit and Communion table in front of the platform, a choir loft in the back and a piano and organ or other musical instruments on the sides. Depending on the season, lilies or a Christmas tree might adorn the platform, but otherwise, it was a static arrangement. House lights stayed on throughout the worship service, and the volume of the music never exceeded the loudness of the congregation’s voices.

Today, many churches have a dynamic platform presentation that changes often. The stage is set to match the theme of the week’s message or of the sermon series. Props change weekly. Lighting is often dynamic, with house lights down or dimmed significantly to illuminate what is happening on stage. The sound mix is studio quality, and the house volume is concert-level loud.

In this "Perspectives," two ministers offer contrasting, even contradictory, assessments of these changes. The first worries that they represent worship as entertainment. The second proposes that they invite people into multisensory worship. By juxtaposing these two perspectives on a church’s light and sound, we hope you’re able to develop an informed perspective on what your own congregation should do.

Perspective 1: Worship as Entertainment?
When my family moved to the city where we currently reside, we began looking for a church to attend. There are dozens of churches within close driving distance of our house, so we had our work cut out for us.

I noticed three things that worried me after attending a handful of those churches:

First, many turned the house volume so loud we could barely hear ourselves singing, let alone anyone else seated near us.

Second, those same churches dimmed the house lights during congregational singing but illuminated the stage with a variety of colorful floodlights, flashing strobes and even lasers.

Third, almost no one in those churches beyond the first ten or so rows sang. My family had a propensity to run a few minutes late — sorry, pastor! — so we often sat at the back of the sanctuary. On occasion, I would look around at the people near me, and the vast majority of them were staring wordlessly at the stage. They weren’t even clapping along to the beat.

Noticing this, I began to formulate what you might call the Inverse Law of Liturgical Sound and Light: The louder and brighter the stage, the darker and quieter the house. Stated differently, the more you focus on the presentation of worship music, the less participation in worship singing you will get.

I don’t attend church to see worship; I attend to participate in it.

As a Pentecostal, this pattern — which became more noticeable with every church I visited — troubled me. I don’t attend church to see worship; I attend to participate in it. I try to take to heart what the apostle Paul wrote in Ephesians 5:18b–21: “be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.”

Of course, I don’t believe that what I’ve come to call “the sound and light show” is a conspiracy of skinny-jean-wearing worship pastors to rob congregations of their voices. To the contrary, I think their intention is to focus the congregation’s attention on God. But the unintended consequence of turning up the volume and turning down the lights is the silence of a large part of the church. When the spotlight is literally focused on the platform, what’s happening in the darkened pews becomes an afterthought, if it is thought of at all.

There are places and times when it’s appropriate to turn up the volume and turn down the lights. At a music concert, for example, or a movie theater. When we do so at church, however, I can’t help but think we’re subtly communicating that worship is just another form of entertainment. And that worries me.

Perspective 2: A Multisensory Worship Experience
I grew up in a church where the worship team consisted of a song leader, a pianist and an organist. They never practiced the songs before they played them in service. The sanctuary was always fully lit with fluorescent lights. I worshipped, but it felt cold and sterile.

The church my family attends today is very different. Before we ever step foot in the sanctuary, we can hear the preservice recorded music spilling out of the open doors. There is energy in the halls.

Once the worship team starts to play and sing, I can feel the thump of the bass in my chest as spotlights illuminate the stage. I can literally feel my whole body being enveloped in the worship experience.

Some people don’t like the lights and sound as much I do. They’re worried these elements are more rock concert than church service, and I understand that. But shouldn’t church be exciting?

When unbelievers come in, I’d rather them wonder why we’re having such a big party than wonder why we’re being so quiet and solemn.

I think King David would be comfortable in my church’s worship service. When the ark of the LORD was brought to Jerusalem, David celebrated by dancing in the street, so much that his wife was embarrassed. He insisted that his extravagant and wild worship was justified because it was for the Lord (2 Samuel 6:16-21).

Isn’t it OK to crank up the music and sing loud to Jesus?

The Psalmist says, “Praise the LORD! Praise God in his sanctuary.… Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with timbrel and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe, praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals” (Psalm 150:1-5).

Church is the one place in our culture where Christians come together to celebrate God. When unbelievers come in, I’d rather them wonder why we’re having such a big party than wonder why we’re being so quiet and solemn.

My church family sings at the top of our lungs and jumps to the rhythm of the music because we’re excited that Jesus has set us free to worship Him. If we can’t do that at church, where can we do it?

Throughout the worship service, carefully programmed laser lights dart around the sanctuary, making the experience as much visual as audible. I love sensory resources because they engage multiple senses — after all — worship is about more than just singing.

Our God is the Creator. Creativity flows from His presence, so His Church should be the most creative and sensory place on the planet. I believe we honor God when we use music and lights (and other sensory resources) to worship Him and make His appeal to the world.

This article originally appeared in the June/July issue of Influence. To subscribe, click here.