How Worship Songs Teach

It’s easy to assume that in a typical charismatic evangelical church service, the “teaching slot” is the sermon. That isn’t wrong, but preachers (and I include myself here) probably overrate the impact of what they are teaching, while worship leaders—and this is the rub—often underrate the impact of what they are teaching, and without necessarily realising that they’re teaching at all. Indeed, everything that’s said and done from the front, and how it’s said and done, teaches something in some way.

As preachers, we usually teach on something once, perhaps with a small degree of repetition if it’s part of a series. But no one wants to leave our service complaining, “We heard that talk two weeks ago!” Yet when we sing the same worship song, people don’t bat an eyelid—especially if it’s firmly in the “I love that one!” category.

Here’s the key point: we retain only a small part of what we hear once, but we retain a great deal of what we hear often and repeatedly. A worship song lyric sung twenty times across the year will shape our beliefs more than a sermon preached once. This effect is further reinforced when we sing those lyrics to ourselves during the week or listen to recordings at home or in the car.

We tend to assume that worship song lyrics have already passed through numerous quality-control filters—the songwriters, the publishing company, the denomination, our pastors and worship leaders—so the theology they reflect must be sound.

Unlike with a sermon, a worship song easily becomes fixed in our memory if we like the tune and arrangement (most sermons, by contrast, have nothing comparable to accompany them, save perhaps for the occasional memorable PowerPoint image).

In short—and perhaps shockingly—worship lyrics are often more formative for our Christian faith than sermon content. The theology implicit in songs slips past our critical filters more easily—pastors’ and worship leaders’ included—much as we may not pay close attention to the theology implicitly being taught in children’s groups in the same way we do for adult sermons.

This means that worship leaders are not merely supporting Sunday morning theological teaching, they are delivering Sunday morning theological teaching. And in terms of what is absorbed and remembered by congregations, they are often doing it more effectively than those preaching! A theologically weak lyric, repeated regularly, will quietly undermine a theologically strong sermon preached once. People forget sermons, but they remember what they sing.

This is why “Christian catchphrases” (that we discussed last week) are so effective, for better or worse. They function like lines from a song lyric.

At this point, you may be thinking, “This is intriguing—tell me more, with some examples.” Or, “Typical theologian—you’re just being picky and fussy about wonderful, encouraging songs that people love singing.” That’s a fair concern, so let me clarify a couple of things.

I am entirely in favour of songwriters using creative contemporary metaphors to convey theological truth. Their metaphors do not need to be copied and pasted from the Bible; there is nothing magical about a biblical metaphor per se, nor anything inherently flawed about a metaphor that doesn’t appear in Scripture. In fact, I’m often more critical of songs that heap up supposedly “biblical” phrases and images, as though this alone guarantees sound theology, which it most certainly doesn’t. So please keep being creative.

But songwriters and worship leaders should also engage with trusted theologians within their own ecclesial context. A song’s lyrics may have passed muster in its originating setting, but that does not mean they will be consonant with your own church’s theology. When those contexts are mismatched, congregations are left confused.

I’m conscious of the need to balance theological correctness with simplicity, memorability, and singability—and that’s no easy task. It’s entirely reasonable to expect a worship song to reflect all of these features. But given the power of a song’s theology to shape our beliefs and expectations, we need to move beyond dismissing thoughtful theological critique as merely “picky” or “fussy.”

Worship songs do not emerge from a theological vacuum. They are shaped by particular church movements, leadership cultures, and, at times, wider political and social commitments. In some streams—such as Bethel/Jesus Culture/Elevation Music and associated networks—worship language is often intertwined with a “kingdom now” theology, New Apostolic Reformation “Seven Mountains” dominion theology and, in some cases, Christian nationalism. Elsewhere, they may be shaped by distinctly Calvinist/Reformed doctrines, or by prosperity-gospel Word of Faith teachings. None of these influences are neutral, or simply “Christian”. When songs travel beyond their originating context, they inevitably carry their theological and ideological assumptions with them—often unnoticed by those choosing them for use in their own churches.

Let’s look at a few examples.

“All my life, you have been faithful . . . so, so good”

(Goodness of God)

As someone’s personal testimony, this lyric may be entirely true. In a comfortable, middle-class congregation, it may reflect the experience of many or even most worshippers. It can also function as an encouragement to “count our blessings”—to recognise that there is always something for which to be thankful. These are genuine positives.

The problem arises when a personal testimony becomes a congregational theological declaration. This line implies not only that such an experience may be true, but that it ought to be the normative Christian experience. It is doing more than merely encouraging aspiration. 

We need to ask what expectations of God and of Christian life are being formed here. How does this lyric land for those whose lives are marked by tragedy, illness, trauma, or persistent struggle? What happens when someone cannot sing these words honestly? A lyric that sits well with some will be painful for others—and worship leaders are not called to speak only for the winners in life.

Over-realised eschatology

One recurring emphasis in much Bethel-influenced music that worship leaders need to be alert to is a strong “kingdom now” or “victorious life” theology, in which blessings promised in the future kingdom are presented as being significantly available in the present, often implicitly tied to the presence (or absence) of sufficient so-called “faith” to receive them.

This is firmly rooted in prosperity-gospel Word of Faith teaching—less crudely stated in Bethel, perhaps, but still clearly recognisable for what it is. The technical theological term for this is an over-realised eschatology: claiming as available for the believer “now” what Scripture places in a “not yet” (future) category.

“All Your promises are yes and amen”

(Yes and Amen)

Here’s an example of that. The lyric appears superficially to be biblically grounded (as deriving from 2 Corinthians 1:20), but that’s a misreading. The Apostle Paul’s point was not that every biblical promise is immediately available to individual believers, but that every promise God has made finds its fulfilment and coherence in Christ. The “Amen” in the verse is being spoken by us in response to that—us agreeing that this is what God has done in Christ.

Once that phrase is lifted out of its context (especially when, as here, it’s also being misquoted), it’s inviting a “name it and claim it” approach to Scripture—encouraging believers to treat any and every promise they find anywhere in its pages as directly applicable to themselves right here and now, irrespective of its original context, audience, or timing. Yet the Scriptures in general—and promises in particular—only function normatively (as the inspired Word of God) when they’re being read, interpreted, and applied in ways that are consonant with their original meaning-in-context.

“Till on that cross… the wrath of God was satisfied”

(In Christ Alone)

This line alludes to a specific doctrinal perspective—called “penal substitutionary atonement” (or “PSA”)—that is closely associated with conservative Reformed theology. Although it reflects one way that the cross has been understood within Christianity, it is by no means the only model, nor is it the best attested in Scripture; still less has it ever been a required belief within historic Christian orthodoxy.

Worse still, no biblical text explicitly speaks of the cross as “satisfying” something called “God’s wrath,” and the imagery risks portraying an unbiblical intra-Trinitarian conflict in which the Father derives “satisfaction” from pouring out his righteous anger on his innocent Son to fulfil some essential divine judicial purpose. Dividing Father and Son in that way completely violates orthodox Trinitarian theology. 

When worship leaders select this song, they are unwittingly affirming a particular Calvinist/Reformed way of presenting the atonement—likely without realising there are numerous alternative biblical understandings (most of which will make far more sense to people in today’s world). It also promotes an unbiblical understanding of wrath as seething divine retributive anger. 

“You didn't want heaven without us, so Jesus, you brought heaven down”

(What a Beautiful Name)

This lyric, in an otherwise commendable song, is more clumsy than overtly dangerous, but it is still theologically confused. The implication is that God was lacking something in the absence of people. However, the Christian doctrine of God has always insisted that God is not dependent on creation for fulfilment, companionship, or completion. God creates and redeems not because of a personal need, but an overflowing love.

The second confusion is the suggestion that, in the incarnation, Jesus was “bringing heaven down.” The incarnation is not a relocation of heaven to earth; it’s the Second Person of the Trinity bringing the personal presence of God into human life and experience. Scripture certainly speaks of the kingdom of God coming in Jesus’ ministry, but it neither fuses nor confuses heaven, kingdom, and the incarnation in this way.

(The lyric also begs the question: Did the risen and ascended Jesus take heaven back with him, or leave it here?)  

It may be objected that these lyrics are simply poetic ways of saying that God loved us and wanted us to be with him, and that Jesus’ coming inaugurated the kingdom; and this may have been the writer’s intent, just expressed very poorly. Poetic though it may be, poetic language still teaches. Song theology doesn’t get a free pass just because it’s poetic. This line is subtly reshaping its hearers’ understanding of God’s motivation, nudging us towards a God who needs us and a Jesus who came to “bring heaven” to earth rather than God’s incarnate presence to earth.

Worship lyrics do not just express devotion, they inform theology. When sung repeatedly, they do not merely express beliefs they shape beliefs, and not always in healthy ways. Sometimes, the attractiveness of a song’s musical style and arrangement can divert attention from those things.

Final Thoughts

I’m aware that a lot of this may just sound picky. But James does warn that teachers will be judged more strictly (James 3:1), and worship leaders and songwriters are teachers, whether they intend to be or not. They teach not by explanation but by repetition. Worship leaders choosing a song are “platforming”—and by implication, affirming—its theological statements.

Worship leaders and pastors should therefore be alert to the following in popular worship songs:

1. Lyrics overly centred on “me, myself, and I”, which are tacitly reframing our Christianity around our feelings, experiences, and personal needs. This is subtly reshaping worship into a form of spiritual consumerism, with a Jesus who provides me with personal spiritual blessings rather than the Lord we worship and follow. Watch out for songs in which we are the subject and Jesus in effect revolves around us (rather than the other way around). Note the extent of references to “me, myself, and I.”  

2. Decontextualised use of Scripture, in which “biblical” words, phrases, and images are lifted from their original settings and repurposed in ways that can end up suggesting meanings that are entirely different from how they featured in their contexts. Scripture only functions as the inspired Word of God when it is read, interpreted, and applied in accordance with its original meaning.

3. Lyrics that smuggle in questionable non-mainstream theological agendas, including, in particular, prosperity-gospel Word of Faith thinking, “kingdom now” over-realised eschatology, Calvinist/Reformed doctrines (which are not synonymous with “evangelical”), and in some streams, Christian nationalism, “Seven Mountains” dominionism, and culture-war ideology. Those beliefs may be sincerely held within certain movements or networks, but they are not simply “Christian” in a universally recognisable sense. When such beliefs are embedded in worship lyrics sung repeatedly, they are not neutral; congregations are being conditioned into them without even being consciously aware that this is happening.

Worship leaders may be horrified to hear this, but they are among the church’s most influential theologians! It’s a responsibility to take as seriously as we can.

Before platforming a song, I recommend researching some simple questions like, “Where has this song come from?” “Who wrote and published it (what’s their background)?” “How do its ideas sit with classic Christian orthodoxy?” “Does its use of “biblical” imagery and language conform to its biblical meaning and usage?” (Ideally, ask these questions in community rather than just as an individual.) 

Worship lyrics do not just express belief; they also form belief. Theological naivety in worship may do far more long-term harm than its pulpit equivalent, which is far more easily identifiable and hence avoidable.