Worship in the church should feel like a feast, not a sparring match. Yet all too often, we reduce it to arguments over style—hymns versus praise choruses, praise band versus piano, old versus new. What if instead we approached worship as a table set for every generation, every heart longing to encounter God?
Discussions about worship in the church are often framed as a battle between competing options. That language may capture certain differences, but it is ultimately misleading. Too often, the assumption is that tradition and hymns equal depth, truth, and faithfulness, while contemporary “praise choruses” (often said with a hint of dismissal) suggest shallowness, modernity, or a drift from the faith. Conversely, traditional worship and hymns are derided as dead, out of touch, and stuck in the past.
But this kind of language and thinking is not only unfair—it’s unhelpful. Every generation of Christians has wrestled with its musical language of worship, and every generation has produced both treasures and forgettable songs. (Just check out some older hymn books more carefully.) What we need is not a simplistic “either/or,” but a richer vision that embraces the breadth of what worship music can be.
Rethinking the Vocabulary
For starters, let’s admit that “hymns” and “praise choruses” are poor categories.
- Hymns are not simply just “old songs” from the past. A hymn is a form of music—a crafted text with poetic structure, meter, rhyme, and usually several stanzas that unfold theological truth. Some of the greatest hymns were written centuries ago, and we rightly keep singing them. But hymns are still being written today. Some modern hymns will prove just as enduring as Amazing Grace or Holy, Holy, Holy. Stuart Townend’s How Deep the Father’s Love for Us and In Christ Alone from Keith and Kristen Getty (with Townend) are just two such examples among numerous others.
- Other worship songs—often reductively called “praise choruses”—follow different structures. They may be more conversational, more repetitive, more responsive in tone. They can be simple refrains of love, longing, joy, or lament. But simplicity and repetitiveness isn’t a defect—it’s a biblical way of praying and praising. The Psalms themselves include both highly developed theological poems (Psalm 119) and repetitive, heart-cry prayers (“His love endures forever” repeats 26 times in Psalm 136).
So, when we say “hymns vs. praise choruses,” we are really confusing style with structure. What if we instead began to speak in terms of songs of declaration and songs of devotion? Or doctrinal hymns and responsive choruses? Or even simply historic hymns, modern hymns, and worship songs? This kind of vocabulary honors the full spectrum without diminishing any part of it.
In the Psalms, there are songs of praise, adoration, celebration, confession, theology, prayer, joy, invitation, challenge, exhortation, encouragement, surrender, obedience. And we can find all these same themes and postures in music throughout the history of the church, expressed in a variety of forms.
Learning from the Past
It’s worth remembering that much of what we now call “traditional” worship was once the “contemporary music” of its day. During the time of the Wesleyan Revival, the Church of England had a strong tradition of metrical psalms (singing the Psalms in paraphrased poetic form). When Charles Wesley and others began writing new hymns, their work was controversial. The hymns were often criticized as too emotional, too personal, and too different from the familiar psalms and formal texts that had long dominated English worship.
In 1738, shortly after his own conversion experience, Charles Wesley wrote And Can It Be. It’s emotionally vivid, experiential language—“Amazing love! How can it be…”—stood in sharp contrast to the restrained formality of the day. Devoted Anglicans complained that these new texts were overly passionate and not strictly Scriptural. In his journals, John Wesley frequently records critics accusing Methodists of “enthusiasm”—a term meaning excessive emotionalism. While this charge was broader than hymn-singing alone, the music became one of the visible flashpoints. Bishop George Lavington, a prominent Anglican critic, argued that Methodist hymns encouraged “enthusiastic raptures,” particularly among uneducated listeners.
In essence, the Wesleys introduced contemporary, experiential worship into their church life—and it created tension! (Worship wars aren’t new…) What we now treasure as gold-standard hymnody was once controversial and even suspect. The very songs we now hold as timeless pillars of faith were initially dismissed by those who equated tradition and formal structure with spiritual depth. Today’s tradition was yesterday’s pushing back against tradition.
This history reminds us not to value worship merely for its age, familiarity, or the nostalgia it carries from our upbringing. Form alone does not equal worship, no matter your preferred mode. As Jesus reminds us in John 4, the Father seeks those who worship “in spirit and in truth.” True worship flows from hearts longing to be in God’s presence, to hear His voice, and to celebrate with His people. It embraces both depth and diversity—songs old and new, poetic and simple, declarative and responsive—because our goal is not simply to preserve what we’ve always sung, nor to chase what is currently popular, but to encounter the living God together.
Bringing Music to the People
Interestingly, the instruments we now associate with “traditional” worship also have their own history of adaptation. The piano, now a mainstay in hymn-based worship, was not originally considered a “church instrument.” In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, revivalist leaders such as R.A. Torrey and Billy Sunday introduced the piano to enhance congregational participation and create a more intimate, responsive worship experience. Its versatility allowed worship to connect emotionally and personally with participants, aligning with the revivalist emphasis on evangelism, outreach, and heartfelt devotion.
At the same time, the piano was culturally accessible—it was commonly found in middle-class homes and thus socially relatable—making church services inviting to a broader audience. In other words, the instrument itself was adopted for reasons very similar to the reasons we consider contemporary worship today: connection, accessibility, and life-giving engagement.
This history serves as a helpful bridge for our modern conversations about worship style. Just as the piano was once a new, culturally resonant addition to church worship, so too are contemporary musical forms part of a long trajectory of the church seeking to reach hearts where they are. The tools, the formats, and even the songs themselves are not inherently more or less “churchly” because of their age or familiarity. What matters is that they help create spaces where God’s people of all generations and cultures can participate fully, encounter God’s presence, and respond in worship that is alive, deep, and true.
A Whole Diet of Worship
No marriage thrives on only one kind of conversation—long, serious discussions versus playful banter. A healthy relationship does both. Likewise, a spiritually healthy church feeds on both the theological depth of hymns and the fresh, emotional immediacy of simpler songs. The music itself is also diverse: choirs with vocal teams, bands along with organ or piano, quiet, pensive moments with energetic, celebratory praise. Alongside these expressions, vibrant worship flows through other liturgical elements—corporate prayer, Scripture reading and reflection, creeds, testimonies, altar calls, and even thoughtful integration of technology. The purpose is not entertainment or performance, but creating a space where all generations and cultures can participate freely.
Historic tradition without fresh expression can feel like a bridge to the past that no one walks across—worship becomes ceremonial rather than a living encounter with God. Contemporary expression without roots in Scripture and the historic faith of the church risks drifting into shallow individualism, untethered from the truth that has shaped generations. Without both, a church loses its anchor in God’s story, leaving hearts unmoored and the next generation without a faithful inheritance of worship.
When we embrace the full breadth of worship—historic and contemporary songs, quiet reflection and celebratory praise, choirs, bands, organs, corporate prayer, Scripture reading, testimonies, and even thoughtfully integrated technology—we create a feast rather than a sparring match. Worship becomes a space where hearts are nourished, spirits are stretched, and every generation and culture can join together in authentic encounter with God. Drawing from the treasures of the past while welcoming fresh expressions of faith, we cultivate a worship life that is alive, deep, and transformative—an offering of our whole selves to the living God, shared with joy across time and tradition.
