Mosaic (Part 2)

Worship

The space was pretty plain.  In fact, it was very plain.  There were large black curtains along the sides of the room and unadorned black wooden set pieces arranged around the stage.  The floor was concrete.  The seating consisted of rows of folding chairs.  There was exposed scaffolding from which the professional-quality stage lights were suspended.  It was . . . well . . . big box contemporary.  (See how that’s such an appropriate term?)  Of course, there were a few subtle differences here and there.  I noticed a sculpture over to the left of the stage that caught some of the gleam from the stage lights, and there was a stand in the back with paintings and other works of art by church members.  Again, the arts are a major focus for Mosaic, but a little more on that later.  There was another important deviation from the big box contemporary norm that caught my attention pretty quickly: the church members themselves.

Mosaic arts display

Greg and Erwin had encouraged me to sit near the front, so I grabbed a seat about midway up.  Of course, this meant that I had to glance over my shoulder frequently to see how the room was filling up, and with the dim lighting, it was difficult to assess the demographics of the crowd until after the service when the lights came up and I could finally stand up and turn around.  For the most part, people seemed about my age (mid 20s).  The majority were attired as I was (maybe a nice shirt, but otherwise casual).  Most seemed to be about my income level (student or young professional still hanging onto whatever cash had been saved up during a middle/upper-middle class upbringing).  A sizable number sported tattoos or piercings (don’t worry, Mom, I still don’t have any).  All of this squares very well with the big box contemporary norm with one major exception: ethnic/racial diversity.  Every big box I’ve attended so far has been at least 90% white, but this was not the case with Mosaic.  Black, Latino, Asian, White-- it seemed like everyone was represented, and the percentages seemed relatively close to even.  Sure, if I took a headcount, I imagine that there would be a white majority (or at least a plurality), but so far, Mosaic was dominating the multi-ethnic scene.  As diverse as the pictures on the Saddleback bulletin had been, it seemed that Mosaic actually was that diverse.

The band came on stage, and I noticed that same diversity at play.  The male worship leader and the two female singers were Latino.  The saxophonist was Asian.  The rest of the band were white, but they were of various ages, with the bassist, drummer, and percussionist all being middle aged or a little older.  They were all attired pretty casually with the exception of one of the guitarists, who was wearing a dress shirt and tie, the knot of which was loosened all the way down to the second or third button of his shirt in a rebellious, punk-influenced fashion.  People weren’t really singing much, and I wondered if this might be because the song was a relatively new one.  I hadn’t heard it before and had difficulty locating the lyrics online, which leads me to believe that it might even be an original by the Mosaic musicians:

In the morning when I rise

It’s You who gives me life

Gives me life, gives me life

I can’t wait for this day to begin

I can’t wait, I can’t wait

It’s You and me today

You are all that I need

It’s You, It’s You that my heart is waiting for

It’s You and me today

Yesterday is gone

Today I’m moving on

What I feel inside

Has made me come alive

The song had a typical contemporary feel to it-- fairly upbeat in terms of drum and bass, but also kind of on the mellow side.  In fact, it almost felt a little slow for an opening song.  Still, the musicians had been hard at work rehearsing before the service, and they were getting into it (which eventually helped the congregation get into it too).  As close as I was to the stage, I could actually see the sweat on the singers’ faces.  They transitioned into their next slightly more upbeat number, accompanied by clapping and raised hands from the audience.  It was a Chris Tomlin tune with quite a bit of repetition to it, and I think the congregation for a little bit more into it because of this:

We will sing, sing, sing

And make music to the heavens

We will sing, sing, sing

Grateful that You hear us

When we shout Your praise

Lift high the name of Jesus

What’s not to love about You?

Heaven and earth adore You

Kings and kingdoms bow down

Son of God, You are the one

You are the one we’re living for

The band continued to play a backing melody as Erwin walked out on stage with a microphone in his hand.  He fiddled with it a bit before getting it to function properly, after which the first words out of his mouth were, “Give it up for the band!”  There was a short burst of applause and cheering before Erwin welcomed us and expressed what a joy it was to be there together worshiping the King of Kings this morning!  As the band kept the beat, Erwin asked that we give Jesus our applause and our shouts of joy, and this was met with an even bigger response from the audience.  Erwin was pepping us up and getting us excited, trying to pave the way for the sermon that was to come.  Although I had been impressed with his friendliness and humility earlier, I have to admit that this was starting to feel a bit like a concert.  Still, it never quite devolved into the Erwin McManus Rock-and-Roll Power Hour, and I think the sermon actually brought us back down to a healthier level of reverence later on.  Erwin departed from the stage, and the worship leader resumed singing, leading us in a call and response as the band played a drum-heavy bridge:

Sing, sing, sing, sing

Sing, sing, sing, sing

Sing, sing, sing, sing

Sing, sing, sing, sing

Yep, it was definitely a big concert at this point, but there was also a spiritual vibe in the air, so I think that’s okay.  I have to admit that I am very ambivalent about singers trying to lead call and response sections though.  If done improperly, they have the potential to completely derail songs (as I learned time and again back in college when the lead singer of my old band used to attempt this on a regular basis).  In a worship setting, derailing the mood of a song carries with it a much higher risk since it can affect people’s communion with the Spirit, so I think a prearranged call and response between singer and audience is usually best avoided.  Thankfully, this congregation was responsive, so even though we were only singing one word together, it had an odd entrancing effect on the crowd, setting us all into a single rhythm together, culminating with a large round of applause.  The next song was a slow Hillsong ballad, and it featured one of the female singers offering a solo over a sparse unaccompanied guitar melody, with the congregation and the rest of the band joining in after a few lines:

You hold my every moment

You calm my raging seas

You walk with me through fire

And heal all my disease

I trust in You, I trust in You

I believe You’re my healer

I believe You are all I need

I believe You’re my portion

I believe You’re more than enough for me.

Nothing is impossible for You

Nothing is impossible

Nothing is impossible for You

You hold my world in Your hands.

Okay, you contemporary-haters out there have probably picked up on it by now: This music isn’t exactly the most profound stuff ever.  It’s catchy, but the lyrics are mostly very basic concepts about God and our relationship to God.  God created us.  God is our healer.  We sing to God.  You get the idea.  Still, I’ve made the argument before that the goal of contemporary music is not so much to present a deep and rich set of lyrics like a good hymn can; the goal is to pull the audience into a common rhythm and get them meditating on a basic concept together.  You don’t so much sing a contemporary song as feel it.  There’s a pulse to it-- a spiritual beat with which we must synchronize.  The reason that defenders of contemporary and traditional music so seldom understand one another is that they don’t acknowledge that their styles of music have different goals in mind.  Traditional hymns appeal to me on an intellectual level, while contemporary music like this is a little baser and more celebratory.  Both are good for the soul so long as you understand what it is that each style is trying to accomplish.  Some days I prefer contemporary, and some days I prefer traditional.  Of course, if you really want to make me happy consistently, just set traditional hymns to contemporary instrumentation.  Give me a rock ballad “Be Thou My Vision,” or maybe put “Of the Father’s Love Begotten” to acoustic guitar.  Personally, I think these kinds of hybridized worship songs are the best of both worlds, but I know that some of that might just be me.  I understand that contemporary instrumentation doesn’t meet everyone’s tastes and can be a distraction for some, just like traditional hymns can sometimes bore people or have archaic and esoteric words.  There’s a happy medium somewhere in there though, and if we stay open-minded and dialogue honestly about our preferred styles of worship and our reasons for liking them, we’ll have a much easier time worshiping together as one body.

Oops, went into kind of a mini-sermon there.  My bad.  Where was I?

The band transitioned into another more mellow song, and I noticed that quite a few more people had trickled in since the last time I had looked over my shoulder.  One of the connection team members had quipped that the service technically started at 10, but that people would show up at 10:30, and I guess I was seeing this in action.  On the big screens in the room, a message appeared at the bottom: “Preschool #506.”  I guess that, just like Mars Hill, Mosaic has a practice of giving the kids numbers so that parents can be summoned covertly from the service (rather than sending someone in to find them or simply putting their names on screen).  Mosaic has quite a few kids’ activities during the service, and this was not the last number that I would see on screen.  The Pasadena location is a little more family-oriented than the Mayan, so my guess is that their children’s programs are a little more in demand.  The band played on:

Who, oh Lord, could save themselves,

Their own soul could heal?

Our shame was deeper than the sea,

Your grace is deeper still.

You alone can rescue, You alone can save;

You alone can lift us from the grave;

You came down to find us, led us out of death;

To You alone belongs that highest praise.

You, oh Lord, have made a way,

The great divide You heal,

For when our hearts were far away,

Your love went further still.

We lift up our eyes, lift up our eyes,

You’re the Giver of Life. (x 8)

Sure, that last line was repeated a few too many times for my tastes (and I noted as much via a sarcastic comment in my little blue notebook), but it did get people singing.  The next song was one with which I wasn’t familiar, and I wasn’t able to track down the lyrics online.  It started with the lines:

Our dear Father,

Hold Your sons and daughters,

Make us Yours today.

As that was the only line that I wrote down, I don’t think there was much else to distinguish this song from the others.  The music at Mosaic wasn’t exactly monotonous, but the songs were pretty similar in style, tone, and content, which seems a bit ironic for a church whose reputation is built on being a diverse arts community.  The music wasn’t bad by any means, but I’ve just seen a lot more variety in other contemporary services (especially Mars Hill in Seattle, which might still get my innovative music award).  I found myself feeling a little relieved that we had arrived at the sermon.  Again, while I appreciate it and enjoy it from time to time, I don’t think I could do big box contemporary music every Sunday.