My wife, Malia, and I got married at United Bethel Mennonite Church in Plain City, Ohio, on December 31, 2022. The night before, I was excited, but I was also deeply nervous—a feeling that lingered into the next day. When the ceremony began, I ushered the matriarchs of our families down the aisle, took my place beside my pastor and groomsmen, and watched my beautiful bride proceed toward me on her father’s arm. Surely the nerves would dissolve as she drew near. Nope! But then came a moment of unexpected peace: the sweet sound of God’s people rising together in a cascade of voices, lifting the precious hymn, “The Love of God.”
The church didn’t just stumble upon congregational singing in the modern era—it’s been woven into the fabric of God’s people since the earliest pages of Scripture. The first recorded corporate thanksgiving took place after God delivered the children of Israel from Egyptian slavery (Ex. 15:1). The Apostle Paul exhorted the Ephesians to address one another in “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your hearts” (Eph. 5:19). The early church would sing Psalms and canticles, patterned after Jewish synagogue worship. Corporate singing pulses at the heart of the body of Christ.
The church didn’t just stumble upon congregational singing in the modern era—it’s been woven into the fabric of God’s people since the earliest pages of Scripture.
Directly prior to the Reformation, the Latin Mass was the dominant form of worship throughout Western Christendom. Among numerous developments and controversies, one practical barrier stood between the common worshipper and congregational song: language. Men and women in the pews understood little of the service because the liturgy was in Latin and there was minimal expectation of their vocal participation. Clergy-led performance replaced congregational praise. Rather than singing out of an overflow of grace through Jesus, the Mass was generally a liturgical performance, void of assurance of the matchless love of God. Rather than being active participants, God’s people became passive consumers.
Martin Luther embodied numerous concerns regarding the state of the Mass and its witness to the gospel. For Luther, song was a medium for believers to praise the Lord, internalize Christian doctrine, and unite with fellow believers. His biblical grounding for this conviction can be seen in texts such as 1 Peter 2:9: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (ESV). Luther didn’t believe in the erasure of church leadership, to be sure. Instead, he believed that as a royal priesthood, the people of God had the privilege—and the responsibility—to read, pray, and sing God’s Word as an expression of gratitude for His grace.
To reform the church, Luther translated the Bible into the vernacular, wrote many hymns, and advocated for congregational participation as New Testament worship: “I also wish that we had as many songs as possible in the vernacular which the people could sing during Mass…” The resounding cry of the Reformation was the recovery of the gospel and assurance of personal salvation—justification by grace alone through faith alone, a glorious truth. However, the recovery of congregational singing often goes unnoticed. God used the Reformation to place the hymn books back in the hands of His people.
Luther’s pioneering work in congregational song was only the beginning. Our Anabaptist forefathers possess a rich history of singing along the path of martyrdom—on the way to burning, drowning, or beheading. The Ausbund, the oldest Anabaptist hymnal, was largely composed by imprisoned Jesus-followers, many of whom did not survive their internment. For Anabaptists, congregational singing was not ornamental; it was confessional. Their voices were an expression of the core convictions that often gave way to martyrdom: a free church, a conscious decision of faith, holiness and discipleship, and non-resistant love.
I realize that for some, a “back to the hymns” movement may seem unwelcome. But I didn’t write this article to advocate for hymns, though I do love them. I wrote this article because it seems clear that throughout biblical and church history, God’s people have been a singing people.
In fact, the praises of the saints often accompany great works of the Spirit of God. Singing matters; singing congregationally matters; and singing Scripture matters. The early church understood this, the reformers understood this, and I hope we understand it too. Our voices have long been the primary instrument by which God’s people praise Him across generations.
Photo credit: Kristen Van Gilse Photography
One Response
Matt – I agree 100% with the thoughts you shared: “Singing matters; singing congregationally matters; and singing Scripture matters.” When the lyrics of our songs are fluff rather than deep spiritual truth, and when congregational singing is replaced by the performance of a gifted worship band, the church suffers.