deliberately create… space… as one of their
primary aims. I can feel that need in my core. I
need room to just be present in. To reflect and
meditate. To contemplate.
To wait.
So I can hear. So I can say something I don’t
know how to say otherwise.
And I tend to think that If I’m feeling that need,
I should probably follow the impulse. Maybe
you’re feeling it too. I guarantee you that many
in our congregations are feeling it.
We need to hear that space. If sacred music
is a form of prayer, then prayer needs that
breathing room. We don’t just speak, we listen.
We don’t just sing, we get still, and we get a
sense of the density and gravity of the moment.
We become conscious of our breath and of life
itself—biology and entropy and infinity, dancing
together. And from the midst of that moment,
something different happens. Something more.
Whether in how we listen or how we express
ourselves, we can communicate with a depth
we cannot articulate with mere words.
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness;
for we do not know how to pray as we ought,
but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too
deep for words. And God, who searches the
heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit,
because the Spirit intercedes for the saints
according to the will of God.” (Romans 8:26,
27)
If a service is full of words start to finish—
without stillness, without reflection and room
made to hear, I think we’re forgetting a crucial
component of communion together.
like an afterthought? Doesn’t it seem “tackedon”,
since that’s technically what it is? And
isn't there a special magic to songs written
specifically to hold that space instrumentally?
Do they not provide dynamics and a sense of
pause and rest that we simply cannot touch
upon otherwise?
It’s one thing to let a song’s bridge play out
seven times with singing and then a few more
instrumentally.
It’s another thing entirely to construct a song
as though each chord change and each
instrument had something to say all on its own.
And to design that song so that the music isn’t
just how we express what we know we’d like
to express, but how we express the things we
cannot express any other way.
So my encouragement for this time is to
deliberately write some… space. To leave
some… room. The music itself has the power
to glue us together in a sacred moment, and
we can honor that.
There is such freedom in that process. Such
collaboration. Even naming an instrumental
song is a delightful and refreshing experience
compared to a song with words. You can name
it by its tone and its spirit and its atmosphere,
rather than by a phrase you kind of feel like you
have to title it with.
Chord progressions can exist without words
on top of them. Lead lines can be played for
a sense of melody or to enhance movement.
Voices can be used as instruments. And we are
blessed in our time with the technology to easily
hold any sort of space we want to hold. Pads,
loops, ambient swells, and textures of every
variety abound.
[This article continues my current “Making
Room” series for songwriters. For further
exploration within this stream, see the WM
Mag May issue for “Making Room For Lament,”
and the June issue for “Making Room for
Questions.”]
Sigur Ros
Olafur Arnalds
And yes, I know that any song can be arranged
to hold the sort of space I’m talking about.
You can take any song and add instrumental
sections. Sure. And that’s a great thing to do.
It’s just that I wonder: If that’s the extent of how
we approach instrumental music, doesn’t it feel
We just have to make room for them.
In the rush and frenzy of all our hurried writing
and arranging and planning, don’t forget to
make room.
Hillsong Young & Free
Kevin MacDougall
Worship leader, published and recorded songwriter,
musician and podcast producer.
[email protected]
July 2020
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