I read something this week from Joel Houston, one of the songwriters who has shaped a good bit of the worship music sung in churches like ours. He said Christian music is getting weird — and he meant it as a compliment. New sounds, odd textures, songs that do not fit the tidy radio mold. His point, as I understood it, was that when artists stop trying to copy the last hit and start listening for something fresh, the music comes alive again.
That made me smile, because it is a very old idea wearing new clothes. The Scriptures do not tell us to sing the safe song. They tell us to sing a new one.
The invitation to sing something new
Listen to how the psalmist puts it: "Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples" (Psalm 96:1-3). That phrase — "a new song" — shows up again and again in the Psalms. It is not a knock on the old songs. The old songs are treasures; I would not trade our hymns for anything. But God keeps inviting his people to write fresh ones, because he is doing fresh things, and a fresh mercy deserves a fresh voice.
Here is what I have come to believe after decades of leading worship in one room or another: the reason worship sometimes needs to get a little strange is that God is not finished. If the Holy Spirit is genuinely moving among us — healing, comforting, convicting, drawing people who never darkened a church door — then last year's language will not quite hold this year's mercy. New wine needs new wineskins. When a song sounds a little unfamiliar, it may simply be that someone was paying attention to what the Spirit is doing right now, and did not know how to say it in the old words.
Weird is not the goal — honesty is
Let me be careful here. Weird for its own sake is just noise. Chasing novelty is as hollow as chasing the charts. The goal was never strangeness; the goal is honesty. When a heart is honest before God, the song that comes out will not always be polished. King David danced in a way that embarrassed his own family. The publican in the temple could barely lift his eyes. Real worship has always had a raw, unpredictable edge to it, because it comes from real people meeting a real and living God.
I think of the folks who show up on a Sunday at Outpouring carrying a week that wrung them out. When they finally open their mouths to sing, it does not come out radio-smooth. It comes out cracked and true. And I am convinced the Lord leans in closer to that cracked and true sound than to any perfect performance. "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:18) — and the brokenhearted rarely sing on pitch.
Room for your song
So maybe the real news here is not about a music trend at all. It is a gentle reminder that God is still writing songs into people. He may be writing one into you right now — not for a stage or a stream, but for your own kitchen and car and quiet hours. It might be clumsy. It might be a few honest sentences you would never let anyone hear. Sing it anyway. He is not grading the arrangement.
And if you are in a season where no song will come — where worship feels like standing in a room that used to have music and now sits silent — hear this: the absence of a melody is not the absence of God. Sometimes the new song has to be carried by the people around you until you are ready to sing again. That is what a church is for. We hold the tune when you cannot.
God is not done composing. He is still, even today, pouring out his Spirit and giving his people fresh words for an ancient love. Let it be a little strange. Let it be honest. And let it point, as every true song finally does, straight back to Jesus — the one whose salvation we proclaim day after day.
Join us this Sunday at 10:30am — Outpouring Worship Center, Ravenna.