“I feel my Savior’s love
In all the world around me
His Spirit warms my soul
Through ev’rything I see”
- I Feel My Savior’s Love
There is a subtle crisis in the pews of many LCMS congregations and LCMS youth ministry events. It isn't immediately apparent. The hymns are sung with sincerity. The praise band plays skillfully. The lyrics sound spiritual. Yet, beneath the surface of this polished and pious semblance lies a troubling situation: the uncritical adoption of American Evangelical contemporary worship songs.
But why is this such a concern? It is because many American Evangelical songs originate from a theological worldview that differs drastically from that of the Lutheran Confessions. For example, and generally speaking, American Evangelicalism often: holds a diminished view of original sin; embraces a cooperative understanding of salvation; emphasizes personal surrender to God; prioritizes emotional experience over doctrinal clarity; operates with a pragmatic “gospel that works” for evangelism, ethics, and activism; is shaped by rapture end times theology; is influenced by a name-it-and-claim-it view of faith; and lacks a sacramental view of God’s means of grace. (While not all strands of Evangelicalism hold to all of these elements, many exhibit one or more of them in varying degrees.) In short, the theological divide is profound. As a result, not only are the worship presuppositions different, but even the biblical words we share are often used in radically different ways.
Different Words, Different Worlds
Lutheran theology and American Evangelicalism may share some vocabulary, but this vocabulary operates within vastly different theological paradigms. This is a point I developed extensively in my doctoral research, "Becoming Lutheran," where I chronicled the difficult linguistic, emotional, and epistemological transitions that former Evangelicals underwent when moving into Confessional Lutheran theology. The issue is not merely semantics. More precisely, the meanings behind words matter. And here lies the problem: many LCMS Lutherans often naively reinterpret Evangelical lyrics through a Lutheran lens, assuming shared definitions. That is to say, many LCMS Lutherans sing American Evangelical worship songs on the coattails of Lutheran theology, without realizing the differences in the theological frameworks and language. For example, when some American Evangelical songs refer to the Holy Spirit, it is not the same Holy Spirit that we know from Scripture and the Lutheran Confessions. When they speak of grace, it is not the grace that flows freely from the cross into the means of grace.
As my doctoral research revealed, 84.2% of former Evangelicals who transitioned into Confessional Lutheranism reported that the primary linguistic challenge was that familiar words within American Evangelicalism had a different emphasis and meanings in Lutheran theology. The following chart provides a clear comparison of some of these words:
These differences are not superficial. They are manifestations of two different theological worldviews. In summary, American Evangelical songs may share the same words as Lutherans, but they are often embedded with a different set of assumptions, emphases, and definitions.
To further drive this point home, consider the lyrics of the song, “I Feel My Savior’s Love,” – the lyrics at the beginning of this essay. On the surface and from a Lutheran perspective, the song isn’t too objectionable, for it speaks of Christ’s love, prayer, peace, and service. The only consideration is that the song originates from the "LDS Primary Songbook." In other words, it is a song composed by and for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Yes, it is a popular song in the Mormon Church. Thus, when the lyrics speak of the savior, it is not the same Savior that we LCMS Lutherans believe, teach, and confess. When it speaks of love, it is not the same kind of love. When it speaks of the soul, it is not the same kind of soul.
Theological Naiveté
At the heart of this issue is a certain theological naiveté. While some LCMS Lutherans are unaware of the drastic theological and linguistic differences, others assume a kind of insulation. They believe that they have been rightly formed in Lutheran doctrine and catechized in the Small Catechism, which then leads them to believe that they can sing Evangelical songs without absorbing Evangelical theology. They believe that they can safely filter bad theology through their Lutheran lenses; after all, they know what they believe. But this assumption rides on the coattails of Lutheran theology, assuming that the average Lutheran will always reinterpret American Evangelical language through a Lutheran lens. It assumes that the theological differences will be easily noticeable to the untrained theological eye and can be easily discerned. These assumptions are dangerous, though.
Just as new converts from Evangelicalism to Confessional Lutheranism must undergo an extensive linguistic and epistemological shift (as documented in Becoming Lutheran), so too must long-time Lutherans be aware that words are not theological islands. Words are ships that carry meanings—sometimes foreign and hostile ones.
Playing with Fire
When it comes to contemporary worship songs from American Evangelicalism, we are not merely navigating stylistic preferences or musical tastes—we are dealing with theological formation. Worship is never neutral. The songs we sing shape our doctrine, often imperceptibly. They instruct. They imprint. They catechize. Doctrine affects practice, and practice affects doctrine. The two are so intimately woven together that when you change one, you will inevitably change the other. And so, to uncritically import Evangelical worship music into a Lutheran Divine Service—without first discerning the theological DNA pulsing beneath the melody—is not an act of ecumenical charity; it is pastoral negligence.
Make no mistake: when the congregation sings the theology of the Arminians, the emotional fervor of the Pentecostals, or the triumphalism of the prosperity preachers, they are not simply borrowing lyrics—they are absorbing worldviews, most of the time subconsciously. Views of God, man, grace, faith, and salvation are subtly transferred—not always explicitly, but certainly effectively. And tragically, as already mentioned, this often happens without notice. Many LCMS Lutherans may not know the names of the false teachers, but they are singing their theology.
This issue becomes even more alarming when we consider the native context from which many contemporary Evangelical worship songs originate. Picture it: the same song sung on Sunday morning in an LCMS congregation or sung at an LCMS event is also sung—unchanged—in a Word-Faith sanctuary or a prosperity-gospel auditorium. But there, in its native theological habitat, the song’s full weight is unleashed. The lyrics that once seemed benign—even familiar—are no longer cushioned by Lutheran definitions, surrounded by the liturgy, or buffered by the means of grace. Instead, they are proclaimed in a radically different theological ecosystem—one where man is sovereign, faith is a force, the sacraments are empty symbols, and the Gospel is a means to material gain.
If the average LCMS Lutheran were to step outside the familiar walls of their congregation and hear these same songs in their original doctrinal setting, they would likely recoil. They would hear the distortion plainly. But within the Lutheran parish—under the assumed safety of Lutheran liturgy and a confessional pulpit—those same songs are reinterpreted, sanitized, and absorbed. And this is precisely what makes them dangerous: their theology hides in plain sight, cloaked in the borrowed robes of Lutheran language.
Mark this: LCMS Lutherans are not immune. In fact, they may be especially susceptible, presuming that their catechesis or family lineage acts as a theological filter. But that is not discernment—that is complacency wrapped in a faulty view of tradition. Being a fourth-generation Lutheran is not the same as being a theologically cautious individual. This is playing with fire, and sadly, it is a fire stoked while resting on the coattails of a Lutheranism that others bled and fought to preserve.
Conclusion: Sing as Lutherans
The solution, dear brothers and sisters, is not complicated—it is doctrinally rooted and pastorally urgent: we must sing what we believe. That is, we are to sing hymns that are born from Lutheran theology—hymns that confess Christ and Him crucified, that rightly distinguish between Law and Gospel, that proclaim the real presence of Christ in His Supper, and that deliver the forgiveness of sins. Sing the Psalms. Sing the sturdy hymns of the Reformation. Sing the words that catechize the soul, not confuse it. In short, sing the faith. Not because we are curmudgeonly traditionalists or sectarian zealots, but because we are stewards—stewards of a sacred, confessional heritage centered in Christ alone, by grace alone, through faith alone.
So let us sing Christ. Let us sing clearly. Let us sing like Lutherans.
Or—God forbid—we will go on singing American Evangelicalism’s theology, riding on the coattails of Lutheranism, until those coattails are pulled out from underneath us—and we find ourselves no longer confessing the faith, but believing what we sing.
To read more on this subject:
Comments