“Are we singing songs about God (horizontal), or are we singing songs to God (vertical)?” This was a criticism of lyrics that explained theological truths about God rather than offering praise and worship to God.

I don’t know who started it, but soon all the lyrics began to change—including the experience of worship. The guys with a single instrument, vest, and permed mullet were replaced with worship bands. Songs didn’t start and stop—they drifted together fluidly with silence.

“Level Three”
The likes of “Pharaoh Pharoah” were replaced with songs believed to encourage direct adoration and connection to God. Worship leaders also started taking themselves very seriously—some even refused to work with teenagers because they viewed themselves as too sophisticated for that (“I’m a level-three worship leader” one guy told me).

Like all things “church,” I wonder if we took things a bit too far a decade ago; I wonder if it isn’t time to bring back more of the horizontal.
See, I love the distinctions between the two types of worship experiences, but we tend to favor one over the other—especially in non-mainline churches. Lately it seems church doesn’t have a lot of horizontal experiences—and that isn’t good.

Recapturing Hymns
Recently my grandmother passed away. During her funeral was the first time in along time I was in a church with other believers singing hymns. Just as I’d experienced in the past, the music was dated, the lyrics profound, and then there was something else—something wonderful I hadn’t felt in a non-hymn-laden worship service—we were a congregation singing together about God.

In many worship services when we sing songs directly to God, we do so as individuals who just happen to be in the same space at the same time. But I experienced something different singing “This Is My Father’s World” at my grandmother’s funeral.

In essence, our corporate singing was an act of “agreeing together” about what we believed in. We were singing to each other, encouraging each other with this shared truth. I felt proud that this was my father’s world, and I felt confident and emboldened remembering this fact. As I looked around the sanctuary, it felt like the Church, the Body, together.

Sadly I don’t sense that at many of the churches I attend throughout the year.
I realized then that worship music icons such as David Crowder and Chris Tomlin take moments in their concerts to have horizontal experiences. It isn’t about the process of singing the same songs at the same time; being together is what makes it powerful.

Verticalizing the Sacraments
But “vertical” is spilling into other areas of worship, too. Communion is taken in many churches as an individual reflective moment rather than the corporate sacrament it was designed to be. The Last Supper of Jesus and the disciples was done in community, not one-on-one.

I’ve also heard again and again that baptism is an outward expression of an inner reality.

Yes, we’ve even verticalized baptism!

An experience that was intended as a rite of passage into the Church, the Body, has lost its meaning, now turning into a vertical-only experience—something just between “me and Jesus,” not involving the entire community of faith.

Horizontally Challenged
Spiritual and emotional health comes when we’re in relationship with God and others. We need the horizontal experiences in our lives, too, and we need to have them in meaningful ways, not superficial ways. If we neglect either dimension of our spiritual lives, we’ll be found lacking.

Take note of the experiences in your own culture: Is there a lack of meaningful horizontal experiences? What’s the impact on the community as a result?
James 5:13-20 encourages meaningful horizontal experiences within the Body of Christ. We have a responsibility to each other, so let’s make sure to foster a healthy horizontal church culture.