Michael Tang
Monday, 7 April 2025
Have you ever caught yourself thinking, ‘Doesn’t this worship song sound exactly like the last one?’ Maybe you’ve even whispered it to the person next to you in the pew. Well, I’ve got news for you – that nagging feeling isn’t just in your head.
Recent research has uncovered something that might surprise you: between 2010 and 2020, a whopping 95% of the most popular worship songs came from just four churches. Bethel Church in California, Hillsong Church in Australia, Passion City Church in Atlanta, and Elevation Church in North Carolina have dominated our Sunday morning soundtrack (‘The CCLI Top 100 Changed’).
When I first discovered this, I couldn’t help but wonder: is this really how the Holy Spirit works? Does God’s inspiration really flow primarily through four specific institutions?
That’s a bit of a wake-up call, isn’t it? Behind those emotional Sunday morning experiences lies a sophisticated commercial infrastructure – organised songwriting camps, professional distribution networks, and powerful marketing engines that determine which songs make it into our worship services.
Music publisher Primary Wave has even hosted songwriting camps specifically centered around existing hit songs, producing multiple versions of new worship material based on proven structures and patterns. This industrialised approach to creating worship music stands in stark contrast to how we often imagine these songs are born – as spontaneous expressions of devotion arising from prayer and personal encounter with God.
But here’s where things get even more interesting – this landscape is changing dramatically. Hillsong, once the undisputed king of contemporary worship, has seen its influence wane significantly. Their last major hit was ‘King of Kings’ back in 2019. Can you believe it? The church that brought us ‘Oceans’, ‘What A Beautiful Name’, and countless other staples is out of the mix!
Into this vacuum have stepped artists like Brandon Lake, Elevation Worship and Maverick City Music, while industry veteran Chris Tomlin has experienced something of a revival with tracks like ‘Holy Forever’ returning to the charts after nearly a decade’s absence. The worship music industry is experiencing its own version of musical chairs, but the game itself remains largely unchanged.
The market structure has similarly evolved. Capitol CMG’s dominance has declined from approximately 58% of the CCLI Top 100 in 2010 to less than 50% by 2024. Meanwhile, Bethel Music has emerged as a formidable force with a market share comparable to Integrity Music, while Essential Music (a division of Sony) has grown substantially, approaching 25% of the market (‘Following the Worship Money’).
As Thornton accurately observes, ‘The production of Contemporary Congregational Songs isn’t just a creative endeavour but also an industrial one with economic considerations that influence which songs receive promotion and reach our churches’ (Meaning-Making in the Contemporary Congregational Song Genre, 2021, p. 43). This business reality shapes what we sing every Sunday more than many of us realise.
Remember when Darlene Zschech wrote ‘Shout to the Lord’ all by herself? Those days seem almost quaint now. Today’s worship hits typically credit five or more writers – a dramatic shift toward collaborative songwriting that might explain why, despite new faces at the top, so many songs still sound remarkably similar.
Think about it – as songwriters move between different worship movements and record labels, they bring their creative approaches with them, creating a shared musical vocabulary that transcends organisational boundaries. It’s like they’re all drawing from the same well.
This transformation raises provocative questions about the creative process behind the songs filling our churches. As Thornton asks, ‘Does this multi-authoring of songs make them better? Or, does it make them less focused?’ (‘What on earth have we been singing’) When five different voices contribute to a single song, does this enhance its theological depth and musical creativity, or does it tend toward formulaic compromise?
Ever notice how most worship songs follow a predictable pattern? It’s not coincidental. There’s practically a formula:
- Start gentle with atmospheric effects
- Build gradually through the verses
- Explode into an emotional chorus
- Reach peak intensity in the bridge (often repeating a single phrase)
- Bring it all back down for a reflective closing
Sound familiar? Add in the standard four to six chords, rock band instrumentation, and liberal use of synthesiser effects, and you’ve got the template for today’s worship sound.
Phil Wickham’s ‘This Is Amazing Grace’ exemplifies these characteristics perfectly: it begins with gentle guitar, gradually adds drums and bass to build rhythmic tension, then explodes into a full band expression during the chorus. Later, the bridge section repeats ‘worthy is the Lamb who was slain’, further intensifying the emotional experience.
This formula works brilliantly at creating accessible, emotionally resonant experiences – but it also limits the range of musical and theological expression available to us. As these patterns become more entrenched, our worship experiences can become narrower and more predictable.
Technology has revolutionised not just how quickly songs spread but how they’re performed locally. Thornton points out ‘When songs are released these days, the MultiTracks versions are instantly available, alongside any number of versions of charts, and a plethora of ‘how to’ videos from various instrumentalists’ (‘What on earth have we been singing’).
Remember when ‘Shout to the Lord’ took four years to climb the charts after its 1993 release? Today’s hits like ‘What A Beautiful Name’ appear the same year they’re written. The acceleration is staggering and raises important questions: With songs spreading this quickly, do we have enough time for theological reflection before widespread adoption?
Thornton’s research reveals that ‘the pace at which churches are introducing new songs to their congregations has increased (by just under 30%)’ over the past thirty years (‘What on earth have we been singing’). This acceleration means we’re consuming more songs than ever, but possibly with less discernment.
The technology effect goes even deeper. When churches from Sydney to Seattle use identical backing tracks from platforms like MultiTracks.com, they’re not just singing the same songs – they’re producing identical sonic experiences. Even as song sources diversify, the standardisation of sound intensifies.
This technological standardisation raises profound questions about local church identity. When we sing the exact same arrangements as thousands of other churches around the world, what happens to the unique musical voice of our particular congregation?
Contemporary worship music tends to resonate more naturally with younger demographics while potentially creating disconnection among older congregants. My research shows this isn’t merely about personal preference; it reflects how deeply our spiritual formation becomes intertwined with particular musical expressions.
This isn’t just about liking different styles – it’s about how music connects to our very experience of God. When the worship music of our formative years becomes displaced by new styles, something more than aesthetic preference is challenged – it’s our established pathways of connecting with the divine.
Research terms this the ‘musical habitus’ – the ingrained musical preferences and dispositions that shape our spiritual responses. When worship music aligns with our existing musical habitus, it reinforces our religious dispositions and creates an integrated worship experience. When misaligned, however, it can produce feelings of alienation and disengagement (‘Habitus Formation’).
Let’s get theological for a moment. The four churches that dominated worship music all emerge from the charismatic tradition of Protestant Christianity. This tradition holds that ‘God becomes present in a ‘meaningful and powerful way’ when the congregation sings a particular style of worship song’ (‘This is No Performance’).
This theological position elevates music as a primary means of connecting with God, potentially supplanting traditional prayer, sacraments, or rituals. As Adam Perez from Belmont University explains: ‘The industry itself becomes this invisible hand. We don’t name the theology of praise and worship—we just assume it. And we use this kind of song repertoire to reinforce it’ (‘The CCLI Top 100 Changed’).
Content analysis reveals that few of the most popular songs address traditional Christian theological concepts like the cross or salvation. Instead, ‘A lot of it is, what is God doing for me now? And what has God promised to do for me in the future?’(‘The CCLI Top 100 Changed’) This emphasis on personal experience represents a shift from traditional theological emphases on collective redemption and historical salvation.
Yet Thornton’s research provides important balance: ‘Over 80% of contemporary worship lyrics contain more references to God than to the worshiper’, challenging the common criticism that these songs are purely self-centered (Meaning-Making, p. 165). By categorising contemporary worship songs into four main types—Praise/Thanksgiving, Prophetic/Declarative, Worship/Devotion and Prayer/Petition—Thornton provides a framework for understanding the theological diversity within the genre.
Through repeated singing, these songs shape our theological understanding in ways that often go unexamined. As worship songs become the primary theological texts that many Christians engage with regularly, the range of theological themes expressed through them takes on greater significance. They’re not just songs – they’re formative spiritual practices that gradually mold our understanding of God and our relationship with Him.
When I think about worship music, I can’t help but return to the Psalms – ancient Israel’s original worship songbook. What strikes me most is their incredible diversity! From exuberant praise (Ps 150) to profound lament (Ps 88), from historical recitation (Ps 78) to intimate devotion (Ps 63) – the range is staggering.
This diversity wasn’t accidental – it reflected the full spectrum of Israel’s relationship with God. The Psalms don’t shy away from difficult emotions or theological complexity. They include expressions of doubt, anger, confusion and pain alongside celebration, gratitude and joy. This comprehensive approach to worship created space for authentic engagement with God through every human experience. It makes me to reflect our worship songs should serve not merely as emotional experiences but as vehicles for rich theological teaching.
‘I will sing with my spirit, but I will also sing with my understanding’ (1 Cor 14.15) provides a biblical framework for evaluating our worship through the dual emphasis on both spiritual expression and theological comprehension. Paul recognised that emotional connection without intellectual engagement creates an incomplete worship experience.
Jesus taught that true worshippers must worship ‘in Spirit and in truth’ (Jn 4.23–24). This beautiful balance calls us to engage both heart and mind, both emotional expression and theological substance. Our worship songs aren’t merely what we sing – they shape who we become.
This insight should fundamentally change how we approach song selection in our churches. The songs we choose to sing Sunday after Sunday gradually form our theological imagination, emotional patterns, and spiritual habits. They shape our understanding of God’s character, our place in His story, and our relationship with both Him and our community.
When we select worship songs primarily based on their emotional impact or popularity, we may inadvertently narrow our theological vision. The repetitive lyrics and themes that dominate contemporary worship could, over time, create spiritual formation that emphasises certain aspects of faith while neglecting others. Like a diet consisting only of certain food groups, this imbalance may leave us spiritually malnourished even while feeling satisfied in the moment.
As church leaders and congregation members, we need to choose our songs with deliberate care, considering not just what feels good to sing but what forms us in the image of Christ. We should ask: What vision of God does this song present? What aspects of faith does it emphasise or neglect? How might singing this song repeatedly shape our understanding of discipleship?
Rather than simply criticising contemporary worship music, I believe we’re called to thoughtful engagement. However, I’m not suggesting we abandon contemporary worship music – far from it! But I am advocating for a more thoughtful, intentional approach that recognises how profoundly our worship shapes our faith. When we understand the commercial mechanisms and theological assumptions behind our worship music, we can make more deliberate choices. We can appreciate contemporary worship’s powerful emotional connection while supplementing its potential limitations.
In the end, the songs we sing matter deeply because they form us in ways that extend far beyond Sunday morning. By choosing our worship songs with careful discernment – considering their theological content, emotional patterns, and formative influence – we participate in shaping communities that reflect the full richness of life with God.
What worship song has shaped your understanding of God most profoundly? This is a key question we should ask ourselves.
Michael Tang is an award-winning scholar with industry roots. He blends theological insight with media expertise. He is the founder of ‘Life Seeks Understanding’, which enables transformational experiences for international students across three continents.
Image credit: Harvest Community Church Goshen Worship Service 1-24-2016. Wikicommons.
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