Singing with vigor and joyful abandon has always been one of the things we’ve tried to emphasize over the years. I’m usually especially rabid about it after going on vacation, having visited churches where all you can hear is the piano (or organ) playing and a few weak voices here and there in the congregation like night thieves sneaking around afraid of waking someone.

When we join these churches for worship, our family always causes “a stir” – not because we want to or try to, but just because we actually sing the hymns. Out loud. And the result is, before the fourth verse is finished, everyone in the congregation has turned around to get a sneak peak at the show-offs who’ve come to disturb the peace and serenity of the Quiet Waters of Tranquility Church.

Truth is, not many churches sing anymore. I mean, SING – singing the words of the hymn with something that approaches zeal, following along in the general proximity of the tune being played, and acting like they really believe what they’re singing. In some churches, nobody sings. Except the choir. Or the singers in the worship band. In other churches only the women sing – while the men stand, uncomfortably looking about with the same interest and enthusiasm they would have if their wives had dragged them to the matinee of La Traviata.

It’s a shame really. Given what the Scriptures teach about the importance and significance of singing.

It has to be an indicator of our spiritual well-being when the worst singing we hear each week is usually that which we hear in church. During worship.

But let’s, for the moment, put aside a full critical analysis of why this is so and focus upon one reason it is so: Dads – men – don’t sing anymore. And that has had many bad consequences. I was reminded of this after seeing an article by Trevan Wax, titled “A Dad Who Sings.” After mentioning the fact that his dad was always singing, Mr. Wax observes:

We certainly weren’t a charismatic family. We weren’t the type to raise our hands in church. We didn’t dance in the aisles. But I never remember a time I sat with my parents in church that they did not sing. Not once. Outside the church, Dad sang too. In the van, he may not have lifted his hands off the steering wheel, but he lifted the roof with his praises. He wasn’t a soloist or a choir member, but he was a worshiper. Dad didn’t see himself as being “above” praising the Lord. He didn’t see praise and worship as something unmanly. In fact, I remember how many of those songs celebrated the power of Jesus Christ over the principalities and powers of this world. The impression the songs left on me was that Jesus had achieved an important victory, and He was worth singing about and cheering for. Jesus was the Conqueror, so praise the victorious Lamb! Dad never had to tell me I should sing along. Much of what I learned wasn’t verbal instruction. I knew Jesus was good and powerful, not just because the Bible told me so, but because Dad sang about it so much. The impact wasn’t in him telling me that Jesus was everything; it was him singing it. For that example of faithfulness, I am, as one of those old songs said, “forever grateful.”

There you go.

Dads lead families. Dads often set the “tone” of the family. Dad’s example is always a powerful one – for good or ill. But dads often forget this and think that their lectures are more influential than their example. Wrong.

If you’ve been distressed over the poor singing in your church (or other churches) or in your family, here’s what you can do about it: SING. Sing loudly. Sing with joy. Sing like the gospel is true. Sing like Jesus really is alive. Sing like you would sing if you had been delivered from certain death and given unending life piled high with the most joyful things. Sing like you have been given the great honor of being adopted into the family of the King of the Universe.

Sing!

And your children will join you.

And, more importantly, they will learn about the One who is worthy of all praise. At all times. In every place.

And others will too.

And things will begin to change.

So . . . sing!