Postmodern Worship?

I know I'm behind the curve on this one, but I'm at a bit of a crossroads. I don't know whether to continue doing worship the way I have or if I should change. Here's the situation:

I get frustrated with worship on the radio for several reasons. The one that applies here is that it all sounds the same. It has been my goal to take songs and personalize them along with the bands I'm playing with; I don't want to sound like something "regurgitated from the Nashville machine." I feel as a musician (and perhaps as someone who listened to Limp Bizkit's cover of George Michael's "Faith" in my formative years) that it's really important to take songs and make them our own because it gives the song real meaning rather than repeating someone else like a robot. To do anything else would be the antithesis of creativity, which is death to a musician (I really don't like the term "artist") and a disservice to the innate abilities God has given us.

On the other hand, these songs have meaning for thousands (millions?) of people regardless of whether they're generic or "cutting edge." Changing a song that means so much to someone is a disservice to them and could quite possibly hinder their worship (trust me, I've been a part of that before). We try to justify "updating" old hymns or altering newer songs by saying "the meaning is in the words, anyway," but that's not true. The meaning is in the melody, in the rhythm, in the harmonies. The meaning is really in the people.

The reason that I want to change a song is the same reason someone else is offended when I do it: the song's personal meaning is altered. On the one hand, I want to argue that changing the song creates a new opportunity for worship--a fresh encounter with God. On the other hand, there's a reason why "Amazing Grace" is played on bagpipes at so many funerals rather than being read aloud.

I want to say that being sensitive to the needs of others is the answer, but it's not. Someone will always be bored, be offended, be invigorated, be convicted, be challenged, be alienated, be drawn in. In a church so focused on every individual's personal relationship with God, how does corporate worship work at all? Does it? The Holy Spirit moves and unifies the voice of thousands, but there were scoffers even at Pentecost. As a congregant, my focus is but twofold; I have two questions to ask myself: (1) "am I really worshipping?" and (2) "is my mode of worship going to cause someone else to stumble?" As a leader or member of a worship team , I have to ask myself those, but there are others. "Am I worshiping alone or am I leading others into the throne room?" "Am I doing my best to lead worship in a way that is inviting to the most people possible in this congregation?"

It's this last question I'm struggling with right now.

Life of Luxury

I was laying in the reclined driver's seat of my car in the parking lot at college, reading a chapter from a book on cultural studies that I printed at school from an online student interface and listening to music on my new iPhone. I didn't know if I should feel blessed or guilty.

On the one hand, I had to stop everything and give thanks. After all, I could have been chained to a boulder somewhere, or working in some death camp in Siberia, or being tortured. Those are things I don't want. Instead, I'm at college, surrounded by technology that I take advantage of every day and think almost nothing of it. Realizing that, I started to feel the kind of frustration I have when I see a rock star smash a guitar or when an atheist gets on television and says that religion does more harm than good because it's divisive . . . only I was frustrated with myself.

I was born and spent my early childhood in a time before everyone and their 3 year old sister used iPods, DVDs, cell phones, the Internet, or home computers. Had I forgotten that life went on without our precious digital lifestyle? I remember going to the movies to see new Disney cartoons that were hand drawn. Now I get frustrated if I can't find what I'm looking for on Google Video (it's better than YouTube because it draws from more sources, including YouTube).

Everything about my college life is a luxury. I live with my parents. I work part time as a guitar instructor. I attend one of the better Universities in the country. I don't do manual labor for a living. I spend my time learning and teaching, both of which require a substantial amount of free time, which is a luxury. I am, at least in this way, a product of our culture. That which is a luxury becomes a privilege. That which is a privilege becomes a standard. The standard becomes a necessity, and the necessity becomes a "right." Demanding such a "right" develops the idea that the world owes you something, it's having an attitude of entitlement.

I am not entitled. I don't have to have it now if it will cost me with later with interest. I'll pay now by "sacrificing" a bit for a better future. As I have said before: I want joy on layaway, not happiness on credit. The U.S. economy has faltered because it's time to pay the piper for our credit debt; I am no more or less invincible. Therefore, I give thanks.