How Shall We Sing the Lord’s Song in This Land?
Joshua Taylor
Patriotism, Partisanship, and Worship Music in American Christianity
Introduction
On July 1, 2017, the First Baptist Church of Dallas Choir and Orchestra performed a new song, “Make America Great Again,” as part of the “Celebrate Freedom” concert held at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. The event drew national attention after President Donald Trump tweeted the performance multiple times, prompting both praise and criticism across the political spectrum.1 Shortly thereafter, the song was licensed by Christian Copyright Licensing International (CCLI), making it accessible to choirs and worship leaders across the United States.
Although the song—free of direct references to religion, partisan politics, or Trump himself—was presented at a patriotic concert and not within a worship service, the optics of a church choir singing a president’s campaign slogan reignited long-standing questions about the place of patriotic music in Christian worship. In an interview with The Christian Post, First Baptist’s senior pastor, Rev. Dr. Robert Jeffress, responded to the criticism, saying, “There is no difference in singing ‘Make America Great Again’ than there is in singing any other patriotic song, like the ‘Star-Spangled Banner.’”2
Religious music has often centered on national identity and geographic place. In Psalm 137, the exiled Israelites famously ask, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” Separated from Jerusalem—the site and inspiration for many of their psalms—they wrestled not with the validity of national identity in worship but with how to express it faithfully outside of its original context. Their question invites our own: Is the worship of God shaped by place and national identity? And if so, how should faithful worship engage these realities?
In the American context, sacred music has long reflected national ideals. But in recent decades, this music has at times hardened into partisan expression and even idolatry. Understanding the deep historical intertwining of sacred song and civic identity offers a vital lens through which to examine the theological and political formation that takes place in worship today. Churches are, intentionally or not, political actors.
At the same time, the very term America is fraught with complexity. It does not acknowledge the identities of Indigenous peoples whose lands were taken to establish the United States, and it risks conflating the United States with the entirety of the North American continent. This paper recognizes these tensions and the histories they represent. For the sake of clarity, however, the term American will be used hereafter to refer specifically to the United States of America and its citizens.
With these clarifications in place, we may return to the central question: So how shall we sing the Lord’s song in this land? Rather than simply ask whether patriotic music belongs in worship, this article asks: How do we sing such music faithfully? What lyrical theology are we imparting through patriotic song?3 The church’s song is an ecclesiological act—one that informs the church’s imagination of what it means to be Christian in a particular time and place.4
A quick Google search reveals countless opinions about patriotic music in worship. Regardless of one’s stance, the practice persists.5 Most mainline Protestant hymnals include at least some patriotic or nationalistic songs.6 This article does not advocate for or against the inclusion of such music. Instead, it explores how patriotic music can either support or hinder worship that rehearses the kingdom Christians are called to receive and proclaim.7 It also examines how such music can either cultivate or suppress multivocality—the ability of worship to reflect the diverse voices within the body of Christ.
Revolution, Identity, and the Sacred Soundtrack
Before, during, and after the War of Independence, both sacred and secular music helped shape American national identity. As Richard Crawford observes in America’s Musical Life: A History, “one claim in particular was trumpeted in song after song . . . our side is virtuous and right, the other side corrupt and wrong.”8 The texts of these songs often entwined worship and wartime rhetoric, enlisting God in the cause of national struggle.
Isaac Watts’s 1719 translation of Psalm 100 began with the verse “Sing to the Lord with joyful voice / Let ev’ry land his name adore; / The British isles shall send the noise / Across the ocean to the shore”—a poetic allusion to the naval might of the British Empire and the thunder of its cannons.9 On the other side of the Atlantic, William Billings’s “Chester” was unambiguously pro-American: “When God inspir’d us for the fight, / Their ranks were broke, their lines were forc’d, / Their ships were shatter’d in our sight, / Or swiftly driven from our coast.” The hymn ends by asking what offering should be brought in thanksgiving for God’s intervention. Crawford notes that “Chester’s text carries a proud, bitter dose of anti-British feeling that actually flirts with blasphemy by enlisting God on New England’s side.”10
Beyond individual songs, entire collections and hymnals also reflected emerging American identity. William Billings is often regarded as a founding father of American music, and his New-England Psalm-Singer (1770) was unapologetically patriotic. It was engraved by Revolutionary figure Paul Revere, published by sympathizers of American independence, and became the first collection of tunes by an American composer.11 These works helped define a new national voice in music—both literally and culturally.
Civil Religion and National Hymns
The invocation of God in nationalistic song has continued well beyond the Revolution. Julia Ward Howe’s “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” written after visiting Union troops during the Civil War, is one enduring example. Carlton Young, editor of The United Methodist Hymnal, has called it “the USA’s second and more singable national anthem,” noting its association with women’s suffrage, temperance, two world wars, Vietnam, the civil rights movement, and countless political rallies.12 These songs, deeply embedded in the American psyche, function not only as patriotic anthems but as expressions of civil religion.
That tradition continues into the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. From Congress singing “God Bless America” on the steps of the Capitol on 9/11 to the First Baptist Church of Dallas’s performance of “Make America Great Again,” religious music is often employed to reinforce or critique national identity. These performances range from solemn observance to overt political spectacle—each side at times claiming divine favor, each using music as a vehicle of both unity and division.
Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” is perhaps the most enduring example of this convergence. Associated with conservative politics and adopted by numerous presidential campaigns since the 1980s, the song has become a cultural touchstone.13 Katherine Meizel writes that the song “seems to be embedded in the nation’s collective subconscious, called perennially to mind at times when feeling ‘proud to be an American’ tops our cultural agenda.” She adds that the song “showcases the kind of passionately civil-religious discourse that has characterized the administration of America’s millennial transition.”14
John Rosamond Johnson and James Weldon Johnson’s “Lift Every Voice and Sing” invites a different kind of reflection. Written in 1899 to commemorate Abraham Lincoln’s birthday and later adopted by the NAACP as the “Negro National Anthem,” the song has long played a central role in African American public worship and protest.15 In a moment of rising political partisanship, both of these anthems reflect how religious and patriotic song can either enforce or expand the boundaries of civic belonging.
Worship Music as Formation
The German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, himself a trained musician, frequently described hymn singing as a form of resistance.16 Bonhoeffer understood music as a force that could either serve or subvert political power.
Similarly, Marva J. Dawn emphasizes the church’s double calling: to be in the world but not of it. “Believers in Jesus are called to live in the world. We do not escape it to avoid its contaminations and problems,” she writes. “But from the inside, we seek to understand it so that we can minister to its needs. Simultaneously, we struggle to reject its values and stay outside its temptations and idolatries.”17 Worship, including the songs we sing, is a central site of that tension. Music can reinforce cultural assumptions—or it can prophetically challenge them.
Taken together, these examples reveal that sacred music in America has never existed outside political life—it has always participated in shaping national identity and belief, whether through hymnals in the Revolution or campaign songs in the twenty-first century. This is not just a matter of content, but of formation. Worship—especially through music—forms how Christians imagine God, neighbor, and nation. What we sing and how we sing it creates theology as much as it reflects it. The next section explores this formative power more fully, asking what kinds of citizens—and what kind of church—the presence of or absence of patriotic music in worship shapes.
Worship Music as Political Formation
The ancient axiom “lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi”—“the law of prayer is the law of belief is the law of life”—paired with S. T. Kimbrough’s definition of lyrical theology (see endnote 3) suggests that the music of worship not only reflects the political and theological beliefs of the church but also actively forms them. In his book Becoming What We Sing, David Lemley writes:
Who we are, and how we relate to one another, is a confluence of believing, belonging, and behaving. Our worship together, then, in which we are gathered for a transforming encounter and commission, should call on us not only to recite but also to embody: to intend, to perform, to portray . . . we are participants.18
Musicking—Christopher Small’s broad term for musical participation—becomes one formative element within an ecological system of practices that shape not only theological but also political identity.19 In this light, music in worship is never neutral. It is the convergence point of cultural, political, and theological landscapes.
Recent political science literature affirms that the relationship between political ideas and religion is also not a one-way street; rather, religion shapes political values, and political values shape religious practice. In their article “The Politics of Church Shopping,” Shar R. Hafner and Andre P. Audette observe that “the specific religious family and congregation that an individual chooses to attend may impact their political values, their likelihood of participating in politics, and the manner in which they engage politically.”20
Given this reciprocal influence, the use of patriotic or politically charged music becomes a contributing factor in the political formation of worship participants. As liturgical scholar Don E. Saliers notes, “musical forms—especially though not exclusively texted musical forms—articulate communal emotions that the particular attributes of God and aspects of human life before God require.”21 In many contemporary churches, this convergence of liturgy, theology, and politics may be most evident in the relationship between Contemporary Worship Music (CWM), evangelicalism, and far-right political ideologies.
Contemporary Worship and Political Identity
The role of Contemporary Worship Music (CWM) in shaping political identity has been well documented by ethnomusicologists and cultural historians. In No Sympathy for the Devil, David Stowe emphasizes how contemporary Christian music has been instrumental in forming evangelical cultural identity, linking its widespread adoption in congregational worship to the broader project of aligning evangelicalism with conservative American values.22
This alignment is not incidental. As studies in political science and sociology show, the growing entanglement of conservative politics with the Christian Right has driven some people away from organized religion altogether.23 Yet CWM continues to function as a potent vehicle for advancing a particular ideological vision within evangelical spaces. Kristin Kobes du Mez, in her book Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation, argues that the rise of conservative evangelical dominance relied not only on political alliances and strategic institutions but “critically, by dominating the production and distribution of Christian consumer culture.”24 In this context, music becomes more than artistic expression—it becomes ideological infrastructure.
The influence of CWM extends beyond song selection or musical style to the very language it employs. In a recent Call to Worship article, “Militant Masculinity in Contemporary Worship Music,” T. J. Shirley observes that even the use of the word “Lord” carries political and theological weight within evangelical worship, often reinforcing hierarchical power structures and authoritarian divine imagery that mirror political ideals.25 Worship, in this framing, not only honors God but subtly instructs congregants in how power and authority should operate.
What emerges, then, is not merely a question of which songs are used in worship, but how music functions as a conduit for political ideology—particularly through the mechanisms of consumer culture.26 As David Lemley argues, the economic and social choices individuals make around worship music are shaped by larger forces, becoming part of a “formational process” that influences how people relate to God, to one another, and to the world. These choices are not confined to aesthetic preferences but are deeply embedded in the marketplace of Christian identity. It is here, at the intersection of worship and consumption, that the church begins to function as a political actor within the consumer arena.27
Church as Political Actor and Consumer Arena
Churches function as spaces of encounter where ideas of citizenship, belonging, and national identity are shaped—making them not only theological communities but also political actors and agents within consumer culture. In their article “Immigration, Places of Worship and the Politics of Citizenship in the US South,” Patricia Ehrkamp and Caroline Nagel examine how civic engagement and citizenship values are cultivated within faith communities. Their research suggests that the embodied practices of worship—such as music, ritual, and communal movement—can generate political agency, spark civic debate, and shape moral and social narratives around belonging.28
Given this, and in light of the influence of Contemporary Worship Music outlined in the previous section, it becomes increasingly difficult to understand the church as anything other than a political actor. Music—patriotic or otherwise—functions as a tool of both formation and influence within that political role.
This realization returns us to Marva Dawn’s theological framework: how can the church live in the world but not be of the world? The question of whether or not to include patriotic music in worship is anything but binary. Dawn writes:
To maintain this dialectical tension of being in and not of, the Church’s worship must be upside-down (at least in the world’s eyes)—turning the culture’s perspective on its head (thinking from God’s revelation rather than human knowledge), teaching an opposite set of values (loving God and others instead of self), enabling believers to make authentic differences in the world.29
The challenge, then, is not simply whether patriotic music should be included in worship, but how churches reflect theologically on the implications of doing so. The convergence of cultural and theological landscapes creates both risk and possibility.30 To answer the question “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in this land?” requires further theological discernment.
Theological Reflections: Bonhoeffer and the Danger of Music Untethered from the Word
Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s limited but incisive writings on music provide a meaningful entry point for theological reflection on patriotic song.31 Having witnessed firsthand how music was co-opted as propaganda under the Nazi regime, Bonhoeffer understood both the persuasive power of music and its potential to resist. In one lecture he remarked, “The ancient Christians [protesting against the rule of state power] were still singing even as they were being thrown to the lions.”32 Worship, in this frame, is not passive expression but active theological and political resistance.
This raises the question: how should music be understood within the context of worship? Bonhoeffer critiques what he called “thinking in two spheres”—the separation of sacred and secular life—and insists instead on a theological unity.33 For Bonhoeffer, music’s value is not defined by its genre or context, but by its connection to the Word of God.34 In The Prayer Book of the Bible, he writes that what alone is important “is that we begin anew with confidence and love to pray the Psalms in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”35
While Bonhoeffer’s framework may feel more restrictive than the diverse musical repertoires found in many postmodern worship settings, his core conviction—that music unmoored from the Word can become spiritually dangerous—remains a powerful challenge for worship planners and congregations.36 Music, he suggests, is the “work” of theology, but when grounded in Scripture, it offers a “foretaste of heavenly music.”37
Bonhoeffer’s insights echo those of Augustine, who wrote:
I feel that when the sacred words are chanted well, our souls are moved and are more religiously and with warmer devotion kindled to piety than if they are not so sung. All the diverse emotions of our spirit heave their various modes in voice and chant appropriate in each case, and are stirred by a mysterious inner kinship.38
David Lemley expands on this theological posture by emphasizing that worship is never merely performance. He writes, “Theologically, we pose questions about performance as worship because we assume worship is more than a song alone. Music is one act that focuses our response to God, but worship is a life offered to God in every thought and deed. Worship is also part of a participatory geography that gives it meaning: the kingdom of God.”39
Taken together, Bonhoeffer, Augustine, and Lemley suggest that evaluating the use of patriotic music in worship must move beyond surface aesthetics or cultural preference. The central concern becomes theological: Does this music cultivate a connection to the Word? Does it support God’s reign or reinforce worldly power? Does it resist injustice or merely reinforce cultural dominance? These are the critical questions as we now turn to worship as protest—and the danger of idolatry in patriotic song.
Worship and Music as Protest
While patriotic music often celebrates the nation and its ideals, worship music has historically served another function: protest. Singing in worship is not only an act of praise—it can also be a form of theological resistance. Walter Brueggemann puts it succinctly: “The worship of God’s people is praise, not only toward God, but also against the god.”40 Marva Dawn echoes this, asserting that true worship confronts rival powers—whether political, economic, or cultural—that claim ultimate authority.41
Dietrich Bonhoeffer recognized this in the witness of the early church. As noted earlier, he described how the first Christians were “still singing even as they were being thrown to the lions.” For them, worship was not cultural affirmation but defiance in the face of empire. Marva Dawn expands on this insight, warning that when worship affirms dominant ideologies without critique, it ceases to be faithful and becomes “liturgical compliance.” Faithful worship, she argues, must resist the idols of the age—consumerism, nationalism, and militarism among them.
These insights raise urgent questions: When we sing in worship, are we praising God? Protesting against false gods? Or reinforcing the narratives of empire? The answer depends less on musical style and more on theological substance.
At this point, it is worth revisiting “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” The hymn exemplifies worship as both remembrance and resistance. It does not glorify national perfection; instead, it names struggle, hope, and the enduring longing for justice. In doing so, it offers a model of patriotic song that resists triumphalism and invites theological depth.
This stands in contrast to Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.,” which strikes a more triumphalist and uncritical tone. Is one right and the other wrong? Bonhoeffer’s theology offers a helpful criterion: the faithful song is the one that points not to the past glories of a nation, but forward to the reign of Christ. “We are not allowed to look back except to the cross of Christ,” he writes. “Nor are we allowed to look into the future except to the Last Judgment. And so we have been made free to praise and to sing!”42
How, then, shall we sing the Lord’s song in this land? Theological reflection suggests that the answer lies in choosing music that resists idolatry—especially the idolatry of nation—and instead centers worship on the reign of God.
The Risk of Idolatry: When Nation Becomes God
Any inclusion of patriotic music in worship carries the inherent risk of exalting the nation above God—a violation of the First Commandment.43 Beyond theological concerns, such music can also propagate harmful tropes tied to racism, xenophobia, or the demonization of “the other.”
Katherine Meizel, writing on the cultural power of patriotic music, notes that during its early popularity, “‘God Bless America’ embodied the longstanding conflict between the nation’s xenophobia du jour and the significance of immigration in its lovingly cultivated American Dream.”44 Scholar Gabriel Rossman similarly critiques Henry Ford’s racialized support of “old-timey” music in the 1920s, portraying it—and the patriotism it carried—as the essence of white America, while implicitly associating other musical genres with leftist politics.45
Hymnologist Carl P. Daw Jr. raises another concern in his commentary on “America the Beautiful.” He notes that the third stanza—“pilgrim feet [that] . . . a thoroughfare for freedom beat / across the wilderness”—glorifies the westward expansion of European-based culture at the expense of Native American communities.46 As discussed earlier, T. J. Shirley’s analysis of the term “Lord” in Contemporary Worship Music also highlights how liturgical language can reinforce nationalistic and hierarchical worldviews.
Taken together, these examples underscore the ethical and theological hazards of patriotic music in worship—particularly when it reinforces national identity without critique. And yet, patriotic music is not inherently incompatible with Christian worship. Its long tradition and emotional resonance with many congregants make it a meaningful part of worship for some communities. This tension calls for careful discernment.
The question, then, is not simply whether such music should be used, but how it might be used faithfully.
Toward a Faithful Use of National Song in Worship
The question is no longer whether patriotic music belongs in worship, but how it might be employed in ways that honor God without exalting nation above kingdom. As hymnologist Carl Daw rightly observes, such songs must be framed theologically, not triumphantly. Reflecting on “America the Beautiful,” he writes:
The principal concept that needs to govern the singing of this national song in worship is that it is a prayer rather than a football cheer. The central expression of this understanding comes in the repeated “America, America!” of the third phrase, which is not to be sung boastfully but longingly and with deep affection, mindful of this country’s need of God’s protection and direction.47
Daw’s insight underscores a crucial point: God—not the nation—must remain the center of Christian worship.48 When patriotic music is framed as humble prayer rather than national pride, it can support rather than subvert the worship of God.
In addition to theological framing, worship leaders should be attentive to multivocality and diversity, asking whose voices are amplified or marginalized through the use of national songs. The text “This Is My Song,” by Lloyd Stone and Georgia Harkness, offers a compelling model:
This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine . . .
But other hearts in other lands are beating
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine . . .
Oh, hear my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.49
Rather than idealizing one nation, this hymn expresses love for one’s homeland while acknowledging the equal worth and beauty of others. It offers a rare instance of patriotic music that nurtures global solidarity, not exceptionalism.
Finally, and most importantly, worship must serve the purpose of forming citizens of God’s kingdom. As David Lemley writes, “Worship forms Christian identity and community according to the Triune life of God. Communion with God is the goal and means of spiritual formation and is the measure of authentic worship.”50 Patriotic music that distracts from that aim—rather than deepening it—must be reevaluated. What we sing in worship should shape our loyalties toward Christ’s reign, not toward any temporal power. These practices, rooted in theological intentionality, invite the church to sing the Lord’s song not as national performance, but as kingdom proclamation.
Conclusion
How shall we sing the Lord’s song in this land? Carefully, faithfully, and with theological discernment. Like the exiled Israelites in Psalm 137, the question is not whether national identity belongs in worship, but how it relates to developing the deeper identity as followers of Christ. Many congregations include patriotic music to honor veterans, commemorate national holidays, or express gratitude for civic freedoms. These intentions are not without merit or precedent.
Yet the danger is real: when national song becomes liturgical habit rather than theological witness, it risks crossing from commemoration into idolatry. Worship is not merely cultural performance; it is spiritual formation. The songs congregations sing—especially those tied to national identity—shape not just emotions but imaginations, theologies, and loyalties.
For this reason, churches must take care. Discernment is required not just about what music is included, but about the story that music tells. Does it point us toward Christ’s reign, or toward the glories of the nation? Does it invite us into gratitude and justice, or triumphalism and exclusion? This is not an easy balance. It requires pastoral sensitivity, theological courage, and a willingness to challenge long-held assumptions.
To sing the Lord’s song in this land is possible—but only if the church’s song resists the gods of nationalism and civil religion, and instead directs all praise, hope, and allegiance to the One who reigns over every land, every people, and every nation.
Notes
1. Jacey Fortin, “Trump Supporters Have a New Anthem, and It Came from Texas,” New York Times, July 11, 2017, www.nytimes.com/2017/07/11/us/politics/trump-maga-song-church.html/.
2. Samuel Smith, “Robert Jeffress: Singing ‘Make American Great Again’ No Different Than Singing National Anthem,” The Christian Post, July 6, 2017, www.christianpost.com/news/robert-jeffress-singing-make-america-great-again-no-different-than-singing-national-anthem.html/.
3. Lyrical theology is a term first used by S. T. Kimbrough Jr. in 1984 to describe theology that is couched in poetry, hymns/songs, and liturgy. It is characterized by rhythm and is expressive of emotion and sentiment. It often includes a digestion of theological concepts and ideas in brief, sometimes telescopic, terse lyrics. See S. T. Kimbrough, “Lyrical Theology: Theology in Hymns,” Theology Today 63, no. 1 (2006): 22–37.
4. David Lemley, Becoming What We Sing: Formation through Contemporary Worship Music (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2021), 16.
5. The author searched “using patriotic music in church.” The results came from sources ranging from seminaries, bloggers across the theological spectrum, and individual congregations explaining their inclusion or exclusion of patriotic music.
6. The Glory to God hymnal contains four— “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” “America the Beautiful,” “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” and “Lift Every Voice and Sing” as well as “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” known more commonly as the “Navy Hymn.” These same hymns, minus “The Battle Hymn,” were included in the 1990 Presbyterian Hymnal under the heading “National Songs.” While not included in the Presbyterian or United Methodist hymnals, the US national anthem appears in over four hundred hymnals according to Hymnary.org.
7. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 14.
8. Richard Crawford, America’s Musical Life: A History (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2001), 68.
9. First published in Isaac Watts’s collection titled Psalms of David in 1719.
10. Crawford, America’s Musical Life, 44.
11. Ryan Luhrs, “First New England School,” Canterbury Dictionary of Hymnology, n.d.
12. Carlton Young, A Companion to the United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville, TN: Abington Press, 1993), 621–622.
13. Katherine Meizel, “A Singing Citizenry: Popular Music and Civil Religion in America,” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 45, no. 4 (2006): 497–503.
14. Meizel, A Singing Citizenry, 497.
15. Carl P. Daw Jr., Glory to God: A Companion (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2016), 343.
16. Andreas Pangritz, The Polyphony of Life: Bonhoeffer’s Theology of Music, ed. John W. de Gruchy and John Morris, trans. Robert Steiner (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2019), 14.
17. Marva J. Dawn, Reaching Out without Dumbing Down: A Theology of Worship for This Urgent Time (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1995), 17.
18. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 26.
19. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 2.
20. Shar R. Hafner and Andre P. Audette, “The Politics of Church Shopping,” Politics and Religion 16, no. 1 (March 2023): 73–89, 74.
21. Don E. Saliers, “Liturgical Musical Formation,” in Liturgy and Music: Lifetime Learning, ed. Robin A. Leaver and Joyce Ann Zimmerman ( Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998), 387, quoted in Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 53.
22. David Stowe, No Sympathy for the Devil: Christian Pop Music and the Transformation of American Evangelicalism (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2015), 5.
23. Hafner and Audette, “The Politics of Church Shopping,” 74.
24. Kristin Kobes Du Mez, Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation (New York: Liveright Publishing, 2020), 295.
25. T. J. Shirley, “Militant Masculinity in Contemporary Worship Music,” Call to Worship 55, no. 3 (2021): 13–19, 17.
26. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 5.
27. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 5.
28. Patricia Ehrkamp and Caroline Nagel, “Immigration, Places of Worship and the Politics of Citizenship in the US South,” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 37, no. 4 new series (2012): 624–638, 624–625.
29. Dawn, Reaching Out, 17.
30. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 2.
31. Pangritz and de Gruchy, The Polyphony of Life, 10–11.
32. Pangritz and de Gruchy, 14.
33. Pangritz and de Gruchy, 10.
34. Pangritz and de Gruchy, 18.
35. Pangritz and de Gruchy, 18.
36. Pangritz and de Gruchy, 28.
37. Pangritz and de Gruchy, 29.
38. Augustine’s Confessions, Book 10, Chapter 33,
Section 50, 208.
39. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 2.
40. Walter Brueggemann, Israel’s Praise: Doxology against Idolatry and Ideology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988), 29–53.
41. Dawn, Reaching Out, 11.
42. Pangritz and de Gruchy, The Polyphony of Life, 14.
43. Daw, Glory to God: A Companion, 341.
44. Meizel, “A Singing Citizenry,” 499.
45. Gabriel Rossman, “Elites, Masses, and Media Blacklists: The Dixie Chicks Controversy,” Social Forces 83, no. 1 (September 2004): 68.
46. Daw, Glory to God: A Companion, 342.
47. Daw, Glory to God: A Companion, 343.
48. Dawn, Reaching Out, 76.
49. © 1932, renewed 1962 by The Lorenz Corporation. Stanza 3 © 1964 by The Lorenz Corporation.
50. Lemley, Becoming What We Sing, 25.
