The Seven Deadly Sins Of Worship Leading
Smokers, Jokers, And Midnight Tokers
Worship leading matters, man—it’s the neon sign blinking when folks stumble into your church, bleary-eyed and half-hoping for transcendence. The stakes are sky-high now, and rightly so—these clowns don’t just strum chords, they’re pacing the whole scope of the service.
You might bristle at that, but lean in: Scripture’s barking, “Enter His gates with thanksgiving, His courts with praise.” Every church worth a toot knows: A) The gathered flock’s God’s crib, B) Acts 15 resurrects David’s tabernacle as the NT’s mixtape, and C) Worship—wild, Davidic, name-exalting madness—is the church’s first gig. The Four Living Creatures, Elders, angel hordes—they’re belting it out, cultic-style, not that “all life’s worship” mush. That’s real, sure, but it’s a different fruit basket.
Worship sets the tempo. Not music—worship.
So, yeah, the modern worship leader’s a big freaking deal—I’m stoked about it. What chaps me, though, is the baggage these glittery troubadours haul in. The more gifted, the more pastors shrug at their quirks, nursing migraines behind forced grins.
Ever wonder why Hillsong’s worship slayed? Everyone clawed to lead, eating brutal feedback like it was a zero carb breakfast the week before Conference. Leading there was a gauntlet—I got pummeled every set those first two years. They knew their sound, and with a hundred unpaid hopefuls in line, they’d shred you to your face, no mercy. Never saw a dime on Sundays, and trust me, singing was tougher than preaching—Hillsong’s preaching bar was subterranean, a limbo stick for ants.
But those worship cats? Meow. World-class, ramming the bar higher like two rams in a field of sows—competitive as all get out.
Stateside, though? Critique a paid worship bro and he’s bolting—ball, bat, and ego—to the next Phoenix megachurch. These bros ain’t loyal; they stay aggressively mid. Finding a gem’s a slog, which is why flying one in monthly to whip your crew into shape isn’t just smart—it’s often survival.
I might sound cranky, but there’s just certain shenanigans that grind my gears.
Here are the Seven Things God Hates about worship leaders:
