Local songs for local churches

On the 1st September 2022 a new season of the Resound Worship ’12 Song Challenge’ starts. This set of monthly songwriting challenges – and the amazing online community which has formed – is “working together to grow in their creative gifts and serve their local church”.

I’ve been a member of this community for a couple of years, and find the people incredibly generous with their time and talents, wonderfully supportive, and truly gifted in the songs they are writing for their local churches. Of course, I’ve signed up for the new season.

But what does that mean: ‘songs for the local church’?

What is ‘the local church’?

For the purposes of this discussion the local church refers to a gathering of worshipping Christians in a localised geographic area. Often this will be centred around a specific building – but the building is not the church, the people are! – or a collection of related fellowships.

Crucially, the local church is made up of people who know each other – who are involved with each others’ lives on a regular basis, both during scheduled worship times and during the rest of the week. The extent of that involvement will vary from church to church and person to person, but we’ll see later why this ‘knowing one another’ is important.

Also, before we move on, I should point out that the slightly tongue-in-cheek title of this post (which is, of course, a reference to ‘The League of Gentlemen’) is meant with no disrespect!

What is a song?

In our discussion a song is lyrics set to music for use in congregational worship. That is, words written for the church to sing together. The only limits for these songs (past the obvious ones of theological accuracy and singability) are practical, based on style and arrangement. Each church is constrained by the musicians and resources available to them. A song which only works with a string orchestra won’t sound great with two recorders and a banjo, so in my experience churches have to be incredibly resourceful in how they use what they have.

So, what are ‘songs for the local church’?

We’re talking here about songs written by and for the local church. Songs written by members of the local church, for use in their own worshipping context (although some songs may get more widely shared).

The by and for bits are important: these are songs which reflect the life, struggles, hopes, dreams, prayers, and vision of the local church. They are songs which, while they may not name specific people in the fellowship, are about subjects familiar to the local people.

Here are a few examples of subjects local songs may tackle, although there’s no limit to what local songs can talk about, and human experience is often very similar across the world.

  • Social issues experienced locally: e.g. poverty, deprivation, crime
  • Particular physical or mental struggles experienced by church members: e.g. grief, depression, cancer
  • The aims of the local church: e.g. to reach out to the hurting, be a place of hope, plant more churches in nearby areas
  • Express aspects of worship relevant to the local church: joy, wonder, confusion

The bottom line here is the songs should be representative of that local church – even if the song is equally applicable to other local contexts. After all, a song named “Praise the God of creation” might represent a congregation with a focus on ecology as well as many other fellowships.

Songs in the Bible

If we look in the Bible we can see dozens of examples of songs which were written specifically about local issues of the time. The very first song in the Bible, in Exodus 15, was a song of thanks and praise after the Israelites had been delivered from Egypt. In fact, it almost looks like it’s a co-write between Moses and Miriam. The song names specific things about what happened – the waters closing over their enemies – amongst exclamations of praise and wonder, and declarations of the power and nature of God.

The book of Psalms is also chock-full of context-specific songs. We can see that by the inscriptions given to many of the chapters. Some of these are specific to the writer:

Psalm 3: A psalm of David. When he fled from his son Absalom.
Psalm 102: A prayer of an afflicted person who has grown weak and pours out a lament before the Lord.

Some are about specific events or times in the life of the community:

Psalm 30: A psalm. A song. For the dedication of the temple. Of David.
Psalm 92: A psalm. A song. For the Sabbath day.

And many are for specific people in the fellowship:

Psalm 85: For the director of music. Of the Sons of Korah. A psalm.

I’m no Bible scholar, but I suspect many of the Psalms reflect what was happening to the writer, or in the context in which they lived, at the time of writing. That’s to be expected: songs are mainly written from the personal perspective of the writer. As humans we have to work hard to see other perspectives to our own.

Before we look at the New Testament, there’s another example of local context-centric songwriting. In Judges 5 a song is sung by Deborah (who sounds like a formidable lady) which is utterly full of specific references to events that have just happened. The words in this song, like so many others in the Bible, may have meant something quite different – and probably a lot more personal – to the people hearing them at the time, than they do to us.

In the New Testament we are also encouraged to use music in worship. Both Ephesians 5:19 and Colossians 3:16 are clear that ‘psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs’ are to be used for the benefit of each other. While the early church had the Jewish scriptures to draw on, I suspect there were new songs being written at the time which expressed the fresh truth about Jesus. Those songs would have been almost exclusively written and used by the local church – there wasn’t much of a publishing industry back then!

Sing a new song

We are also exhorted in Psalms 33, 96, 98, 149, and in Isaiah 42:10 to “sing to the Lord a new song”. Even in the book of Revelation new songs are being sung (Rev 5:9, 14:3). It’s clear we shouldn’t rest on the laurels of previously-composed songs.

But why? Does God have a short attention span, constantly needing something fresh to liven up the boredom of being eternally worshipped? Of course not. I believe new songs are required for us. Writing new songs encourages us to remember what God has done for us, to put it into new words, to dig deeper into our understanding of his nature and love for us, and to express the full range of human emotion in ways that keep us sharpened.

New songs – particularly new local songs – help us to re-connect with ourselves, the world around us, and with God. So I believe that new local songs are vital for the worshipping life of a fellowship. I have three specific reasons why.

Why we should encourage local songwriting

First, it’s Biblically appropriate. We have seen many examples in the Bible where songs were written to celebrate specific events, express deep emotion, or draw together a worshipping community in vision and faith. It seems clear that songs written within the context of a local worshipping community can do the same today.

Second, local songwriting is culturally authentic. We don’t have to use songs where the musical style or language doesn’t suit our local context. We can write songs which are by us and of us.

Thirdly, it is pastorally encouraging to give people in a fellowship the opportunity to write songs which will be used in worship by that community. For some of us, songwriting gives us a way to engage with the Bible, our own beliefs, and with our context at a deeper level than thinking alone. Sometimes the fruits of that writing can be beneficial for the wider congregation.

It’s “and”, not “instead of”

None of what I’ve said is meant to be taken as a call to “Reject Redman!” or “Boycott Bethel!”. Worship leaders should draw on the best songs that meet the needs of their congregations, whether they were written by professional musician in a Californian mega-church, or by a teenager in your local church. Likewise, we shouldn’t be constrained by the age of the song – we have hundreds of years of history in writing music for worship, and we should draw on it all – whatever is appropriate to our local context.

We should also take care to ensure the quality of songs – whoever they are written by – is high. By quality I mean ensuring that they are theologically accurate, linguistically coherent, and musically pleasing! There is also a direct and sobering warning in Amos 5:23 that God will reject sung worship if the heart of the worshipper is not set on the right things. Encouraging local songwriting is not an excuse to pander to dreams of international fame.

What does seem strange to me is the common assumption that we should only use “proper”, published songs in our churches. While there are undoubtedly anointed songwriters who work professionally in the Christian music industry, deferring to only using their songs should be as strange to us as a world where we only use prayers centrally published, or only give sermons written by celebrity preachers. Let’s unlock the potential in our local churches to use songwriting as a way to express ourselves to God, and to share His love with the people around us.


A conversation at work last week got me thinking about what we, as web developers and designers, mean when we talk about websites supporting certain browsers. I feel that the word ‘support’ is misunderstood, and has a number of meanings depending on the context in which it is used.

Does it work?

In my experience, people mostly use ‘support’ to describe in which browsers a website will work. However, ‘work’ isn’t an adequate word. Websites rarely do or don’t work in their entirety. Websites are complex collections of dozens, often hundreds of, different commands and API calls. Any mixture of them may or may not be available in a browser accessing the website, depending on the browser type and version. It’s rarely a binary situation where the site works or doesn’t work.

We need to take a more nuanced approach, and realise there are levels of ‘working’ that may or may not make a difference to the user of the website. Those users are the ones for whom the website exists, after all.

For example, many years ago when rounded corners were being introduced in CSS, some pragmatic web developers added the code for rounded corners to their CSS styles knowing that if a browser didn’t understand that code it would ignore it. The corners would be square, but no error would be thrown. Users, unless they were eagle-eyed and knew that the corners were meant to be round, wouldn’t even know the difference.

That was made possible because of the declarative nature of CSS. HTML works the same way – if a browser doesn’t understand a particular element it will render the contents of the tag as text and move on. No error will be thrown. Here’s an example of that flexibility:

<audio src="postman-pat-grime-remix.mp3">This will be displayed in browsers that don't understand the 'audio' element<audio>

JavaScript, on the other hand, doesn’t work like that; it’s imperative. This means that if the browser doesn’t understand a particular piece of JavaScript code it is beng asked to run, an error is thrown. That error may stop further JavaScript being executed on the page. So there’s a big difference in how developers should approach the use of CSS/HTML, and JavaScript. Nuance is the key.

This nuanced approach understands that not all functionality is created equal. For example, for some sites the ability to re-order a table of data instantly (i.e. without a trip to the server and back) is crucial to the functionality of the site. Or, perhaps a particular site absolutely cannot function without CSS grid layout. But these cases are, in my experience, rare. Most sites – not all, but most – require only basic functionality to work, even if they get nicer to use with additional ‘bells and whistles’.

We have to ask tough questions about what our bells and whistles are, and whether the bells and whistles we are adding to a site are really required: especially if they stop users of some browsers using that site.

Can we test it?

The other context people use the word ‘supports’ is when talking about which browsers we are going to test. This is a difficult subject, as we don’t have a hope of testing the huge range of combinations of browsers, operating systems, devices etc out there in ‘the wild’.

Here, we have to be pragmatic. We should look at the site statistics to determine the browsers, operating systems, and devices people are using. But we should bear in mind that if a particular browser or device doesn’t seem to be used much, it might be due to parts of the site not working well for those users – even if they want to use it!

We should also pay attention to global browser usage trends, particularly in the region or demographics our site is aimed at.

So, rather than asking what browsers we choose support, let’s ask what functionality do we need to use. We should make tough choices about the functionality our site actually needs – right the way down to code level; individual JavaScript API calls, CSS properties and values, HTML elements. Let’s remember there are often many ways to achieve a particular outcome, and that users just want to do the job for which they visited the website.

We’ll then find that, rather than just ‘supporting’ a narrow range of browsers, we allow users with a much wider range of browsers, operating systems, devices – yes, and assistive technologies – to use our sites. Accessibility for all is a fundamental principle of the web. Let’s not break it.

Bells and whistles are great, but if they get in the way of the user accomplishing their task then they are nothing but a waste of time and effort.

Mind the gap

Most modern software solutions consist of multiple layers or tiers. Each of these has responsibility for processing inputs and outputs in different ways. For web applications you’ll find a user interface, one oe more APIs which serve data, and probably multiple tiers handling data on the server.

These tiers can be completely separate, as in the case of a web UI and its API. Sometimes they are very closely tied together, for example data access and repository pattern layers in a single component. In all cases these tiers have to – and I realise how much I’m stating the obvious – communicate with each other. So they have to know how to communicate with each other.

Nothing ground-breaking there. But I’ve found that this is exactly where software projects can fail. There’s lots of thought and information gone into how each of the components work, but not so much thought gone into how they will communicate. Here’s an analogy:

Towbar fitted to the back of a car

The humble towbar. Doesn’t look much, does it? A curved bit of metal, with just enough of a shape to allow something to be fixed loosely to the end of it.

Yet this simple bit of technology is responsible for joining two huge components – a car and a caravan or trailer. In many cases the two components it joins are hugely expensive and complicated pieces of machinery – but this simple hook of metal means they can work together.

It’s not glamorous or highly technical, but the specification of this hook had to be known to both of the components it was joining. Without a known and agreed specification there was little hope of successful communication between the components.

Let’s translate that to software. Imagine you’re on a team who need to deliver a web app. The web app must call an API to get some data crucial to the app. The API is being built by a different team, over who you have no control. An architect may put together a diagram explaining when the components should communicate:

Example sequence diagram showing a client app, API, and business rules serverBut without the how this is little use to the development team. The how is the actual specification of those request and response messages – what gets sent, what gets returned.

This detail is crucial and must be discussed and agreed early in the project. This detail is the system. Without known, agreed specifications for all of the communication points between the different components you’re in grave danger of building a bunch of cogs which don’t quite work together.

The specification of those messages allows a number of important things to be discussed and checked-off:

  • What data do I need to send?
    • What is optional? What is required?
    • What are the bounds of the data? Are there any value contraints?
  • What data do I get back?
    • Is everything there that I need?
    • What are the bounds of the data? Are there any value contraints?
    • Are there values which I need to translate in any way?
  • What about errors?
    • What possible error response could I get?
    • What if no response is returned?
    • Is there a timeout I need to cater for?
  • Is this even right?
    • Does this request even need to be made? Am I requesting data I already have?
    • Is there a more efficient or robus mechanism to do the same thing?

These things make the difference between a system which is deployed riddled with potential runtime bugs, and one which you have prepared for as many scenarios as possible.

OK, how do we agree on and document this specification so everyone is on the same page? Or at least, in the same book.

(Thanks to Craig Milner for that last line. He took it further: “I’ve known teams who were not just not on the same page, they weren’t even in the same library.”)

I think there’s a lack of what I’m going to call “3D software architecture documentation”, or at least I’m not aware of any. What I mean is documents which, like the sequence diagram above which shows two axes, also allow the viewer to go deeper into more detail. Imagine if you could click any of those request/response arrows and view the specification for that message. Then click “back” and go back to the more zoomed-out level.

I guess what I’m describing is a web page. Yes, I’ve just invented links. Go me!

And the specification for messages? That’s easy: for REST APIs (which a lot of the time is what we’re talking about) you should use OpenAPI – a standard for describing APIs.

This is what I used when defining the API for a large automotive data company. I wrote the specification for the API using OpenAPI, it could then be “navigated” using an OpenAPI viewer, and discussed by the team before we built anything. Once a part of the API was built we could then compare the output with the original spec.

Sometimes, pragmatic changes had to be made so the real API was slightly different to the specification – these changes were always discussed during development. But more often than not, because adequate thought had gone into a high-enough resolution specification, the developers knew exactly what to build.

This approach is “design-first API development” as you design what the API is going to look like up-front before you break ground writing any code. This same approach can be used for different types of components – GraphQL APIs, SOAP, even code-level interfaces.

So the takeaway here is to spend some time early in a project to talk about and document how components will communicate. That’s the detail which can make or break a solution.

This is starting to get silly

It’s been a while since I made any LEGO office equipment. I had to fix that.

I found my desk getting cluttered with a few bits I always had hanging round:

  • Pens and pencils
  • Headphones
  • Short USB cables (for charging my phone etc)
  • Couple of small backup drives
  • USB memory sticks
  • USB adapters
  • Capo (I play a bit of guitar)
  • Plectrums. Should that be plectra?

All necessary, all needed at my fingertips, but messy to leave lying around. So I built a desk tidy.

My LEGO desk tidy

It’s got a place for everything, and everything in its place. Somewhere to put my plectrums/plectra.

Plectrum holder in my LEGO desk tidy

A pot on top for USB memory sticks and adapters, and any other small knick-knacks.

Small box of bits in my LEGO desk tidy

Cable hooks on each side. I decided against a more complicated system to store cables as … well, it’s not needed.

Cable hooks on my LEGO desk tidy

Round the back is a bracket for my capo. There are actually two brackets, not that I have two capo (capi?) but I needed the unit to be symmetrical.

Capo bracket on my LEGO desk tidy

And there are two caddies for storing the backup drives. I’ve also got an eraser in there, too.

Backup drive storage in my LEGO desk tidy

This was a fun little project to build! But I need to stop, as my wife is starting to think I’m strange. Or rather, stranger than she already thought I was.

More LEGO office equipment

Oops, I did it again.

The arrival of another laptop meant I had a requirement for another laptop stand. Yes, of course I made it out of LEGO!

LEGO laptop stand number 2

I decided on a simpler design this time, with no attempts at making it adjustable.

Side view of my LEGO laptop stand

I also made the cable tidy smaller and more integrated.

A laptop stand made of LEGO

And finished it off by adding a few mini figs, including Spiderman.

Some LEGO minifigs guarding my LEGO laptop stand

I have to say I really enjoyed this, and am trying to think of other office equipment I can make out of LEGO. Any ideas?