“Three Streams” is a phrase that has come to the fore in the last 10 years or so, especially amongst Anglicans in the ACNA and in continuing Anglican churches. The phrase is meant to suggest (a) that there are three historic “streams” within historic Christianity — the Catholic, the Evangelical, and the Charismatic — and (b) that Anglicanism embodies these in a distinct way that can serve the renewal of the Church.

Prof. Gillis Harp has suggested that the notion may have its origins in Lesslie Newbigin’s The Household of God (1953) or possibly an article by Richard Lovelace in Charisma magazine in 1984. Regardless, it was brought to prominence by the late Wheaton College professor Robert Webber in his wide corpus on “Ancient-Future” worship, sometimes called the Convergence Movement. In an article for ACNA’s newsletter Apostle, Trinity School for Ministry’s professor emeritus, the Rev’d Dr Les Farfield writes:

The genius of Anglicanism is that for five hundred years it has held in creative tension three different strands of Biblical Christianity. Those three streams are the Protestant, the Pentecostal/Holiness and the AngloCatholic [sic] movements.

I must say I find this a problematic argument from a historical perspective: How many Anglicans before the twentieth-century charismatic movement would have found recognizable the claim that the “Pentecostal/Holiness” stream is an integral part of Anglicanism?


But what I find more problematic is the way of thinking that has developed among many who advocate the approach, namely, that parishes should choose a stream in which their parish sits. (This is not an official position, I should add, as this interview with ACNA archbishop, Foley Beach, indicates). 

Clearly the approach works as a heuristic — to identify as one or the other is not meant to indicate the rejection of the other two (though one would ask whether this happens de facto in many places). Rather, my concern is that setting up the conversation in this way completely obliterates the meaning of “catholic,” if this merely indicates the sacraments and the historic three-fold order of ministry or even worse “high church” worship. The problem is when evangelical or charismatic, or Franciscan or Dominican or contemplative or “Celtic” or a whole host of other such adjectives are set in any sort of competitive relationship with the term “catholic.” And, ecumenically-speaking, this use of the word will, at best, be confusing to Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Christians, and, more likely, be quite offensive.

But those are not the three streams that I want to highlight. Though I think they’re related. Here’s a little background.

Last week brought a new experience for me at Societas Liturgica in Quebec City: not only was I able to rub shoulders with a host of liturgical scholars from across the globe but it was also my first experience of a fully international conference situation (German, French, and English). In the coming weeks, I will likely write more about a number of the different ideas that this conference left me with (either here or over at my own blog, Laudate Dominum). But the idea that continues to buzz around in my mind came by way of a presentation by Boston University doctoral student Nelson Cowan on the music of Hillsong Church, the massive Pentecostal church movement out of Sydney, Australia. As he reminded us, more than 500 million Pentecostals gather to worship every Sunday. And Hillsong is a part of this Pentecostal movement. If, as a reader of Covenant, you don’t know much about Hillsong or you turn up your nose at Pentecostalism, then I would gently suggest that you likely don’t have a very significant grasp of what Christianity looks like globally nor a sense of how Christianity will look in the coming generations.

Nelson mentioned one of Hillsong’s newer compositions, “This I Believe (The Creed),” which has a remarkable history:

In January [2014], John Dickson, co-founder of the Centre for Public Christianity and senior Anglican minister in Sydney, asked on Facebook, “Can someone with real Hillsong contacts please urge their brilliant songwriters to put the Apostles’ Creed to inspiring music. They’d be doing mainstream Christianity an enormous favour.”

At the same time he directly tweeted the same request to Hillsong. His appeal reached the ears of Cassandra Langton, Hillsong’s Creative Director, who tweeted her reply to John within 24 hours, “We shall have a go!!!” (quoted from this less-than-objective report )

And by May of that year, “This I Believe” was being sung across Australia, and soon, in a vast array of churches. (Hit play and listen as you continue to read).

Our Father, everlasting
The all creating One
God Almighty

Through Your Holy Spirit
Conceiving Christ the Son
Jesus our Saviour

I believe in God our Father
I believe in Christ the Son
I believe in the Holy Spirit
Our God is three in one
I believe in the resurrection
That we will rise again

For I believe in the name of Jesus


I believe in you
I believe you rose again
I believe that Jesus Christ is Lord (repeat)

Our judge and our defender
Suffered and crucified
Forgiveness is in You

Descended into darkness
You rose in glorious light
Forever seated high

I believe in God our Father… (as above)

I believe in Life Eternal
I believe in the virgin birth
I believe in the saints’ communion
And in Your holy church
I believe in the resurrection
When Jesus comes again
For I believe in the name of Jesus

I believe in God our Father… (as above)

There are a whole host of conversations that this song could engender. For example, how is paraphrasing the Creed similar to and dissimilar from paraphrasing Scripture? What kind of ecumenism does this represent? How are we to understand the repetition (which I love, by the way!) of the refrain, “I believe in the Name of Jesus”? Is the implication of the refrain that the only reason we can confess everything else in the Creed is because of a trust in Jesus who reveals this fullness of God? I’m sure you can add your own.

But what, you ask, does this have to do with three streams?

Here’s the thought that came to me after listening to Nelson’s talk: The way to incorporate contemporary worship music may very well be best achieved in a context closest to its origins, that is, in a service of singing and preaching. Conceived in this way, the three streams would be:

  • The Holy Eucharist, the acceptable sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving offered by the Christian gathered assembly on the Lord’s Day;
  • The Divine Office (at least Morning and Evening Prayer), the daily, psalm-centric praying of the Scriptures;
  • Praise and Worship (I use this for the sake of ease as a term to refer to a service centered on contemporary worship songs, but could include many others items).

From a historical perspective, I want to suggest that Praise and Worship be conceived as “popular piety,” like devotions such as the Stations of the Cross, the Adoration and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, or the rosary (to name just a few). As an Australian Baptist who was at Nelson’s talk noted, the kind of intimate, familiar language of much worship music is remarkably similar to much of what can be found in the language of medieval mystics. Such language and its corresponding spiritual posture are in no way foreign to historic Christianity (contra this recently re-posted “Rant about Worship Songs” from First Things).

But I do wonder to what degree they are compatible with eucharistic worship or the Divine Office. Consider another example. Music from the Taize Community (the ecumenical monastery in France), with its take on traditional Gregorian chant of biblical and liturgical texts, is definitely contemporary but would not fall under the rubric that elicits my concern. If I were to try to condense my concerns, I might summarize them in this way: the kind of emotional response elicited by worship music in the pop/rock idiom is difficult to distinguish from the emotional response elicited at a Mumford & Sons or U2 show.

The result is that experiencing a particular emotional response in a Praise and Worship context becomes tied to having “properly worshiped,” and people end up evaluating their encounter with God on the basis of their emotional response. This is the flip-side of a problem that is just as dangerous (and discussed most ably by Fr. Tony Clavier a while back on Covenant): thinking that worship and/or the Eucharist is primarily about receiving something, rather than offering something (i.e. everything! — bread and wine as representative of all God has given, “our selves, our souls, and bodies,” and the self-offering of Jesus on the Cross).

Most dangerously, this can get wrapped up with the reception of the Sacrament: “real” or “proper” reception of the Sacrament could be tied to a certain kind of emotional intensity or response. This we must name with absolute clarity as a grave error.

There are other issues that I’ve bracketed. Nonetheless, they are issues that we must consider carefully when thinking about Praise and Worship, and I’ll just flag them:

  • The centrality of the worship band in the worship experience: this worship often happens within the context of a space that is usually devoid of any particularly Christian symbols and within architecture that is not particularly Christian. The ethos is often closer to a rock show than anything else. As a sacramental Christian, I have profound concerns about this: to use Cardinal Ratzinger’s critique of certain forms of Roman Catholic liturgy after Vatican II, this form of Praise and Worship runs the serious risk of being turned in on itself such that we’re celebrating ourselves under the guise of worshiping Almighty God.
  • Related to this lack of traditional Christian symbolism and architecture is the high preponderance of very attractive, well-dressed, highly emotive people who are on worship teams, who then become that at which we are to look and gaze the entire time. This seems quite likely to “mis-form” people in a number of ways: (a) It could easily imply that Christian leaders/ministers should be attractive, fashionable, and especially emotive, or at least that faithful Christians will look this way; (b) this could be very distracting for many people and introduce the stray romantic or erotic feeling, a problem which is only compounded by the fact that there is a way in which these desires can and should be redirected Godward.
  • In short, the relevance of so many of the “outward and visible” signs of pop culture, combined with the lack of architecture, symbols, vestments, ritual actions, and ceremonies introduces a great deal of possible confusion about who we are worshiping, what we’re even doing, and what is the purpose of this gathering.

No doubt, critics will respond, that exclusively “ecclesial” music also brings an emotional response. And this is absolutely true. All music affects the internal life of a person, no matter how slight. But I would contend that the response wrought by singing Hillsong’s “This I Believe” or Chris Tomlin’s “How Great is Our God” or “Holy is the Lord” is categorically different from a Palestrina “Gloria,” a Gregorian Psalm, or even the stronger emotional response from singing hymns such as “Christ, the Fair Glory of the Holy Angels” or “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty.” The latter leads heavenward; the direction of the former songs is much less clear.

This type of worship can be profoundly edifying. But I would suggest that without profound discernment about the music itself, along with the lyrical content, it is most difficult to join it properly to Eucharistic Worship. It is easier to incorporate it into the Divine Office, but I think it may be best on its own. In the same way that it is a mistake to alter the liturgy to make evangelism its primary purpose (when this is instead a possible result), the perhaps unintended move to elevate a certain kind of emotional experience as an essential proof of true worship is a disastrous error. Even more, if some of the concerns I raised above are not addressed, the use of this music by sacramental Christians could lead people to the adoration of emotions or “the beautiful people” who lead the music, and not to the adoration of God.

Just as it requires more work and creativity to bring the Gospel to those who do not know Christ in a context outside the Eucharist, so too making space for a more emotive and intimate-yet-corporate encounter with the Lord will also require more work. And I think it will require a carefully considered form of liturgy all its own. But I think it is worth it.

What if Eucharistic Christians were to bring back Sunday night and/or Wednesday night church, but in the form of Praise and Worship? This could be joined to Scripture reading and preaching (lay or ordained). And as some catholics are learning, this can even be integrated into a sacramental context by concluding with Eucharistic Adoration and/or Benediction (see this great website that even includes a song list). And there is no reason that this worship shouldn’t regularly have an evangelistic edge.

Sunday Eucharist | Daily Morning & Evening Prayer | Weekly Praise and Worship

This rich and diverse combination of Scripture, Praise, Sacrament, and Adoration can grow and deepen Christians. And these are Three Streams that can lead us to the Heavenly Jerusalem.

The featured image is a Hillsong service in Sydney’s Acer stadium (2010). It is licensed under Creative Commons. 

About The Author

The Rev. Matthew S. C. Olver, Ph.D. is the Executive Director of The Living Church Foundation and Publisher of The Living Church Foundation.

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10 Responses

  1. Zachary Guiliano

    A churlish note on paraphrasing the Creed: I’m struck by how certain ‘Catholic’ sounding things are omitted from the Hillsong version: e.g. explicit mention of Mary’s name, the ‘holy, catholic, and apostolic’ church, the descent into hell (rendered here as ‘darkness’). But then, also no Pontius Pilate!

  2. Jonathan Mitchican

    As Fr. Olver points out, Anglican Pentecostalism does not exist prior to the Charismatic movement of the twentieth century, so the idea that it goes back to the Reformation is absurd. Moreover, while Pentecostalism certainly has its own life and culture (and I leave aside for the moment the debate about whether Charismaticism and Pentecostalism are the same thing), I would argue that Pentecostalism is a sub-species of Evangelicalism. So to say that Anglicanism has “three streams,” two of which are Evangelical, would be as silly as if we were to say that the three streams of Anglicanism are Evangelicalism, Anglo-Catholicism, and Anglo-Papalism.

    On the other hand, if we want to talk sheer numbers, it is probably accurate to say that Anglicanism today is two thirds Evangelical. The remaining third can be divided between Catholic and Liberal, with some overlap between the two, probably erring on the side of Liberalism for the bigger slice. Of course, all of these taxonomies fail to account for the cross-pollination between these groups over the years, but there we are. I think Fr. Olver is quite right to say that being “catholic” cannot be reduced to mere party affiliation. To be catholic is to be comprehensive, not in an “anything goes” way but in a way which accepts and incorporates all developments that legitimately spring from the Christian center while patiently weeding out that which is contrary.

  3. Fr. Matthew S.C. Olver

    Zach, I noticed the same thing too. Though, to be fair, the Apostles’ Creed has only the adjectives “holy” and “catholic.” But no declaration that Jesus is the Son of the Father or our Lord; no Mary (and no act of Mary either-just the Spirit)’ no Pontius Pilate, no judge of all, only ‘us’ (the church?); and what is ‘the resurrection’ exactly? What ‘hell’ Jesus went to remains something of a debate, of course. But darkness–hmm.

    But again one has to ask: what of paraphrasing a Creed whose language (really, the Nicene language more than the Apostles’ Creed) was hammered out with care and debate spittle flying. While changing Scripture is viewed as a serious thing indeed, it would seem a related but somewhat different kind of error to fiddle with Creedal language. It might be, in fact, a rejection of the much better translation of Nicaea in 1979: “I believe [no ‘in’] one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.”

  4. Charlie Clauss

    Mary shows up in “I believe in the virgin birth”
    and Jesus sonship in “I believe in Christ the Son.”

    Given the debates about Hell in the Apostle’s Creed, “Descended into darkness” is a nice compromise.

    Converting a creed into the lyrics of a song will necessitate stretching language. I suppose some people would only be satisfied with a version that just chanted the words (of course you’d have to specify which version).

    • Zachary Guiliano

      I don’t know, Charlie. Schubert, Mozart, Beethoven, Palestrina, Byrd Victoria, Vierne, Bach, Haydn, Faure, and a host of others seemed to do it without altering the worrds.


  5. Charlie Clauss

    I’m afraid your “gotcha” doesn’t *quite* work: all those composers wrote quite lovely pieces – almost always in Latin (or German, maybe Italian?) and I’m sure someone wrote in English (haven’t yet found one).

    I like this one:


    However, all wrote to a particular audience, and I’ll bet with firm expectations from whoever commissioned the work. There was no way *they* would have altered the (often) Latin text (I’d be very surprised if they didn’t have many choices to make about the text they used).

    So along comes a composer writing in a modern setting to a modern audience. Could they have used verbatim the words in the BCP (of course they would have had to decide Rite I or Rite II – oh, wait, is that a slippery slope I see?)? Somebody somewhere must have done it – I’m still looking (other have done the modern rock version – I have always liked Petra’s version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1bofa9mQa0
    and I forgot about Rich Mullin’s version
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LR2hFP1yb4 – you’ll like that better; he mentions Pilate!
    how about a spoke word version
    Here is a Taize version you will like
    and version pretty true to the text (but not quite)

    So I will admit that I should have qualified my statement with something like

    “Converting a creed into the lyrics of a *modern* worship song…).

    That Schubert et al were true to a Latin text in the 19th century doesn’t matter to me much. Lovely music, though.

    • Zachary Guiliano

      I don’t know. I’m still pretty sure it works. :)

      They were all writing commissions (for the most part, yes), but they were all working with authorized texts. The same would be true of someone choosing between Rite 1 and Rite 2.

      Your qualification now makes clear what you mean: the rigid genre constrictions of the modern worship song are the issue. In other words, the Creed cannot escape being altered if it is to fit on the Procrustean bed of a particular cultural expression of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.

      And sure Schubert et al matter to you; you’re not as evangelical as you think.

  6. Charlie Clauss

    So I made us stray from the core of the original post, so let me take us back:

    Eucharist, Office, and Piety: we need all three. Classical music, hymns, and contemporary music can play a part, when and where contextually appropriate, with all three.

    Other topics that deserve more thought from the original post:

    – The place of emotion in worship. This question is wrapped up in the “humanity” of worship. Invariably someone will say “Worship is all about God,” and if they mean that God is the focus of worship, then correct. But if they mean that taking into account human action, responsibility, and response is not allowed, then no. Otherwise, how does one fit the fact that we come forward week by week and receive Bread and Wine? Taking emotions into consideration is right and proper. It *is* improper to cynically manipulate emotions for temporal gain – both to purely make us feel better or to increase the amount placed in the offering plate. We sing songs on Easter that have the emotional result of happiness and joy, and songs in Lent that result in somber reflection and even sorrow. This is right and proper.

    Indeed, the issue is discernment. *Traditional music is no more likely to lead to a “heavenward” disposition then is contemporary forms*. That some people so experience it that way is because they have *been taught* to experience it that way. Contemporary forms can be similarly taught.

    A central point for me: we need to be more “Ignatian” about emotion. We should spend much more time attending to them, both individually and corporately. If we do not, they will still be there, and their effects will be more extreme for our lack of attention

    – That is up front: When I started visiting new churches, I was always struck by what was placed in the front middle. On further reflection, I see that it is a statement about that which is most highly valued. Baptists place the pulpit there – preaching is the most valued thing. Placing the worship band there is a profound statement! Of course, Eucharistic churches place the table (if you are a Lutheran – altar for many others) there.

    – “Outward and visible signs”: Even the most iconoclastic will still have them! They just won’t have given them much thought, and so will be unconsciously ruled by the underling culture.

    – If you want a Praise and Worship service alternative, give serious consideration to a healing service.

    • ELaine Seaton

      Rich Mullins put the creed to music on his Album entitled “Songs.” Check it out


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