My watch is fifty-four years old. It repeatedly stops throughout the day, and when I wear it, I have to always double-check it against my smartphone. After resetting the time and giving it a good shake, my Seiko starts up again—for a bit, and then stops. Those stops are becoming more frequent as it ages. As a diver’s watch, in its original condition, it was good to 150 meters depth in the water. And it is self-winding so no need for a battery or requiring turning the tiny knob on the side. With a black dial and silver inscriptions, it includes an analog day-of-the-month window that obliges me to reach for my reading glasses and manually advance most months (except September, April, June, and November, and, oh yeah, February). Many scratches and lettering on the dial showcase the fading of its years, and the light-activated, luminescent hour markings no longer hold their night-time glow. My adult children ask, “Why would you want to even wear a single-function device on your wrist?” So why do I sometimes wear that watch, even when it is broken and can no longer reliably tell time?

My dad gave it to me for high school graduation in 1968. He bought it in the far-east when he was on assignment working as a civilian for the U.S. army during the Vietnam War years. Memories drench this watch, connecting me to my past. This watch has gone swimming, snorkeling, hiking, and climbing with me—right there on my wrist. It went to college with me in Oregon and accompanied me to my first job in Buffalo, New York. My watch and I were constant companions for many sojourns in Canada and the U.S. It kept me on time for many, many years. It has been a good and faithful friend.

But, somewhere along the line, it stopped working correctly. Every few years, I take it to a watch repair shop in hopes it can be revived, but the answer always comes back the same. “Fixing it, even if we could find parts, would cost way more than buying a new one with lots more functionality.” I even sent it to Seiko and months later received it back “fixed”—for a little while, until it stopped again. Once I thought about finding an identical used watch, absconding with the innards, and inserting them into my device, but that would be a fraud. It would no longer be the watch my dad gave me, only the façade.

I love that watch and will continue to occasionally wear it! But not to keep time; now it’s more decorative than functional. Manly jewelry, if you will—some might call it bling, but that would be stretching it. I am not self-deluded or weird, any more than someone wearing a tie (a completely functionless accessory to a suitcoat) or a favorite piece of clothing. It is my own personal tradition, and I don’t care what anyone thinks when they ask me the time; I look at my watch, then take out my smartphone and respond. (Pity the person who steals a peek at my wrist and mis-times their next appointment as a result!)

I find in my watch an interesting analogy, negative though it may be. Some people love their traditions but fail to understand their appropriate value. Religious traditions easily fit in at this point (you knew I would bring it around to spiritual stuff, but remember, all heaven and earth reflect God’s glory, so I am metaphorically looking for God’s glory in this story of my watch!). I love some old hymns of the faith; by old, I mean from the 1970s when I first came to faith in Christ. They bring back profound emotions related to my first love for Christ. Many of them now are re-cast in new instrumental arrangements and make for excellent background mood music. Ahhh, now that’s what I am talking about.

To newer believers, that sounds so old-school. But that’s OK for them to think that way because I often don’t like the “new-school” worship music so much. Don’t get me wrong, I love to worship, and know I have much more learning and growth to do in that department. But I often don’t get the new “worship” songs, which have little sentimental or emotional value for me. You certainly won’t find many of them in my playlists, re-arranged into easy-listening instrumental renditions. Some songs make me feel like I am eating the frosting, over and over and over and over again—it tastes great, but where’s the cake of good theology? The apostle Paul wrote:

Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. (Col. 3:16)

Does the current generation of “worship” music miss the teaching and admonishing elements? Seems like most of the focus is on expressing our feelings to God and not so much reflecting on God’s feelings and thoughts toward us. Does the chorus of praise rest on a skimpy foundation of truth so that the praise ends up being superficial? Yes, I enjoy the frosting, but I need the cake too. I enjoy wearing my watch, but I do need to know the time. My prayer is that our “contemporary” music does not become another “tradition” that a future generation will criticize as being the new “old-school.”

I agree that we need to sing choruses where there is fullness of emotional expression of worship. But we need the verses that teach and admonish us as well. When so much of our Sunday morning services are composed of singing, so much effort goes into the musical presentation and accompaniment, this is not a superficial discussion, like a façade on a beloved watch! We must talk about it.

I hope no one ridicules me for wearing my cherished but mis-timing watch. None of us should ridicule or superficially judge the music which speaks deeply to other people’s hearts. For all of us, our music becomes part of our tradition. But we can admonish one another not to live in the mis-belief that our souls can be satisfied with just the frosting without a good portion of cake. That would not be a good tradition. Many different frostings can enhance a cake, but a plate full of frosting gets old quickly. I pray that God will raise more spiritual, musical chefs who can provide new and solid worship music that engages both the emotions (frosting) and the truth (cake).

I must bring this missive to an end; my watch is telling me it’s time to go.