Migrating Melodies, Migrating Spirituality: Initial Findings from a Slovenian Study of Contemporary Worship Music

Abstract

The growth of Charismatic Christianity is arguably one of the most significant religious developments of the past century. Originating as a Protestant renewal movement in the United States, it expanded throughout the twentieth century, establishing Pentecostal churches, inspiring renewal movements within traditional denominations, and fundamentally reshaping Evangelical Christianity. While its theological and social features have been widely examined, the role of worship music remains a relatively understudied aspect of Charismatic life, despite its centrality in contemporary Christian practice. Situated within the framework of international migration and based on research in Slovenia, this article explores Contemporary Christian Music (CCM), particularly contemporary worship music (CWM), as a transnational vehicle of Charismatic and Evangelical Christianity. Drawing on semi-structured interviews and a qualitative analysis of a public database of translated songs, the study surveys CWM in Slovenia and discusses the homogenization of worship styles and the marginalization of local CWM production. The article concludes by reflecting on the notion of interdenominational homogenization in worship music.

1. Introduction

With migration to OECD countries, particularly in Europe, on the rise (Dao et al. 2021), the research of people on the move has expanded substantially (Nishimura and Czaika 2024). Though the scholarship is certainly comprehensive (Triandafyllidou 2022), it has its blind spots. For example, the research on migration primarily focuses on labour migration (Zaiceva and Zimmermann 2008); its traditional and new media framing (Smrdelj and Vogrinc 2020; Smrdelj 2021, 2024); securitization (Kaya 2009) and integration (Norris and Inglehart 2012), particularly its social discontents (Messina 1990; Lesińska 2014). When it comes to the religious aspects of migration (Hagan and Ebaugh 2003; Saunders et al. 2016; Guveli and Platt 2023), there is an overwhelming focus on prejudice and discrimination (Deslandes and Anderson 2019), with most of such studies focusing on Muslims (Tausch 2019). Indeed, Islam is the most researched overlapping field of religion and migration, with the scholarship focusing on a diverse set of topics, such as religious pluralism, either in person (Kéri and Sleiman 2017; Ješe Perković 2024; Mandelc 2025) or online (Zalta 2025); the distinctive features of so-called ‘Euro-Islam’ (Zalta 2018); and Islamophobia (Bleich 2012; Hajjat and Mohammed 2023; Jurekovič 2024b). In comparison, relatively little research has so far been conducted on Christian migration, with noteworthy exceptions pertaining to African Christian migration, whether in the form of labour migration (Krašovec and Zalta 2024) or so-called reverse mission endeavours in Europe (Burgess 2011; Asamoah-Gyadu 2012; Jurekovič 2024a).

This study contributes to Christian migration studies by shifting attention from embodied forms of religious mobility to transnational religious flows that are not limited to human migration. The existing scholarship—whether on reverse mission (Morier-Genoud 2018) or missionary work (Cavalcanti 2005)—frames migration primarily in terms of migrating bodies that carry with them symbols, doctrines, and religious materials. Yet in today’s globalized and interconnected world, religious forms can travel independently of physical movement. We present the initial findings from one such case: the international dissemination of Contemporary Christian Music (CCM), particularly contemporary worship music (CWM), and its impact on Christian communities in Slovenia.

During my PhD fieldwork among Evangelical and Charismatic Christians in Slovenia (2023–2024), one striking point of convergence across denominational contexts was church music. Whether led by a single vocalist with an acoustic guitar or by a full worship band, gatherings of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, Evangelicals or Pentecostals frequently incorporated very similar CWM pieces. The participants engaged in both individual and collective worship through music in ways closely resembling one another’s services, often using the very same repertoire. Although these observations initially remained only a marginal note in my doctoral research, they echo Klaver’s (2015, p. 97) emphasis on the centrality of music and singing in conversion narratives and formative spiritual experiences within Charismatic Christianity, which provides the point of departure for the present study. The importance of church music is of course nothing novel in the history of Christianity. For example, David Martin has noted how music has long played an integral role in Christian worship, and biblical tradition itself is deeply supportive of musical expression (Martin 2016, p. 674). A more recent development, however, is the extent to which worship music now circulates in increasingly standardized forms across denominations and around the globe.

The aim of this study is to analyse the key characteristics of CWM amongst Evangelical and Charismatic Christians in Slovenia. We have set out three research questions, which guide our study: First, what are the primary international sources of CWM adopted in Slovenia? Second, what criteria guide the selection and translation of worship songs? Third, what is the impact of foreign CWM on the local production of worship music? Drawing on publicly available databases of worship songs used in Slovenian Evangelical and Charismatic Christian communities, as well as semi-structured interviews with their administrators, the study investigates the adaptation of foreign CWM within Slovenian contexts of Christian worship. By situating Slovenia within broader transnational patterns, this article further contributes to understanding the dynamics of Charismatic worship music and its role in shaping contemporary Christian practices globally (Ingalls 2015). Our central premise is that, just as the printing press was crucial to the dissemination of the Protestant Reformation (Rubin 2014; Young 2017, pp. 101–2), the production, distribution, and consumption of contemporary worship music have become key technologies enabling the transnational portability of Charismatic Christianity as a distinctive mode of Christian life and practice (Csordas 2007a; Vásquez 2009).

To develop our argument, the paper is structured as follows. First, we provide a brief introduction to Charismatic Christianity, outlining its basic typology and situating CWM production within the broader Charismatic landscape of Evangelical Christianity (P. Wagner 1999; Anderson 2016, p. 654). Second, we examine a central theological feature of Charismatic Christianity: the communal experience of encountering God (Warrington 2008). We focus on the role of CWM in facilitating such experiences, drawing on both theological and sociological scholarship. In doing so, we review the literature on CWM, establish the conceptual groundwork for our study, and highlight the significance of music in generating religious experience and enabling the global circulation of Charismatic Christianity. Before outlining our empirical methods and data collection procedures, we offer a brief overview of Evangelical and Charismatic Christianity in Slovenia to better contextualize our results. The core of the article consists of an analysis and discussion of the study’s initial findings. In conclusion, by exploring the adaptability and cross-denominational transferability of CWM across diverse Christian communities, we discuss how CCM contributes to the convergence of otherwise distinct Christian churches.

2. Theoretical Framework: Singing Their Heart, Experiencing the Spirit

2.1. Overview of Charismatic Christianity

While we agree that music has been an important component of all forms of Christianity, as Dueck and Reily demonstrate in their introduction to The Oxford Handbook of Music and World Christianities (Dueck and Reily 2016), there is something distinctive about the role of music within Charismatic Christianity. As Donald E. Miller and Tetsunao Yamamori argue in their contribution to the study of global Pentecostalism, music is not merely an addition to this religious phenomenon but rather its engine, adding that “the heart of Pentecostalism is the music” (Miller and Yamamori 2007, p. 24). Recognizing this requires an understanding of the general characteristics of what this study refers to as Charismatic Christianity.

We contend that Charismatic Christianity—also labelled as Pentecostal–Charismatic or Pentecostalism—can best be understood by referring to baptism in the Spirit and the manifestation of charismata, or gifts of the Spirit. We follow Allan Anderson’s authoritative definition of Charismatic Christianity as “the churches with a ‘family resemblance’ that emphasize the working of the Holy Spirit, especially in the use of such ‘gifts of the Spirit’ as healings, prophecies and speaking in tongues” (Anderson 2016, p. 653). It is precisely this definition that underpins our decision to employ the term Charismatic Christianity, thereby highlighting a shared theological foundation grounded in a distinctive form of religious experience. Beyond this, Charismatic Christianity remains difficult to define theologically. This difficulty stems from the diverse religious composition of Charismatics, who are found across Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox, and Anglican churches and communities. Thus, varieties abound—both in terms of scientific and theological delineations, as well as in terms of actual communities and churches (Hollenweger 1984, pp. 403–12; Robbins 2004, pp. 119–23; Bergunder 2007, pp. 52–71).

Building on Anderson’s framework, Charismatic Christianity is often described as three successive waves that today coexist. The first consists of Classical Pentecostals, which emerged as independent Protestant churches in the early twentieth century (Dayton 1987; Synan 1987). Their origin is usually traced to the Azusa Street Revival in Los Angeles, which was led by William Seymour between 1906 and 1909 (Robeck 2017). Emerging as a revival movement from the broader Methodist tradition, early Pentecostalism was distinguished by the doctrine that speaking in tongues served as the initial physical evidence of baptism in the Spirit, conceived as an experience distinct from water baptism. The revival soon gave rise to several Pentecostal denominations, which generally shared an emphasis on spiritual gifts and expressive forms of worship (Dayton 1987).

The second wave is often labelled as the Charismatic Renewal, which came about through a process of “Pentecostalization”, which took place within established Christian denominations in the 1950s and 1960s. It initially emerged among Episcopalians, continued within the Anglican Church, and most notably contributed to the establishment of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, which is of relevance to this study. The process of Pentecostalization entailed the adoption of key Pentecostal emphases, notably Spirit baptism, the manifestation of spiritual gifts, and distinctive worship styles. Although the Catholic Church underwent Pentecostalization relatively late—primarily in the aftermath of Vatican II—the Catholic Charismatic Renewal emerged as the most significant expression of the second wave of Charismatic Christianity (McGuire 1982).

The third wave involved the spread of Pentecostal-like practices across smaller Evangelical churches in the late twentieth century, giving rise to Neocharismatic communities. While Pentecostals founded separate churches and the Renewal transformed existing ones, the Neocharismatics represent a more independent Charismatic impulse (P. Wagner 1999; Anderson 2010, p. 18). Although scholars debate the existence of additional waves—particularly the New Apostolic Reformation (Christerson and Flory 2017)—the three-wave model remains widely used. While Catholics constituted the largest segment of the Charismatic Renewal, the third wave of Charismatic Christianity has largely been shaped by Protestant Evangelicals. Known as independent or postdenominational, Neocharismatics have embodied the institutional autonomy of Charismatic Christianity since the 1980s (P. Wagner 1988). As the most relevant Charismatic wave for our study, they are marked by theological flexibility, including a diminished emphasis on Classical Pentecostal doctrines, such as initial evidence, alongside new developments, particularly prosperity theology (Yong 2012) and a striking focus on mass worship events and worship music (Poloma 2003; Martí 2018). Kenneth Hagin’s Word of Life movement, Hillsong, the Vineyard movement and the Calvary Chapel are representative examples of Neocharismatic churches.

2.2. Encountering God Through Music

Charismatic Christianity, however, should not be understood merely as a cluster of likeminded denominations. As Albrecht and Howard emphasize, it represents less a doctrinal breakthrough than “a movement united in its experience of life in the Spirit” (Albrecht and Howard 2014, p. 235; see also Nel 2016). Accordingly, scholars and theologians are increasingly approaching Charismatic Christianity not only through its theological distinctives, but as a particular “modality” of contemporary Christianity (Ingalls 2015, p. 2), organized around experiential encounters with God’s presence (Cox 1995; Albrecht 1999; Warrington 2008; Lindhardt 2011, pp. 8–13). While Charismatics often describe experiencing God in everyday contexts, it is the communal dimension of such encounters that remains especially significant (Vondey 2012). These experiences are typically ritualized and embedded in shared worship practices.

In this respect, Robbins’ observation is instructive: ritual constitutes “in social scientific terms the most important” aspect of Charismatic Christianity (Robbins 2011, p. 65). Although the concept of ritual may sit uneasily with insider self-understandings, it has nevertheless proven analytically productive in the scholarly study of Charismatic Christianity (Albrecht 1999). In his seminal work on Pentecostal ritual, Daniel Albrecht examines the typical structure of Charismatic gatherings—whether Pentecostal, Evangelical, or Catholic—and argues that they generally unfold through three key components: worship, teaching, and response (Albrecht 1999, pp. 153–54). Worship, often treated as an overarching category of Charismatic ritual practice (Ingalls 2015, p. 4), is particularly central to the present study. Organized primarily around music, worship foregrounds “a specific set of rituals in which participants express devotion to God and experience divine presence in the context of a community” (Ingalls 2015, p. 4). Albrecht similarly identifies worship music as a key means “to help usher the congregation into the presence of God” (Albrecht 1999, p. 95; see also Land 1993). Likewise, Björkander (2024) analyses Charismatic worship as a transformative practice centred on music. She identifies four key dimensions: music structures meaningful ritual and communal bonds; synchronizes bodies, fostering collective unity; functions as a form of localized, oral theologizing; and mediates between participants and the Divine (Björkander 2024, p. 412). Her study provides a central point of departure for our analysis. Furthermore, the psychological research on the emotional effects of music in religious settings suggests that Charismatic worship music generates strong experiences of positive emotion and functions as a vehicle for religious experience (Miller and Strongman 2002).

This was confirmed by my own experience during my PhD fieldwork. For example, a Pentecostal pastor emphasized the key role of music in bringing about the congregational encounter with God during worship:

In simple terms, we want to prepare people to fellowship with God. In this sense, the songs start of with just a gathering of people, you know when you come in from the street, you are all thinking about your problems at home, or what else, we try to gather people’s minds and their hearts. By the end of the music set, you want people hearts to be open to receive from God. This is the job of the worship. To lead people to commune with God.

(Interviewee C)

Music is therefore central to Charismatic Christianity and an essential component of worship practice (T. Wagner 2017). Kgatle (2019), for instance, argues that singing is central to Pentecostal worship, which is “alive with different kinds of music” and functions not only as a medium for spiritual experience but also as a therapeutic resource. Williams likewise notes that Pentecostals “focus their worship on music,” such that a substantial portion of their services revolves around musical performance and congregational singing (Williams 2016, p. 45). In this sense, Charismatic and Evangelical worship music exhibits a distinctly instrumental dimension, whereby music serves as a means toward transcendent encounter rather than merely an aesthetic expression (Kahn-Harris and Moberg 2012).

The role of music in Christian Charismatic encounters of God brings us nicely to our core object of study: Contemporary Christian Music, particularly its subgenre, Christian worship music. As scholars have noted, the boundaries between CCM and CWM are notoriously difficult to disentangle (Abraham 2024, p. 243). Sonically, visually, and aesthetically, the two are often virtually indistinguishable, emerging from overlapping centres of production, circulation, and consumption (T. Wagner 2017, p. 91). This ambiguity was also acknowledged by our interviewees. Nevertheless, CCM and CWM may be analytically differentiated in terms of the intentions governing their use. Whereas CCM is typically oriented toward everyday listening and entertainment, often centred on individual consumption, CWM is explicitly directed toward God and embedded within communal practices of worship. As Interviewee 2 explained,

Not all CCM is worship music. When distinguishing between one and the other, I ask myself, who is this song about, who does it exalt? Me or God? Worship music is the kind that truly honors God, that speaks of a deeper relationship.

In recent decades, CCM has attracted considerable scholarly attention, particularly with regard to its history (Stowe 2011; Lim and Ruth 2017). Largely a product of US Evangelical Christianity, including its Charismatic dimensions, CCM’s origins can be traced to the Jesus Movement in the US, a Charismatic revival in the 1960s and 1970s. Central to its origins was Calvary Chapel, a Californian Neocharismatic church, which established the first CCM label, Marantha! (Abraham 2024, p. 243). From then on, CCM has gradually developed into one of the “fastest-growing genres of music”, with record sales “outselling those of classical, jazz and New Age combined” (Stowe 2011, p. 1). Nowadays, it is a global industry based in Nashville, where the key record labels of CCM and CWM have been established, together with the influential Gospel Music Association and the Dove Awards, CCM’s version of the Grammy. One key characteristic of CCM is its heterogeneity—both in terms of the splintered rationales and motivations of the diverse agents within CCM (Howard and Streck 1999), and in terms of the musical styles and genres. Meanwhile, others have stressed how CCM plays a crucial cultural role for evangelical Christians (Gormly 2003).

Initially popularized by Neocharismatic movements, such as Vineyard, and later propelled globally by the Australian megachurch Hillsong (Klaver 2021), CWM has become one of the most prominent and widely studied subgenres of CCM in recent years (Ingalls 2016). CWM is characterized by a distinctive soundscape (Puay et al. 2025), featuring predictable melodic structures and easily memorized lyrics, alongside recognizable vocal profiles, techniques, and performance postures (Neto 2010, pp. 195–97). According to Lim and Ruth, there are nine key qualities of worship and, by extension, CWM. In contrast to traditional hymnody, it employs non-archaic English and is adapted to contemporary concerns and aesthetic preferences. It draws heavily on musical styles from the secular popular music industry, allows for extended periods of congregational singing, and positions musicians as central figures in the liturgical space and leadership. It also emphasizes bodily expressiveness, tends toward informality, and relies extensively on electronic technology (Lim and Ruth 2017, p. 3). In recent decades, CWM has become integrated into the communal worship of most Christian denominations worldwide, whether Charismatic or not, and has come to represent “[the] face of the new millennium Christian church” (Neto 2010, p. 195). Nevertheless, CWM should not be treated as stylistically homogeneous. Ingalls (2017) demonstrates that, contrary to common scholarly and popular assumptions, the genre has undergone significant stylistic transformations over its roughly fifty-year history, shifting from early praise choruses and folk idioms to the Praise Pop of the 1980s and 1990s and the Praise Rock styles of the 2000s.

The scholarship has examined CWM from multiple analytical angles. One prominent line of inquiry concerns the lyrical content. Thornton (2023), for instance, analyses CWM lyrics as vehicles for idealized forms of performance in contemporary worship, while Riches (2016) explores the interplay of indigenous and non-indigenous worship languages as a foundation for global Christian civil society. At the same time, increasing attention has been paid to the productive force of CWM in shaping Christian subjects and embodied forms of religiosity (Lindenbaum 2012; Wade and Hynes 2013; Benjamins 2021).

Scholars have likewise emphasized CWM as a spiritual technology that facilitates distinctive religious experiences and enables the transnational circulation of particular forms of Christianity. These themes provide an important empirical backdrop for the present study. As noted above, a defining feature of CWM lies in its intentional and instrumental orientation toward cultivating an encounter with God (Miller and Yamamori 2007; Abraham 2024). Whereas early Pentecostal services were often only loosely structured, contemporary worship gatherings have become increasingly standardized, typically performed “in a block at the beginning of service” and carefully “curated for maximum affect” through the progression from high-tempo songs to slower, more intimate climaxes (Abraham 2024, p. 246). Particularly striking—and central to our analysis—is the broad appeal of CWM, which readily crosses denominational boundaries.

The empirical sociological research on CWM is organized around a set of main theoretical lenses, including Durkheimian effervescence, Adorno’s culture industry critique, and approaches to musical subcultures (Abraham 2024, pp. 247–50). The present study instead combines two frameworks: the musicking paradigm (Small 1998) and the mediational approach to religion (Nekola 2015, pp. 14–16). Accordingly, we treat music not as a fixed object (Ingalls 2015, p. 4) or artifact (Stowe 2011, p. 4), but as a social practice of sound-making sustained through the interactions among performers, audiences, producers, publishers, and record labels (Stowe 2011, pp. 4–5). Following Dueck and Reily’s insight that Christianity is “a sphere of practice and experience” made especially visible through music (Dueck and Reily 2016, p. 13), we adopt Small’s concept of musicking to foreground the creation, circulation, and reception of worship music. At the same time, the mediational approach, grounded in the material turn of religious studies, offers advantages for highlighting one key function of CWM: its role in mediating encounters with God, which is in line with the theological understanding of music as a key facilitator of the worshipper’s encounter with the Divine (Björkander 2024). Thus, we combine musicking and the mediational approach to explicitly engage with the scholarship on musical migration and localization, that is, “the process whereby Christian communities take a variety of musical practices—some considered ‘indigenous’, some ‘foreign’, some shared across spatial and cultural divides; some linked to past practice, some innovative—and make them locally meaningful and useful in the construction of Christian beliefs, theology, practice, and identity” (Ingalls et al. 2018, p. 13). In other words, this scholarship contributes to the intersection of CWM and migration. For example, Magowan (2007) has shown how the indigenous adoption of contemporary Charismatic worship music has produced translocal and hybrid musical identification, while other studies have engaged with the notion of localization and have pointed out that ‘Western’, ‘indigenous’ or ‘hybrid’ may not be applicable in some contexts (Perigo 2021). Although this study is situated within the scholarship on the impact of migrating Christian music, we also expand on these studies by providing an example of a majority Catholic and ex-socialist European country. This perspective is especially relevant for examining the transnational and interdenominational circulation of worship music. Accordingly, we ask how the global dissemination of predominantly Evangelical and Charismatic CWM across national and denominational boundaries should be understood, and what it means for Catholic communities, Charismatic and non-Charismatic alike, to worship using repertoires such as Hillsong.

Having outlined our theoretical framework, we now turn to the methodological foundations and data collection procedures before presenting the study’s findings.

3. Methodological Framework and Data Collection Process

This study makes use of three sets of empirical data. On the hand, the study relies on a qualitative analysis of two publicly available databases of CWM songs in Slovenia. These are administered and organized by the SaSu, an unofficial community of likeminded Christian worshippers, who translate foreign CWM and produce Slovenian CMW. The abbreviation stands for “Slavimo Skupaj”, which can be roughly translated as “Worship Together”, signalling its core intent.1 They publish and regularly update five different datasets of Excel spreadsheets; out of these, we analyse two, which seem most pertinent to our research questions. First, there is the general dataset in which they have compiled a list of every CWM song used in Slovenian churches. This makes it the largest one, entailing 1179 entries. For the purposes of this article, we will label this list as Database A. The entries are categorized into Slovenian author songs (72), their own official translations (191) and other translations. The other database is made up of 191 translations, officially conducted by SaSu. For the purposes of this article, we will label this list as Database B. Each entry in both datasets is given up to 12 tags: Original Title, Slovenian Translation (linked to a Google Documents text); Original Writer; Author of the Translation; First Lines; Slovenian Audio Recording; Original Recording; Date of Translation; Type of Song; Appendix 1—Text; Appendix 2—Sheet Music; Appendix 3—Other.

Given the unofficial nature of these datasets, not all entries are complete. Accordingly, the first step of analysis consisted of cleaning both databases by removing entries with missing key information, most importantly the Original Author or Original Title. This procedure reduced the databases to 924 and 184 entries, respectively. Next, the 184 entries contained in Database B were excluded from Database A, as were the 72 songs authored in Slovenia, since these were not of direct interest for our study. Finally, and most importantly, duplicates were removed from Database A. As will be discussed below, one of SaSu’s primary motivations was to reduce the “translation chaos” in the Slovenian worship field, as multiple churches had often produced different translations of the same song.

In total, we identified and removed 157 duplicate entries of 110 songs, resulting in a final corpus of 514 unique songs in Database A. Thus, 110 out of 514 songs (21.4%) had at least one duplicate translation, with some songs translated as many as five times. Subsequently, the remaining songs and their associated metadata were imported into MAXQDA for qualitative coding. Due to its heterogeneous composition, Database A was coded only for the number of duplicates and the language of origin. Database B, comprising the 184 songs officially translated by SaSu, was coded in greater detail. Each song was coded according to seven key variables: author, publishing label, year of publication, year of translation, church of origin, language of origin, and country of origin.

The analysis of the primary dataset was complemented by a series of semi-structured interviews with the administrators and translators involved in the SaSu database. Using non-random, non-probability sampling, the SaSu organization was first contacted through its online contact form and invited to participate in a research interview. Following one completed interview, two further participants were recruited through snowball sampling. The inclusion criteria were twofold: first, participants were required to be members of a Christian community in Slovenia; second, they needed to be actively engaged in the translation and/or production of CWM. Given the relatively small size of Charismatic and Evangelical worship networks in Slovenia, three interviewees were successfully recruited.

During the semi-structured interviews, the participants were first asked to briefly describe their religious backgrounds. This was followed by questions concerning their understandings of CWM, including whether they considered CWM to be specifically connected to Christian Charismatic spirituality. Subsequently, the interviewees were invited to discuss their involvement in the SaSu project, the development and administration of the SaSu database, and any additional organizational practices through which they contribute to the translation and/or production of CWM in Slovenia. Third, the participants were asked in detail about their translation processes, including the criteria guiding song selection, their approach to translation, and the principal challenges involved in rendering worship music into Slovene. Finally, they were asked to reflect on the broader impact of translating CWM into Slovene, as well as on the significance of producing locally authored Slovenian worship music for Christian communities in Slovenia. All the interviews were conducted in person between October and December 2025. They were audio-recorded and transcribed verbatim, with the transcripts subsequently imported into MAXQDA for a thematic analysis using a combination of inductive and deductive coding strategies. The interview recordings were deleted immediately from the recording device, while securely stored backup files were destroyed following successful transcription. To protect participant anonymity in accordance with the study’s ethical protocol, no identifying information is disclosed. Participants are identified in the analysis only as Interviewee 1, Interviewee 2, and Interviewee 3.

Finally, in rare instances, this study also draws on 41 semi-structured interviews conducted during my PhD research, completed in 2025. These interviews were carried out between July 2023 and May 2024 among Evangelical, Classical Pentecostal, Catholic Charismatic, and Neocharismatic Christians in Slovenia. Although the project primarily examined conversion narratives and the embodied dimensions of Charismatic Christianity, the discussions of worship often generated relevant reflections on worship music, which were retained for later analysis in the present study. As an institutional ethics review was not required for the doctoral research, none was sought. Nevertheless, written informed consent was secured from all participants. As with the current study, the participants were anonymized and are referred to as Interviewee A, Interviewee B, and so forth, to distinguish them from the more recent interviewees. The analysis of the interviews began with a close reading of each transcript to identify the passages relevant to the research questions. Using a coding framework pre-organized around the study’s analytical focus, selected excerpts were coded inductively to identify emergent themes. These qualitative findings were then interpreted in dialogue with the relevant theological and sociological scholarship, as well as with the quantitative and descriptive analysis of the worship song databases outlined above. The results of this combined analytical approach are presented in the following sections.

4. Results and Analysis

Before presenting our findings, we provide a brief contextual framework for understanding Charismatic Christianity in Slovenia. As widely documented, Charismatic Christianity has expanded rapidly worldwide since its emergence at the turn of the twentieth century. With an estimated 676 million adherents (Zurlo 2026), Charismatic Christianity has been described as the fastest-growing religious movement in human history (Berger 2014, p. 24). Were Charismatics considered an independent denomination, they would rank second only to Roman Catholics in numerical terms. The largest share consists of Neocharismatics, followed by Charismatics within established churches, particularly the Catholic Church. A further defining feature is their global distribution, marking the rise of global Christianity (Zurlo 2022). Approximately 82% of Charismatics now reside in the Global South (Johnson and Ross 2009, pp. 101–2).

The data on Charismatic Christians in Europe could not be more different. Whether we take the estimate of 17 million (Kay and Dyer 2011, p. 403), 31.6 million (Johnson and Ross 2009, p. 103) or 37.5 million (GloPent 2026), Europe possesses the smallest proportion of Charismatics. Despite the endeavours of so-called reverse mission churches (Burgess 2011), the majority of European Charismatics are affiliated with the Catholic renewal (Burgess and van der Maas 2007, p. 815). In this light, Slovenia, the focus of our study, is a paradigmatic example of European Charismatic Christianity.

Slovenia is a predominantly Catholic countr. Approximately 60% of its two million inhabitants identify with the Catholic Church, while only 1.3% affiliate with non-Lutheran, non-Catholic churches, a category that includes Classical Pentecostals and Evangelicals (SJM 2025). Given the scarcity of social-scientific research on Slovenian non-Catholic Christians, such figures should be treated cautiously. Based on my own qualitative PhD fieldwork, I estimate there are roughly 4000 Classical Pentecostals in Slovenia. Although largely autonomous, the fourteen contemporary Classical Pentecostal churches in Slovenia are affiliated with a national umbrella organization, the Pentecostal Church in Slovenia, which is itself a member of the global Assemblies of God movement. This affiliation situates them firmly within a traditional Pentecostal lineage. Their origins date back to 1933, and Pentecostals initially functioned primarily as a Protestant revival movement among the predominantly Lutheran population of northeastern Slovenia. Since the 1990s, Pentecostal churches have relaxed certain Holiness prescriptions, including adopting more expressive forms of worship and contemporary musical styles.

Catholic Charismatics constitute a large and institutionally visible segment within the Slovenian Catholic Church. Although the Charismatic Renewal emerged in Slovenia in 1972, it did not substantially expand until the 1990s, following independence and the liberalization of the religious field. At its peak, the movement included up to 40,000 participants. However, due to its precarious position within the Slovenian Catholic Church, difficulties in generational leadership succession, and the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, its numbers have declined sharply to approximately 10,000 Catholic Charismatics—approximately two-thirds of all Charismatic Christians in Slovenia. Although Catholic Charismatics in Slovenia are affiliated with the international CHARIS movement, they receive limited institutional support within a largely non-Charismatic Catholic hierarchy. Nevertheless, each archdiocese appoints a local coordinator for the Catholic Charismatic Renewal. The movement operates primarily through weekly worship meetings composed of approximately 10–15 lay participants, as well as occasional seminar-style gatherings that attract around 500 members.

Comparable dynamics shaped the expansion of the Evangelical movement in Slovenia during the late 1990s and early 2000s, which later facilitated the emergence of Neocharismatic communities. In this paper, the term “Neocharismatic” is used to designate Charismatic or Pentecostalized Evangelicals in Slovenia. Within Anderson’s typology, they correspond to the so-called third wave, although some may more appropriately align with the subsequently identified fourth wave of Independent Network Christianity (Christerson and Flory 2017). For the purposes of this analysis, however, these distinctions are not analytically decisive. Their defining characteristic is identification as Protestant Evangelicals who, often having been raised within Pentecostal churches or the Catholic Church, later distanced themselves in pursuit of a more authentic and experientially expressive relationship with Jesus Christ. Although no official statistics are available, several indicative estimates suggest that Slovenia contains approximately 43 Evangelical churches (including Classical Pentecostals), alongside 13 non-church organizations. The denominational boundaries remain difficult to define, yet several evangelical Neocharismatic congregations have gained visibility in the past 20 years. These include the Calvary Christian Church, affiliated with the globally recognized Calvary Chapel movement, and the International Christian Community, led by a former Assemblies of God missionary pastor from Michigan. Drawing on these estimates and my own fieldwork, I suggest that Slovenia is home to roughly 700 Neocharismatics and around 1000 Evangelicals. Taken together, it is reasonable to assume that there are approximately 15,000 Charismatic Christians of various traditions in Slovenia, making them a small religious minority within a population of two million.

As discussed below, the limited size of Evangelical and Charismatic communities constitutes an essential contextual factor. While their minority status constrains the local production and dissemination of Slovenian CWM, it also encourages interdenominational cooperation as a strategy for institutional and cultural endurance. The analysis that follows presents the study’s findings through five overarching themes characteristic of Slovenian CWM.

4.1. Discontents with Traditional Worship Music and the Appeal of CMW

To better understand the gradual adoption of CWM, it is useful to begin at a time when worship sessions—both in denominations such as Classical Pentecostalism and Baptist traditions and in the Charismatic Renewal—still relied entirely on hymnody. All of our interviewees recalled the period of hymn singing with a degree of nostalgia, although their memories are often marked by the discomfort and limitations that accompanied these forms of communal worship. For instance, Interviewee 1 recounted being asked to lead worship in their Baptist church at the age of fourteen, simply because they were able to play the piano:

I knew how to play, so I played in church. Back then, that meant we had a hymnbook with about 500 songs. Someone would raise their hand and say, “I want number 412,” and I would open it and had to play and sing so that everyone could sing along. In our churches, everyone sings—there isn’t a choir—so sometimes it was like I only knew that one chord, which was the worst, because all the songs had five sharps and you were just helpless. I cried many times, saying I wouldn’t do it anymore—that it was cruelty upon cruelty—being in a role where I embarrassed myself every time I went up to the piano. My parents encouraged me a lot, and there was a lot of grace, and they kept telling me to continue.

Growing up in a Pentecostal church, Interviewee 3 had similar experiences with traditional worship:

I started leading worship in church with the organ, with hymns and hymnbooks. We opened them, people were sitting, not standing. We stood only when reading God’s Word. You played and sang—you played from sheet music. On the organ, you played from the notes, so many songs. You didn’t play chords; that came only later. As for instruments—there were no drums, and guitars were rare. It wasn’t very rhythmic; it depended a lot on the person leading, and on how well people sang rhythmically, more than on the song itself. It was well known that there were certain women with strong voices who would hold a half note or a whole note much longer than they were supposed to.

This limited ability to engage in worship without a certain level of musical competence became a crucial factor in the Slovenian Evangelical and Charismatic shift toward more contemporary styles of worship music. Interviewee 1 explained:

The difficulty is that hymns were often four-part, multi-voice singing, which makes them very hard to perform and hard to play. You must really be a trained musician. And what if you come to a church or a house group and you don’t have anyone? Then you can’t worship. […] They are demanding to perform and difficult for an entire congregation to sing together—especially in gatherings of ordinary people who are not musicians. It’s almost impossible to carry out, and even back then it was becoming clear that it was too complex. People find it hard to participate.

Traditional hymn music, characterized by choirs, hymns, organs and printed books, was often defended by its supporters for its musical sophistication and theological depth. From this perspective, traditional church music was understood as more firmly God centred (Graham 2020, pp. 81–85). This came up time and time again in our interviews as well. For example, Interviewee 1 said:

The advantage of hymns is that they were stories, and people remembered them very well—that was a huge plus. Even today, I can more easily remember the story I sang as a child because it actually flowed meaningfully. You remembered the narrative, and then one truth about God was repeated through the chorus, and it really stayed with you.

This development aligns with a central argument in the scholarly literature on the transition from traditional to contemporary worship practices. Graham observed that traditional forms of church music often functioned as a sort of gatekeeping mechanism, restricting participation for those lacking musical knowledge or formal training (Graham 2020, p. 91). Thus, CWM was predominantly seen as more conducive for congregational worship and more simple in terms of message. In other words, the greatest merit of CWM was its accessibility—both for worship leaders and the congregation (Graham 2020, p. 85). This makes CWM essentially congregation focused, as worship cannot be a matter of passive reception but active participation (Graham 2020, p. 91). This was amplified by Interviewee 1’s metaphor of food:

Simpler music is easier for musicians, and maybe the content is also easier to absorb in today’s world. We have such a flood of information that deep, rich theology is hard to digest. Here, the messages are simpler, the song last longer, they repeat more, so they’re easier to process. In that sense, it’s simpler. But it’s also because it’s less rich—too raw. If you know there is a gourmet meal that truly satisfies you deeply, fills you, and gives you many flavors, then—to use that comparison—this is like fast food. You eat it more often, and in the end, it can still be spiritually sustaining. But it is more accessible and shallower, not nourishing enough.

Interviewee 3 noted similar differences in terms of singing and participating in worship:

It is more a difference in performance and musical style. In terms of content, hymns usually had more verses, although some worship songs also include verses. Hymns were generally longer, which gives them a certain richness, because they describe their themes in greater detail. Contemporary worship songs sometimes use very short phrases, especially in English, where you can express a lot with just a few words. In Slovenian, we often need to explain things a bit more to capture the same meaning. Contemporary songs therefore tend to contain less textual content than hymns did. In that sense, hymns are much richer.

This is in line with Graham’s observation of contemporary worship songs as “easy to sing along with, easy to play, easy to memorize, catchy and exhilarating, and all the more so insofar as they resonate with and build upon the sound of music in everyday modern world” (Graham 2020, p. 91). While this transition in Slovenia was not easy, it was less conflict-ridden than in North America, where the clash between competing types of worship music resulted in so-called worship wars (Ruth 2017). In Slovenia, the organ was gradually replaced by guitars or keyboards and hymns by choruses. That is, hymn-based, God-centred music was replaced by congregation-centred CWM.

This gradual transition from traditional hymn singing to contemporary worship was—according to our responders—mainly spurred by American Evangelical missionaries at first. While Povedák (2014) noted how foreign CWM gradually replaced more localized religious beat movements within the Hungarian Catholic Church, no such development seemed to have occurred in Slovenia. Here, American-style CWM simply replaced traditional hymn singing in Catholic and Protestant churches, which highlights the imported character of CWM in Slovenia. While it was at first tied to Protestant missionaries, the spread of CWM soon became detached from specific missionaries, enabled by the advancement of digital online technologies and platforms, first via YouTube and subsequently through Spotify.

Furthermore, the move towards CWM cannot be understood as a purely musical development. Rather, it also entails a transformation in the social organization of worship—and, by extension, in the structure of church life more broadly. As Ingalls (2017) observes, musical styles may function to include or exclude certain participants. For instance, the amplification of a central vocalist or worship team produces what she terms a “sonic hierarchy,” in which only some voices are made audible. Moreover, when the worship leader is expected to play the guitar, this can contribute to the privileging of men, since women are more commonly socialized into keyboard-based roles within church music practices (Ingalls 2017, p. 8). Additionally, it can be a move towards more informal worship, characterized by extemporization (Martin 2016, p. 655) and “casual dress, less-formal liturgy, more-straightforward spiritual messages, and contemporary-sounding church music that everyone could sing without burying their nose in a hymnal” (Stowe 2011, p. 3).

4.2. From Chaos to Order: Localization and the Origins of SaSu

However, the transition to CWM introduced new challenges. With no centralized institutions, Evangelical and Christian Charismatic communities began adopting and translating CWM songs independently. According to Interviewee 3, this resulted in nothing less than “chaos”. In practice, different communities and churches would use different translations of the same CWM songs, which they mainly adapted from the Anglophone world. This created a rather unique situation where some songs would have up to five different translations, making the communal worship of more than one community—Protestant or Catholic—near impossible. In other words, musical localization was messy and uneven. As Interviewee 2 remembered,

As someone who was very connected to different churches, I got totally blocked when I heard a stupid translation and then another translation of a song, and I couldn’t worship anymore. This repeated itself for a couple of years and it tormented me.

This led a handful of likeminded Christians to start thinking about the standardization of CWM translations, which eventually gave rise to a collective now known as “SaSu—Slavimo Skupaj”, roughly translated as Worship Together. Recollecting its beginnings, Interviewee 2 formulated SaSu’s mission statement: “Chaos spreads very easily.” SaSu was initiated precisely to ensure that such disorder would no longer persist”. Thus, the project was set up with four specific aims in mind: first, to standardize translations of Christian worship and non-worship songs; second, to improve the quality of translations; third, to collect existing translations to prevent the creation of new versions; and lastly, to bring churches together through worship (SaSu 2026).

Yet, as one of the founding members of the unofficial collective explained, its beginnings in 2009 were challenging. At first, the response from fellow worshipers in other Evangelical and Catholic communities was dismissive. Faced with limited support, the core team, consisting of three to four translators, shifted to a more basic mission: to catalogue every song used in Slovenian churches for worship. Thus, between 2011 and 2013, the small group of enthusiasts went from church to church, composing the first list of translated songs, which eventually resulted in what we label here as Database A. As Interviewee 2 explained, they were guided by a simple aim: not to impose new translations on Christian communities.

In 2013, they started translating their first songs. Powerless to force churches and communities to standardize their translations, they set out to work without any guarantees that this would be a worthwhile endeavour. Coming from diverse musical and denominational traditions—ranging from Catholic to Baptist, Pentecostal, and Neocharismatic contexts—the participants required a clearly articulated common framework. The Protestants, who were fewer in number than the Catholics, expressed concerns about being culturally and musically overshadowed within the collaboration. To establish a shared theological basis, the group formulated a set of fourteen theses, grounded in 1 Corinthians 15, which articulated their core Christian convictions and functioned as a unifying doctrinal reference point (SaSu 2026).2 As Interviewee 2 added, “we avoided translating songs about saints or Mary, as these themes are not universally shared”. However, disagreements emerged between the Baptist-leaning and more Charismatic-leaning Evangelicals when it came to lyrics about the Holy Spirit, especially the question of whether a baptized Christian receives the Spirit.

Following the establishment of their theological bedrock, they proceeded to refine their working process, which Interviewee 2 explained as follows:

Anyone who wants to can submit a text for review. I put it into a spreadsheet, line by line, and others add their comments. Those of us who have been doing this for a longer time can immediately see what works and what doesn’t—whether the rhythm fits, whether the wording is appropriate, whether something feels awkward. Over the years, we have refined one another’s work. For example, my daughter insists that you cannot write a monosyllabic word in a place where it could be pronounced as either one or two syllables. If we write it as one, others will sing it as two. In the end, the initial translator has to produce the final version. If something is completely off, we discuss it as much as possible, but everything ultimately depends on the first translator. The idea is that at least three people review the text—four or five together with the main translator—so it is a fairly standard editorial process.

Given the project’s volunteer-based nature, the time required to complete a translation varies widely, ranging from one week to one month, and in some cases extending to several months or even a full year. As Interviewee 2 explained, the translation quality is assessed according to three main priorities: fidelity to Scripture, the preservation of the semantic and rhythmic essence of the original lyrics, and the melodic compatibility of the translated text. After approval by the core SaSu team, each translation is reviewed by an MA theologian and then proofread. Common translation errors arise from the tensions between linguistic accuracy and performative suitability. One frequent issue is rhythmic mismatch, where the translated lyrics fail to align precisely with the original musical meter, creating difficulties in congregational performance and potentially hindering authorial approval. Another problem involves overly literal renderings that ignore natural Slovenian expression and the broader semantic fields of words across languages. Translators must also avoid excessive personal pronouns, incorrect stress patterns introduced for rhyme, and dialectal accent variations. Grammatical inaccuracies, such as improper use of reflexive possessive pronouns, further reduce clarity.

The core translation team consists of approximately five members, including Catholics, Baptists, Pentecostals, and Neocharismatics. Its composition varies depending on members’ church and family obligations. Given this denominational diversity, considerable effort is devoted to maintaining a cooperative and collegial collaboration. SaSu’s website (SaSu 2026) outlines the guiding principles of its work ethic:

We want to communicate with constructive suggestions. Humility must guide us; we want to respect one another (if we do not feel humility in our hearts, let us ask the Lord to give it to us so that we can continue working). The opinions of others should not be superfluous to us, but rather welcome. Through working together, we learn to hand the reins over to God and not to enforce our own desires. We want to be united in prayer, asking God to guide us, and asking Him to help us tame our pride so that we can see His will.

Over the past sixteen years, the efforts of committed worship practitioners have resulted in the development of four publicly accessible databases on the organization’s official website. According to Interviewee 2, SaSu’s translations were initially used predominantly by Catholics, whereas Evangelical and other Protestant Charismatic churches were more hesitant to adopt standardized translations due to their reliance on locally produced versions. However, within five years, approximately 80% of Protestant churches and communities in Slovenia began using SaSu’s databases.

4.3. Americanization of Worship in Slovenia

The analysis of Datasets A and B reveals several recurring patterns. Most notably, the non-local worship music used in Slovenia is overwhelmingly Anglophone, largely produced in the United States, and in most cases rooted in Evangelical Christian contexts. Out of the 770 songs included in our analysis of Datasets A and B, only 72 (9.3%) were originally written in Slovenian. In other words, 90.7% of the worship songs used in Slovenian Christian contexts are of foreign origin. Of these, 667 (86.6%) were originally written in English. The remaining songs were originally written in Spanish (7; 1.0%), German (7; 1.0%), Croatian (6; 0.8%), and Italian (5; 0.6%). Additionally, one song each was originally composed in Romani, Serbian, Hebrew, Czech, Slovak, and Bosnian.

A closer look at Database B, which includes only SaSu translations, reveals a more detailed picture. First, their classification as CWM is supported by the observation that 179 of the 184 songs were originally recorded and released after 2000. Second, 172 songs (93.4%) were originally written in English, mirroring the patterns observed in Dataset A. Of these, 130 originated from the United States, 27 from Australia, eight from the United Kingdom, two from Nigeria, and one from Singapore. Thus, 70.6% of the officially translated SaSu repertoire in Dataset B derives from the United States. The remaining twelve songs reflect a diverse set of national origins, including four from Croatia, two from Germany, and one each from the Czech Republic, Israel, Slovakia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and the Dominican Republic.

Asked whether translations follow popular international CWM, Interviewee 2 replied that

No, there simply isn’t enough time. There are only three or four of us who are active, and we cannot do everything. We are covering only the most basic needs. When a request comes in—it’s also like this: if the Holy Spirit does not open the words to you, it doesn’t work. You cannot force it. Sometimes I listen to a song, and the words just start flowing together; I hear them, I sit down, and I can translate it in half an hour. Other times I struggle with a request for several weeks, if the Holy Spirit does not give me the right words. You can clearly see that something comes in a certain moment. You cannot do this by force. This is a spiritual matter, and it is also an artistic matter. If it is forced, then spiritually and artistically it has no power—no authority, no artistic value—nothing.

Overall, SaSu’s translations are driven by demand within Slovenian churches. Others, too, noted the inescapable nature of popular CWM music. For example, Interviewee 3 said that

When I was translating, Hillsong was extremely well known, and I translated most of their songs. I enjoyed them, and they were also very popular at the time. You translate what is current, what is being sung everywhere around the world. Wherever you go, you hear the same songs. For example, our pastor was in Switzerland, Canada, and other places, and heard I Call Jesus (Israel Houghton) in countless different languages. These are the songs that are “in,” so naturally they need to be translated, because that is what people want to sing.

It is no surprise that Databases A and B strongly overlap with the top song lists compiled by Christian Copyright Licensing International (CCLI), which are amongst the most popular CWM songs globally (Thornton 2023). This pattern is further reflected in the close alignment between the Slovenian translations and global worship charts. For instance, among the ten most popular CWM songs in the United States as of 19 January 2026, eight have been translated into Slovene, while all of the top ten songs in the United Kingdom have Slovene translations (CCLI 2026). It is therefore unsurprising that Hillsong is the most frequently translated worship group, accounting for 23 songs, or approximately 12% of all entries in Database B. Other leading figures in the contemporary worship industry are similarly prominent, including Elevation Worship and Chris Tomlin with nine entries each, Bethel Music with eight, and Phil Wickham with six. Database B also underscores the influence of key record labels whose repertoires have been translated into Slovene. Alongside Hillsong Music, these include Integrity Music (21 songs), Bethel Music (12), Capitol Christian Music Group (12), Sparrow Records (11), and Fair Trade Services (10). Provident Label Group (seven), Essential Worship (six), and Kingsway Music (five) are likewise represented.

An examination of the communities of origin represented in Database B reveals a striking Protestant predominance. Of the 184 songs included, 165 (89.6%) originated within Evangelical contexts, compared to six from Anglican traditions and only five from the Catholic Church. This distribution is particularly notable given the significant involvement of Catholics within the SaSu translation team. Within the Protestant corpus, Charismatic Evangelical and Neocharismatic communities are the most strongly represented, accounting for 75 entries (approximately 40% of the total). These are followed by non-denominational origins with 44 songs, and then Baptist and Pentecostal traditions with 14 entries each. Beyond Hillsong, Bethel Church (16), Light Church (six), and Vineyard (four) appear most frequently. The non-denominational contributions are largely associated with Passion City Church (10) and Journey Church (four), while Elevation Church constitutes the most prominent Baptist source.

Overall, these patterns correspond closely with Ingalls’ analysis of contemporary worship music in the 2010s, where the pop-rock mainstream associated with Hillsong, Passion, Bethel, and Gateway dominated popular worship repertoires (Ingalls 2017, pp. 12–13). This may be explained by the age make-up of Slovenian Evangelical and Charismatic communities, which are predominantly middle-aged. While Ingalls notes the emergence of gospel-inflected alternatives, exemplified by Israel Houghton, such developments have not yet gained comparable traction in Slovenia, with only two of his songs translated. This may reflect the ethnic homogeneity of Slovenian congregations, since Houghton’s fusion of rock, R&B, and gospel is often linked to efforts to bridge ethnic divisions within diverse worship communities (Ingalls 2017, p. 12).

Given the global character of contemporary Christianity (Zurlo 2022), this represents a strikingly Western repertoire of worship music. As Thornton observes, the Western production centres of CWM continue to exert “dominant influences on contemporary worship globally,” even as churches in the majority world now surpass Western churches in numerical growth (Thornton 2023, p. 3). This imbalance carries important implications for Slovenian CWM. Before turning to these, however, it is necessary to highlight another distinctive feature of the Slovenian case: the extent of cross-denominational cooperation shaping its worship music landscape.

4.4. Interdenominational Collaboration

Although interdenominational cooperation has been noted before, it is worth emphasizing this dynamic. In Slovenia, a Catholic-majority country, mainstream and Charismatic Catholics, Baptists, and even Neocharismatic communities regularly collaborate, particularly in worship music. For instance, during my PhD research, a prominent leader in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal described their engagement with Hillsong music in the following terms:

In fact, the best are Protestant, particularly Hillsong songs. They are sung a lot and there are no restrictions here. Why, if it is a beautiful song of praise, should we look at who wrote it and which church it comes from? In fact, there are many songs in the Renewal, especially newer ones, that come from the Pentecostal church, from these Protestant churches. They certainly have this worship perfected in that sense. They have excellent musicians, and they devote a lot more to it because it is almost the only foundation on which they build. They have this part down, just as they have the word of God and its interpretation, they are much stronger in this because it is all they have. In this regard, we often help each other here, and I see no reason why we shouldn’t.

(Interviewee B)

Interestingly, the easiness with which predominantly Charismatic Catholics adopt Protestant, mainly Hillsong, music was noted in Hungary as well (Povedák 2014, p. 143). Back in Slovenia, Interviewee 2 spoke in similar terms when describing her cooperation with Catholics in music:

What we do is for everyone, and we work a lot with Catholics. At first, I tried to keep my distance from them because I have a history there—that sense of lifelessness, those rituals. But the more I tried to push them away, the more God kept bringing them into my life. So yes, when we come together at concerts, we share the same music, and I can listen to their bands too.

Asked whether she had any problems with Catholics and their worship music, Interviewee 3, a Pentecostal, remarked

When it comes to music, not really. The only issue would be theology—that’s where I obviously wouldn’t want to compromise. I do believe they make very beautiful music. I was just at a Catholic music festival. It was great, I really enjoyed it. I saw all those young people up front, having a great time. I don’t think we’re that different. It mostly comes down to what the worship is directed toward. In general, it’s more about worshipping God, not Mary. If it were focused on Mary, that would bother me.

The primary driver of collaboration is material: the division of labour. Given the size of each community, Slovenian Christians are unable to maintain strict denominational boundaries, since each community relies on a handful of individuals for the day-to-day running of its churches. That is, theological boundary work is often sidestepped to make the creation of CWM possible. When asked whether Protestant worship leaders can gather regularly for mutual support, Interviewee 3 answered in the negative, pointing to constraints in space and resources:

We are, of course, planning to build a new building when that becomes more feasible, because you need space. Otherwise, you have to rent venues, which immediately becomes an expense, since our churches are simply too small. The problem is that in Slovenia, for all worship musicians, this is not our main occupation—we all have other jobs. If you compare this to worship groups in the West, in places like the United States, Canada, or Australia, there are people whose full-time role is worship ministry in the church, and they therefore have the time to dedicate themselves to it. We do this alongside everything else. Every single one of us. All of us are volunteers when it comes to CWM and worship bands.

This dynamic underscores the theoretical perspective of musicking. CWM constitutes a distinct musical form, differentiated from other contemporary pop-rock genres by its explicit orientation toward praising God and facilitating entry into the divine presence. In this sense, CWM may be understood as a particular kind of spiritual technology. Although its mission is understood as divine, this kind of technology is socially constructed and therefore shaped by social forces that condition the possibilities for its production, circulation, and reception. As part of the broader network of material elements that constitute worship sessions, CWM holds central significance for Charismatic Christians. Accordingly, ensuring its provision to the community is equally vital. During my PhD research, for instance, numerous Charismatic Catholics observed that worship groups often faltered in the absence of a musician or when congregational singing was weak. Given the limited pool of musicians within each congregation, cross-denominational collaboration becomes essential for maintaining local CWM production and a minimal level of standardization in imported CWM. Although this remains speculative, it does seem likely that such collaboration may extend beyond music, facilitating a greater sense of common Christian belonging.

When it comes to local music (re)production, Catholics hold a material advantage due to their institutionalization, in contrast to broader trends that identify Evangelicals as the main drivers of CWM (Howard and Streck 1999, p. 10). For example, Interviewee 2 explained that “This collaboration is primarily oriented toward Catholics, since the Catholic Church has greater financial resources, a larger membership, and consequently more opportunities and institutional support.” However, Catholics do not necessarily have it easy. Interviewee 1, a Baptist who runs a Slovenian YouTube channel dedicated to CWM, noted her collaboration with several Catholics, both in worship bands and in providing technical support, and emphasized the power of CWM to form cross-denominational links:

Currently, we’re collaborating with a Catholic band. Our video production is also done by Catholics as well. There’s piano, musicians, and we sometimes invite other musicians from the Catholic scene. It is a group of girls from Maribor and we recognized that we could work together. They also felt like they couldn’t really move forward on their own. They are gifted, but they’re limited because in their parish they don’t have a band, they don’t have the money… Then they said, “Hey,” and we went through this whole process of getting to know each other, and that’s why we started collaborating. There are Catholics on our channel, which is great, because they can help bridge that truth we want to live by: that Christian music breaks down the walls between different Christian communities.

Interviewee 2 highlighted key material differences in the organization of Protestant communities in Catholic-majority Slovenia compared to the United States and noted a frequent lack of understanding amongst foreign benefactors. Reflecting on the operations of a Baptist organization that sends American missionaries to Slovenia, she explained that

The organization has its own missionaries, supported and sent from the United States, and sometimes they say, for example, “Oh, you are not allowed to go to a Pentecostal church.” This is especially pointless, because people in the United States do not really grasp how necessary it is for us to remain connected. We are so small that we cannot afford to create separate “little gardens” for ourselves—we have to be united. They do not feel this urgency when they have two thousand people in a single church. Here, however, we have this need: when there are three young people here and four there, they have to know each other. That is why the Pentecostal prayer and worship centre, where other Evangelicals also come, has now become a crucial hub. The circumstances are simply very different, and they do not understand this in the United States.

While CWM is a crucial space for driving interdenominational cooperation due to the division of labour within Evangelical and Charismatic communities, it has also brought with itself important challenges for Slovenian Christian communities.

4.5. Discontents: What Is Lost in and with Translation?

In his studies on the transnational flows of Hillsong, the media studies scholar Mark Evans intriduced the concept of songlines to describe the homogenization force of the global Christian music industry through local adaptations (Evans 2015). Based on his Swedish case studies, he pointed to two particular consequences of the global migration and adaptation of CWM, the proliferation of translations and the disappearance of local songwriting. Similarly, Kgatle wrote about African Pentecostals translating English songs into indigenous languages as a form of decolonization and Africanization, stressing that Pentecostals should “sing with understanding” (Kgatle 2019, p. 4).

As noted earlier, the gradual replacement of traditional hymn singing by CWM has brought about a particular kind of translational chaos, from which SaSu emerged. However, the translation of foreign, predominantly American, British and Australian songs has brought with it another problem—the feeling of a forced style of worship. In other words, it raises a fear of the global standardization of worship, and the question of sincerity (Abraham 2018). Other scholars have noted this as well. For example, Martí’s (2018) analysis of Hillsong portrays it as a driving force of “an ongoing elaboration of evangelicalism”, blurring the boundaries between Charismatic and Evangelical Christianity. Similarly, Abraham believes Hillsong represents a distinct worship style, which is both “highly subjective” and “highly standardized” (Abraham 2018, p. 2).

The perceived pressure to adopt externally imposed styles and content in musical worship emerged clearly in the interviews. For instance, although Interviewee 1 expressed appreciation for standardized translations, she also lamented an over-reliance on foreign CWM:

I find it sad that we constantly have to translate the way Australians love God, the way Americans love God—I find that truly disappointing. Why is it that they are allowed to do it and know how to do it, while we do not? And when we try, why is it not valued? We are a poetic nation, and I do not understand why, when it comes to God, our own voice becomes so muted. Even what could once be heard has, under foreign influence, been largely replaced within the church. I think that is a loss. No good fruit will come from this if the trend is not stopped. Do not get me wrong—foreign worship music speaks to me as well. But it should at least be balanced, fifty-fifty. Catholics, for example, held on quite well to producing their own music, but now it is mostly just covers. You go to a worship evening, and you no longer know whether you are in a Catholic church, a Protestant one, or something else. The songs are the same.

This quote points to an important scholarly issue of localization and hybridity. As noted above, some studies have recently shown how translation itself can bring about a sense of identification (Perigo 2021), or at least a sense of hybrid belonging to both international Christian and indigenous currents (Magowan 2007); this does not appear to be the case in Slovenia. Localization is only sufficient when it emerges from indigenous production. However, this is not clear-cut, as differences emerge between the creators and consumers of CWM.

Returning to her metaphor of fast food, Interviewee 1 added that “We are slowly becoming truly tired of repeating what feels like pre-chewed food.” A good example of this is Hillsong. Despite its early Australian identity, Hillsong has intentionally adopted an international outlook (Riches and Wagner 2012), which, as Porter (2018) notes, has nurtured a “transnational imaginary”, driving its cosmopolitanism. It facilitates the transnational circulation of a particular kind of “embedded and embodied Hillsong worship” possible, which avoids adopting any national identity or habitus, even though its songs are pre-tested by an Australian audience (Riches and Wagner 2012, p. 24). This is what Slovenian worshippers are struggling with. During my PhD study, a Slovenian Pentecostal, who often took part in international conferences, told me that in this regard

It was completely different, a bit more “franchise-like,” if you know Hillsong-style churches. I did not like it very much, because there was more emphasis on lights, on the show, on looking cool and being well-dressed. That bothers me. For example, this April I am going to Vienna for an Erasmus internship, and I am already looking for a church there, searching online. There is one very close to where I will be staying, but it also seems rather “franchise-like.” That does not attract me, because I am not looking for a place where I can appear as a “cool” believer. And then there is also the fact that everyone seems to share the same style—as if you are truly an outsider if you go to church but do not fit into that aesthetic. That really bothers me, this emphasis on a particular way of dressing. The same applies to worship music. That also frustrates me. This kind of worship music feels so monotonous—everything sounds similar, and I find it absolutely boring. I prefer diversity, both older and newer forms.

(Interviewee A)

As noted above, it is not only about language, but also about style and a dress code as well. Interviewee 3 similarly lamented the lack of Slovenian CWM:

Every nation must also be able to express itself in its own language. If you write a Slovenian song in Slovene, you will likely use a richer and more nuanced language than if you are simply translating. Slovenia has many capable people who can write, and we have a beautiful language. But we Slovenes tend to be drawn to foreign things. We admire the West, we like imported culture and products. For a Slovenian creator, it is difficult to break through in the domestic market. I personally find joy in writing CWM and want to worship God through it, which is why I do it. At the same time, it is not easy in Slovenia, because as a nation we are somehow inclined to believe that what comes from the West is better—that what is in English is better than what we have in Slovene. This is something we struggle with collectively.

Similarly, Interviewee 2 directed her frustration toward American missionaries, underscoring a sense of homogenization and what she perceived as a form of cultural colonization:

There is not enough local production, which makes it seem as though everything here comes from abroad, because we are constantly translating. Slovenian music, created through Slovenian production, is deeply needed and very welcome. For me personally, my heart cannot fully be in English, even though I translate. Even when we have a camp, everything is translated for every American, but for our own young people it is simply left in English, because “they will understand it.” And I say no. I argue with them about this—we are expected to immediately know English lyrics. And I respond, fine, then when will you learn Slovenian songs?

Thus, a central perceived drawback of adopting CWM is cultural homogenization (Plüss 2009), whereby musical convergence diminishes local diversity. For our interlocutors, however, homogenization is not merely a matter of aesthetics. Slovenian CWM is valued not only for its local character but also for its perceived efficacy in mediating the presence of God, as outlined in our theoretical framework. In other words, for worship to facilitate an encounter with the divine, it must be performed in a medium regarded by the participants as spiritually effective.

Furthermore, asymmetric religious globalization encompasses musical style as well. Drawing comparisons with her time as a missionary in Ethiopia, Interviewee 2 emphasized the distinctive character of indigenous forms of worship. She noticed how their worship was completely transformed by singing in their native language:

I told them, “You teach me your song.” Not in English, not in an American way, but in their own language. After about two years, there was a real breakthrough: they began to sing their own worship. Teenagers had been leading worship in English and singing American songs. But when they switched to their own songs, the Spirit rose, and the worship became completely different. The worship changed entirely—the language itself made such a difference. Of course, it did not resonate with us in the same way: the drums, the rhythms, the African melodic patterns, even the Muslim influence. But it was striking how simply changing the language and returning to their own musical idiom allowed the Spirit to move freely rather than being constrained, and the worship was lifted.

She added a comparison with Americans:

American missionaries often see only themselves and think, “Yes—the American way is the best.” But when we Slovenes came, we came as servants, as those who wanted to support them, and we offered them something spiritually far more valuable—something that matters most. That is why I find it so important that worship is expressed in one’s mother tongue: that you have words in your own language, that you understand what you are singing, and that you are able to express yourself fully. And only then comes the next step, which is the indigenous melodic style.

Beyond the impact of worshipping with foreign CWM, even when translated, its import has profound consequences for the local production of CMW (Evans 2015). On the one hand, translations serve as ready-made material to be recorded, distributed and sung during worship. On the other hand, despite occasional efforts, this has proven stifling for local production of CMW. According to our interlocutors, Slovenia only has a small number of worship bands and singers, most of whom are Catholic. Groups such as Abend, and especially Svetnik and, more recently, Rapha Worship, have been at the forefront of CCM and CWM in Slovenia, both through original productions and the adaptation of foreign CWM repertoires. Protestant Christians, by contrast, are largely confined to local church worship bands, which rarely collaborate across congregations. When asked whether there have been any attempts to establish a unified Protestant worship band, Interviewee 1 responded that

It has always been a desire, but it always gets stuck because we are spread out across different parts of the country. And again, there is simply no money in this. To start something serious, you also need serious commitment—meeting regularly for rehearsals—and it has simply not worked out. Our churches are not large enough to gather five people from one place and another two who would be willing to travel. It really is not feasible.

Nevertheless, there are visible attempts to promote CWM in Slovenia. For example, a group of enthusiastic Christians have established Heartbeat of the Kingdom, an unofficial association of individuals, who work together to promote worship music in Slovenia. They produce and write their own CWM, provide theological and musical education, and organize worship evenings. As Interviewee 1 explained,

These are individuals from both traditions—Catholic and Protestant churches—who recognize why it is so important to love God. Because we want this to be truly spiritual music, not something that anyone can simply copy. What pains me about much of today’s Christian music is that it often becomes only an external imitation of a certain musical style, without speaking about whether these are people who actually have a spiritual relationship with Jesus.

Similarly to SaSu, the project is run by only four people. In terms of recording and sharing songs, they manage a Spotify account and a YouTube channel where they upload their music. Of the 75 videos currently published, 70 are translated versions of foreign CWM songs. They travel from church to church to identify potential singers and invite them to record a song of their choosing with the group. Interviewee 1 explained that the project’s main goal is the revival of Slovenian CWM.

We are looking for worship leaders and worship musicians in church worship groups who meet these criteria and have gifts but often do not have the opportunity to serve or develop in Slovenia. For example, in their church they may have an excellent singer, but they don’t have a bassist or a drummer, so they cannot record anything. Somewhere they have a great bassist but everything else is missing. Elsewhere there is an electric guitarist, but again the full team is not there. For a long time, I believe Christian music here could not really develop because the constant attitude was: we don’t have, we don’t have, we don’t have. I became tired of this “we don’t have” syndrome. Okay, we don’t have everything. But then nothing gets done, instead of asking: what do we have, and what can we create with what we already have?

A similar initiative is evident amongst Catholics, who have organized a CCM festival since 2002 called Rhythm of the Heart (Ritem Srca 2026). The festival’s explicit aim is to promote original Slovenian CCM, Catholic or Protestant, by Slovenian singers and bands. The main part of the event is dedicated to the presentation of novel Slovenian CCM, while the finale turns into a concert-like gathering of Christians, singing popular Slovenian and foreign CCM,. As Protestant Interviewee 2 explained, the festival is recognized as a means of countering both foreign domination and the standardization of CCM and CWM:

I love the festival because it is the only festival that truly supports this. Even if it is not always a “hit,” it counters the biggest CWM in the world. They have carefully studied what works: which chords fit together, which words belong together—everything is thought through. It is almost like mathematics: how a person responds, which chords move them and inspire them. That is why I support this fesitval, because it is the only one that says: hey, what comes from the Slovenian heart must be loved and respected.

In sum, our study shows that the gradual shift from traditional hymn singing toward CWM has been both welcomed and lamented. This ambivalence stems from two fundamental drawbacks: the increasing standardization and cultural colonization of worship styles, and the simultaneous marginalization of local CWM production. Before concluding, we discuss the implications of this particular configuration of CWM in the Slovenian context.

5. Discussion

We suggest that these findings are best interpreted through a combination of the mediational approach to religion and the musicking paradigm. The broader material turn, within which this approach is situated, has challenged longstanding scholarly emphases on religion as primarily a matter of abstract belief or doctrine. Instead, it foregrounds religious materiality and practice as central to understanding how religious commitments are generated, sustained, and reproduced over time. As Birgit Meyer argues, “religion becomes concrete and palpable through people, their practices and use of things, and is part and parcel of power structures” (Meyer 2012, p. 7). In this vein, contemporary material approaches to religion shift analytical attention from asking how religion is merely expressed in material form to examining how religion is constituted through material practices (Meyer et al. 2010, p. 209). Working within the field of material religion, historian Robert Orsi similarly conceptualizes religion as “the practice of making the invisible visible,” emphasizing that once rendered material, the invisible becomes something that can be “negotiated and bargained with, touched and kissed,” and made to carry human affect, including anger and disappointment (Orsi 2012, p. 73). From this perspective, religion cannot be reduced to assent to supernatural propositions or to discursive accounts of experience. Rather, it encompasses practices and forms that enable the transcendent to be apprehended as immanent within the social and sensory world. Such attention to the material conditions through which persuasive religious experience is generated in embodied communal contexts has informed scholarly interest in mediation—that is, the concrete means by which the supernatural is made present and accessible (Meyer 2012; Morgan 2010). Within this framework, the assemblages of beliefs, practices, and material forms conventionally designated as “religions” function as mediating structures that organize and sustain encounters between individuals and the transcendent.

A comparable orientation is evident across much of contemporary scholarship on religion (Luhrmann 2020). Yet Birgit Meyer’s work is particularly influential in conceptualizing religion as a fundamentally mediational practice. Meyer advances an analytical framework that understands religions as assemblages of techniques, practices, and material forms through which the presence of supernatural agents is mediated and rendered experientially accessible (Meyer 2012, p. 27). Central to her contribution is the concept of sensational forms, which she defines as “relatively fixed, authorized modes of invoking, and organizing access to the transcendental,” thereby creating and sustaining connections among practitioners and the supernatural (Meyer 2006, p. 9). Worship music provides a salient example of such a sensational form. As noted above, Charismatic Christians often orient communal worship toward the anticipated encounter with God, with music functioning as a key medium through which this experience is cultivated and shared (Albrecht 1999; Warrington 2008).

Music, however, is not a given object but is more productively understood as a social practice, continuously constituted through networks of performers, ensembles, audiences, and producers (Small 1998). In this sense, music exists only insofar as it is actively made and sustained. The absence of musical production can therefore pose significant challenges for forms of Christianity—such as Charismatic Christianity—that rely heavily on music to achieve their core religious aims. This emerged as a recurring issue in our study. First, traditional hymnody often operated through forms of musical gatekeeping that restricted participation and limited the expressive life of congregations, thereby encouraging a shift toward the more accessible idiom of CWM. Yet while CWM is generally easier to perform and congregationally adaptable, the creation of locally authored worship repertoires has remained a persistent obstacle. As our interlocutors repeatedly emphasized, musicking requires substantial effort and infrastructure. It involves not only singers and instrumentalists, but also drummers, producers, videographers, and access to platforms for dissemination. Given their position as religious minorities, and their dependence on already overstretched church personnel to organize and lead worship, Slovenian Evangelical and Charismatic communities often face significant practical constraints in sustaining such musical production. These limitations have contributed to a growing reliance on imported CWM repertoires, which are dominated by Evangelical worship industries within the Anglophone world. This has led to a feeling of forced standardization and a need for local CWM production, giving rise to diverse initiatives for the promotion of Slovenian CCM and CWM. It is also important to note Ingalls’ warning regarding musical styles. Their meaning and role are not only to be found in their aesthetics, but also as a communication medium of “cultural values”, which can form the basis of “social inclusion and exclusion” (Ingalls 2017, p. 13). In our study, this exclusion can be found especially in excluding local songwriters and performers from the national market of CWM.

This is consistent with broader historical patterns. As Evans notes, Christian music has long been “a migrational and often colonizing force” (Evans 2015, p. 179). Referring to the missional hymns, which flowed from the UK to Europe, Africa and the Pacific, he reminds us that the indigenous adoption of foreign music has often resulted in homogenization. Our study suggests that similar processes are unfolding in Slovenia. Adoption of foreign CWM and the stifling of local production signals the unprecedented degree to which Contemporary Christian Music, with its global music industry and the proliferation of mass media, has proven to be a double-edged sword. While the wholesale transformation of local churches into Hillsong-style congregations cannot be found in Slovenia, the pervasiveness of popular English CWM signals a form of cultural dominance. The ease with which CWM has come to dominate Slovenian worship music illustrates the international portability of contemporary Charismatic Christianity. In his discussion of the transmissibility of religion, Csordas (2007b) distinguishes between transposable messages and transposable practices. In the present case, the latter is of relevance. Csordas defines transposable practices as “rites that can be easily learned, require relatively little esoteric knowledge or paraphernalia, are not held as proprietary or necessarily linked to a specific cultural context, and can be performed without commitment to an elaborate ideological or institutional apparatus” (Csordas 2007b, p. 261). This characterization applies closely to contemporary worship music. Worship songs and lyrics are readily accessible online, can be translated rapidly using digital tools such as DeepL or Google Translate, and may be projected and performed in congregational settings within a matter of hours. Moreover, the pop-rock idiom of CWM is so pervasive within contemporary global culture that congregations can incorporate it into worship with minimal musical or cultural adjustment.

Beyond international homogenization, however, lies another form, perhaps even more intriguing: interdenominational. A combination of factors has forced interdenominational collaboration and, at least on the level of consumed CWM, a gradual homogenization of CWM used among Catholics and Evangelicals alike. This is not necessarily a novel development. In her introduction to the study of CWM, Ingalls notes that “there is not a clear line of demarcation” between Charismatic Christianity and other Christian traditions as “many signature emphases” of Charismatics have been “woven into other noncharismatic denominations” (Ingalls 2015, pp. 3–4). She further observes that worship music and practices overlap substantially across Evangelical, Lutheran, and Charismatic Catholic contexts. Comparable developments have been documented in other regions as well. Gladwin (2015), for instance, describes the Pentecostalization of Latin American Evangelicalism and the emergence of a broader “pan-pentaevangelical” culture (p. 203). Marked by the pervasive presence of worship music in congregational singing and large-scale events, this culture reflects a creative incorporation of diverse musical styles and genres alongside Neocharismatic worship techniques; an intensified theology of worship; and, finally, a metaphysics of spiritual warfare, which stresses the intertwined nature of the physical and the spiritual world, leading to pronounced struggles between good and evil forces in the everyday lives of believers.

Such developments have recently given rise to questions regarding a fundamental reshaping of Western Christianity. While the 20th century Pentecostalization affected minor renewal movements within mainline churches, the Charismatization of Christianity could reshape whole churches. In his assessment of Hillsong, Martí (2018) remarked on how the contemporary immersive worship style has signalled the Charismatization of worship across the world. While the Charismatic impact on worship has become self-evident (Ingalls and Yong 2015; Christerson and Flory 2017), it remains to be seen whether this will impact other parts of congregational life. This is not to say that the Charismatization of Catholic worship, for example, is universally welcomed by other Charismatic Christians. Interviewee 2, a member of a Neocharismatic community, acknowledged that nowadays, they use the same CWM and attend the same worship gatherings, but stressed that “the Spirit is different”. Asked to elaborate, she provided a distinction between having fun and worshipping, a matter of sincerity (Abraham 2018) and entertainment:

We come together, we worship together, but sometimes I ask myself: which God are they actually worshipping? Do they truly know Christ the way I know Him, or is it just a lifeless image? Then you see certain things, it can feel almost like being at a stadium concert by a major rock band. Even in church camps or youth events, you sometimes get these playful “conga-line” moments, and I find myself thinking: no, I don’t want that. I don’t want children to learn how to entertain themselves—I want them to learn how to worship. On the one hand, the songs bring people together. On the other hand, they do not—if people do not even know who my God is. If worship becomes only a form of entertainment, then there is no real difference: instead of listening to Coldplay, they listen to a Christian band, but the atmosphere is the same, and the purpose is the same—simply to entertain Christian youth. And that is no longer worship.

This remark underscores the delicate tension within contemporary worship between secularized performance, which may be perceived as lacking authenticity, and persuasive religious practice oriented toward facilitating an encounter with God (Thornton 2023). While a fuller exploration of these dynamics lies beyond the scope of the present study, this tension points to important limitations and avenues for future research discussed below.

6. Conclusions

Drawing on a framework integrating the concepts of musicking and material mediation, this study examines CWM as a means of facilitating ritualized encounters with God in communal worship. It demonstrates how, since the 1980s, many Slovenian Christian churches—particularly Charismatic ones—have adopted CWM in place of traditional hymnody. This transition has been shaped both by changing aesthetic preferences and by the relatively high level of musical expertise required for the performance of hymns in liturgical settings. The adoption of CWM, however, has been uneven and at times improvised, prompting the emergence of voluntary initiatives aimed at standardizing translations to facilitate musical localization. An analysis of their databases indicates that CWM in Slovenian churches is predominantly American in origin and closely associated with Charismatic and Evangelical traditions. The second part of our analysis shows that limited personnel resources have encouraged interdenominational cooperation, both in producing standardized translations and in developing local, indigenous CWM as a response to concerns about cultural homogenization. In this respect, the study contributes to the scholarship on religious migration by highlighting the disembodied migration of religious technologies and practices, which—as the case of CWM illustrates—can generate significant cultural transformations within religious communities.

To conclude, the study’s limitations and potential avenues for future research should be addressed. Given the small number of contributors involved in the communities examined here—particularly within the SaSu project—our analysis remains constrained in its ability to capture the broader denominational landscape. Most notably, the study lacks a sustained engagement with Catholic perspectives—both traditional and Charismatic—which would further clarify Catholic evaluations of CWM. More broadly, the principal limitation of this study lies in its largely descriptive character. While such an approach is warranted in an initial exploratory analysis aimed at mapping the field and identifying avenues for future research, it inevitably constrains the scope and generalizability of the findings.

Although beyond the scope of the present study, future research would benefit from a systematic examination of worship bands across Evangelical, Pentecostal, and Neocharismatic churches. Such a comparative approach could illuminate differences in repertoires as well as divergent assessments of the potential risks associated with adopting imported CWM. Further research on CWM in Slovenia—and in other Catholic-majority contexts—should also foreground Catholic perspectives to better assess the Charismatization of worship and its broader implications for contemporary Christian practice. In this regard, we believe worship music constitutes a particularly fruitful vantage point for analysing processes of liturgical homogenization across Christian denominations, while also providing an empirical basis for evaluating concerns, such as those expressed by Interviewee 2, regarding the authenticity and sincerity of worship among non-Charismatic Christians. Finally, considering the emerging resistance to perceived cultural colonization, future research should examine strategies for addressing concerns about global homogenization. How do churches and communities negotiate these tensions internally, and in what ways do they seek to counteract CWM-driven standardization? Is there evidence of a renewed turn toward traditional hymnody? These are just some of the questions that should be tackled in the future as the field of CCM promises to remain a productive area for scholarly engagement.