A couple of weeks ago I said I might write a post about how I got into and then back out of listening to Christian music, so here I go.
I grew up in a church that sang hymns. I knew of a few Christian songs in other genres, like the folk-ish kinds of things you’d hear someone strumming on a guitar in the ’60s or ’70s, and I was dimly aware of something called “gospel,” but most of what I knew was what you’d find in a standard white mainline Protestant hymnal. But then I started attending Bible studies and other events for a youth group at one of those suburban megachurches, where we sang what I can best describe as newer songs in the tradition of the ’60s and ’70s folk stuff. It was fun, but not particularly earth-shaking.
Until the night they showed us the music video for Michael W. Smith’s “Secret Ambition.” (Warning to sensitive viewers: The linked video includes brief scenes of flogging and crucifixion. Also, a mullet.) This was the first exposure I ever had to Christian rock. I’d never believed (or been taught) that you couldn’t combine Christian themes with rock music; it just hadn’t crossed my mind that you could.
Shortly after that I learned about Petra (Warning: More mullets. I’ll stop with the video links here, though.), then others. My high school days brought me Audio Adrenaline, the Newsboys, DC Talk (of course), Jars of Clay, the O.C. Supertones, and Caedmon’s Call. Then in college I joined one of those CD clubs they had in those days, where you get a dozen CDs for the price of one and then every month they send you another one in your genre of choice and you can either pay for it or send it back. That CD club was focused on Christian music, and through it I discovered the likes of Skillet, Bleach, Guardian, mxpx, Burlap to Cashmere, and Room Full of Walters. I even had a show on the campus radio station one semester, playing Christian rock for the, like, two people who were awake and listening to it at 6:00 on a Wednesday morning.
I should point out that I never adopted the mentality that a Christian should only listen to Christian music. But I was impressed with the variety and quality of some of the acts, and I liked the music and lyrics I was hearing.
But college was also a time to start thinking about life more deeply than I had done so far, and Christian music was part of my life so I started thinking more about it.
At first the question was merely one of taste. I’d heard enough Christian music I didn’t like that I came up with a rule of thumb: if I wouldn’t like the music of a given act without the Christian-themed lyrics, I wouldn’t bother with it as a Christian act either. That was simple enough.
But then the questions started getting more complicated. A woman I knew wouldn’t let her teenage son listen to the Christian heavy metal he liked because the lyrics weren’t clearly audible. Does music not count as Christian if the words aren’t distinct? Another friend pointed out that the applause at Christian artists’ concerts might not all be given to God. Is an artist’s message invalidated if some of the fans are applauding the band instead of God–or if the artist is accepting some of their applause for himself? I found myself less willing than some of my friends were to reject most music as Christian over issues like those, but the questions still troubled me.
The questioning continued after college. An article about author Reed Arvin’s struggles to find a Christian publisher for his novel got me thinking about Christian music in the context of the larger Christian publishing industry. A book about the spiritual journey of U2 and a couple of interviews with Bruce Cockburn (the sources for which I can no longer find), which included Cockburn’s and some of the U2 members’ thoughts about deciding whether to identify as Christian artists, pushed that issue further. I came to understand that, in their capacity as gatekeepers, publishers can legitimate or exclude certain voices and could restrict the kinds of decisions artists made about the lyrical content, the auditory balance between music and words, and so on. And marketers, culture-makers (like the reviewers who wrote for Christian magazines), and retailers shape both production and consumption along similar lines. It becomes easy for Christians to sequester themselves in a sort of pop-culture silo, hearing little from outside and being heard by few who aren’t their own.
On its own, those insights might have made me appreciate how the cultural gatekeepers can protect Christians from unwittingly hearing anything that might be a bad influence (although that kind of protection isn’t something I’m inclined to appreciate to begin with). But couple them with some theological points that I was beginning to understand–namely, that all truth is of God regardless of whose mouth speaks it and that creativity and excellence honor God simply by virtue of creatures made in his image using gifts he gave them to create and to create well–and I was bound to start seeing the Christian gatekeepers as restricting the artists, sanitizing the art, and inhibiting the integrity of their art and their messages. And I didn’t want to restrict my own art consumption that way, to implicitly validate the pop-culture silo’s restrictions, or to privilege Christian art over art that took other forms or spoke other messages.
So I backed off a bit. I didn’t stop listening to Christian music–and in fact I still listen to most of the CDs that meant something to me when I was in high school or college, and they still speak to me–but of the new music I’ve bought in the last twelve years, none has been Christian.
And it’s been interesting to notice the truth and beauty I’ve been finding in other places. Maybe eventually I’ll write a post about that, too. But no promises.