A shadow of doubt

Christian Century, April 24, 2002 by Melissa Jenks

WHEN JARS OF CLAY, a band of earnest 20-somethings, broke out in 1995, with the hit single "Flood," it was at the forefront of a wave of Christian alternative rock that reached secular audiences. Its first CD was widely acclaimed, and since then the band has established itself as the first name in Christian rock. Its second and third albums, Much Afraid and If I Left the Zoo, both won Grammy Awards for Best Pop/Contemporary Gospel album. Heavily influenced by early-'90s alternative rock, the band has recorded both contemplative pop and edgy, experimental hard rock.

With Eleventh Hour, released in March, the band has returned to its roots, singing soulful lyrics of faith and love supported by hard-driving guitars that occasionally lapse into acoustic melancholy. The album debuted at number 35 on Billboard's Top 200 Albums, and its first single, "Fly," appears poised to also make an appearance on mainstream charts. The song, written for the cancer-stricken wife of one of singer-songwriter Dan Haseltine's friends, steers clear of sentimentality while holding out the promise of an afterlife: "I saw the host of silent angels waiting on their own. / Knowing all the promises of life come alive when you see home." This promise, however, does not mitigate the genuine grief of the bereaved, and the singer ends by repeating, "I won't let you go, I'm not letting go ..."

Haseltine is at his best at moments like these: when wrenching doubt wars with his faith. "Silence," in keeping with the dark psalms of David, reaches out for a God who seems to be absent. "I thought you left me for the wreckage and the waste, / On an empty beach of faith ... I want to believe but all I pray is wrong and all I claim is gone." Unlike much contemporary Christian music, which tends to deny the presence of suffering or doubt in Christian life, Jars of Clay is on a quest for truth--a quest that can lead the band into challenging territory.

The richness of this quest may be the reason that so-called gospel music has become popular with mainstream listeners, especially given the barren world of popular music, which tends toward either empty bubblegum pop or songs of nihilistic hate. Though not pigeonholed as gospel, mainstream rock bands like Creed and U2 have successfully tapped into their Christian backgrounds. Creed's lead singer is a Pentecostal minister's son and sings openly about the crucifixion and salvation. U2, the hugely popular Irish band, has recorded psalms set to music. In his recent book Walk On: The Spiritual Journey of U2, Steve Stockman writes that the band has "not shown such a spiritual openness or intensity for many years."

Jars of Clay, however, is firmly rooted in the world of contemporary Christian music, recording with a division of Brentwood Records, which also publishes praise and worship songs. The Eleventh Hour CD has its weaknesses. Overtly influenced by the early Beatles, innocuous pop ballads like "I Need You" are catchy but forgettable. Uninspired lyrics such as "I need you, I need you, I need you" seem custom-made for teen-movie soundtracks. The band can also drift into melodramatic cliche. In "Revolution," the third and most ephemeral track of the disc, Haseltine sings, "The time is right to cross that line and let love find a way."

The band skirts mentioning God explicitly--an attempt to avoid alienating secular fans that can seem manipulative. But the ambiguity can also give the songs an added depth, especially when uncertainty exists about whether God or a human lover is being addressed. In some cases, the speaker may be God himself.

The strongest song on the album is the bluegrass-flavored "Edge of Water." Backed by a banjo and rock guitar, the singer pleads with his loved one to return: "Have you ever been haunted the way I've been by you?" In the tradition of the Song of Solomon, the singer's longing for his absent lover mirrors his longing for God. "Do we give up this search and turn out the light? Give up this holy ghost that rattles through the night? / I can't see the sun for the daylight. I can't feel your breath for the wind. / I get so used to these shadows. Will you chase away these shadows when you come back again?"

The band's glossy surface hides a spiritual complexity, and those who don't catch the biblical echoes will still find themselves enriched by the album's undercurrent of faith.

Melissa Jenks is a freelance writer in Oak Park, Illinois.