High Fidelity faith

Sojourners, Jan/Feb 1999

Kayla Hammerud said that it was the biggest day of her life. All morning, the Osceola, Wisconsin fifth-grader tore through her closet fretting over what to wear. By noon, she'd settled on a flower-print jumpsuit and was headed out the door with her mother. Two hours later, on a mild summer's day, they walked into a Christian bookstore in suburban St. Paul, Minnesota, where hundreds of people were gathering.

Shortly before 9:30 p.m., after hours of waiting, the object of the hoopla-four conservatively clad women flashing lipstick smilesstepped onto a small stage in the store's coffee shop. That set off a chorus of cheers and flashing cameras. Tears streaked down Hammerud's cheeks as she came face to face with her idolsthe Christian pop quartet Point of Grace-who sang songs and signed autographs.

Scenes like this one used to be the domain of mainstream pop stars. But with Christian music now a growing force, religious rockers are behaving a lot like celebrities and their fans like starstruck groupies. This isn't sitting well with some Christians, who fear the evangelical music industry has created golden calves out of its artists. Christian rockers may sing about God, they say, but who are fans really worshiping?

Some of the harshest criticism comes from within the industry. "In these autograph lines, you're not going to see a lot of ministry," said Mark Stuart, lead singer of the Christian rock band Audio Adrenaline. "You're not going to see anyone getting saved. You might pray, but generally it's just kids caught up in this frenzy. It's like collecting Beanie Babies."

Contemporary Christian music (CCM) emerged in the late 1960s as a no-frills way to spread the gospel. At first, churches either scoffed or condemned the electric Jesus music. Today, it's the country's fastest-growing genre of music-a billion-dollar industry with its own record labels, fan clubs, awards shows, CD clubs, music videos, Internet chat rooms ("Amy Grant shops at Kroger!!!"), and Peoplelike magazines that showcase the comings and going of industry stars.

Many of those stars have become wealthy from their music; many more peddle trinkets and T-shirts at their concerts to stay afloat. Some lead lavish lives; others live well below their means and give thousands of dollars to help others. At the peak of his career, the late Rich Mullins left Nashville, the locus of the industry, and moved into a small trailer on a Navajo reservation to live in solidarity with the poor.

"You've got people like Rich Mullins, who was sworn to poverty," said Eddie DeGarmo, an executive with Forefront (Christian) Records in Nashville. "You've also got some people who wear so much gold on their hands that it's hard to believe that they can pick their knuckles off the floor."

FRANK BREEDEN, PRESIDENT of the Gospel Music Association in Nashville, is unapologetic about the industry's commercialism. Christians are engaged in a culture war, he said, and to save America's youths from the "negative influence" of mainstream rock, they must battle back using the media that appeal to teens. Rather than selling out to culture, Breeden insists Christian music is refusing to surrender to secularism.

Indeed, Christian concerts often seem like wholesome versions of their mainstream counterparts. Body surfing and mosh pits are in, alcohol and profanity are out. At a Christian music festival that drew 12,000 teens to Willmar, Minnesota, in July, dress ranged from grunge to punk, complete with tattoos and navel rings. Some teens had Christian symbols such as crosses and fishes cut out of their hair, or wore T-shirts with a Generation X spin on crucifixion: "Body piercing saved my life."

"It's hard-core music for hard-core Christians," said Jake Scheele, 15, of New Prague, Minnesota, whose hair was painted in the colors of the rainbow. "It makes it not so nerdy to be a Christian." At one point, festival security used supersized spray guns to keep fans from rushing a stage where the trio dc Talk was performing. Toby McKeehan, a singer in the group, said he worries about being put on a pedestal by fans. "We need to try to let them know that we're just ordinary men and women trying to make music that serves God," he said.

Rev. Scotty Smith, pastor of Christ Community Church near Nashville, which draws many industry artists and executives, doesn't believe Christian music has done a good job of reflecting on what the cult of celebrity means. Part of the problem, he said, is that the culture has replaced heroes with celebrities. In the past, heroes were usually people of great character, renowned thinkers, or, in the Christian tradition, martyrs.

"There's a lot of naivete about the Christian music industry being a devotional hothouse," Smith said. "Things are always complicated when money is involved. Here we are singing about God and all of a sudden you're seeing artists making six-figure salaries. If we are being faithful, we will ask the hard questions. The question is how do we maintain good heart and good art?"