I grew up during a bad time for Christian rock music. My first concert ever was in 1985 (7th grade) and our youth pastor took us to see Petra, who at the time was THE band in the contemporary Christian music scene. There was a serious movement then to make Christian rock legit, but the sad truth is that, looking back, most of it wasn’t that great. The 80’s were a bad time in the history of music to begin with, and much of Christian rock was just knocking off what was big in the “secular” music scene. The styles were un-original and the lyrics were pretty much like eating spiritual candy: tastes sweet, but too much of it doesn’t do you much good and can even make you feel a little ill.
The other movement at the time was a little more sinister. The big push in youth groups then could be summed up in the title of one song: “Why should the devil have all the good music.” It was pulpit-thumped into our skulls about the morally corrupt, soul destroying, and evilly satanic forces behind any rock music that was not openly signed to a Christian label. My buddies and I would gather together and break and burn all of our records and tapes that were not Christian, and we would look down on anyone who listened to secular radio.
It was pretty legalistic, and it was bad enough that I would feel guilty and have to confess to my friends if I caught myself listening to a Van Halen song on the radio because I liked the sound. What made it even worse was that much of the Christianity of my youth was basically a pep-rally for God. Every message, retreat, concert, and conference, bible-study all of it seemed to push one major theme: are you “on fire for God and ready to change the world?” So much of it was superficial. We were told to stand up for Jesus by wearing slogan-covered shirts, carrying our Bible to school, listening to Christian music, and staying pumped-up for God. That would show the world how different we were, and they would want join. Everything apart from that was evil and of the devil. Spiritual-highs were the drug of choice, and the withdrawals always happened when you couldn’t keep up your commitment to follow the 12 steps to praying an hour every morning before school, or when what you listened to in the music was a way of life you couldn’t really keep up with.
I finally overdosed by my senior year in high school and hit bottom. So many years of charismatic hype and no real tending to the soul caused me to slowly become disillusioned and angry. I truly believed in who Jesus was and what the Bible said, but in my own life I had felt cheated. I was in vertigo. I gave away all of my Christian books (I didn’t want to read anymore what God told so and so to tell me, I wanted to hear it for myself). And in the biggest act of renunciation, I threw out almost all of my Christian rock albums, and went right out and bought the new Pearl Jam.
It was liberating, but the dark ages of the soul carried on all through college. By Christmas of 1996 I all out hated God. I even wrote stuff in my journal like, “God, if this is as good as it gets, then just kill me now.” I had gone home for the break, and was driving down the suicide autobahn that is Dallas freeways, when I missed my exit. I lost it. My anger at first was over being born with such a poor sense of direction, but in reality it was much deeper, and it soon spilled over. I started pounding the steering wheel and screaming at the top of my lungs, “Why can’t I ever get anything right? Why am such a screw-up? Why did you create me like this?” And then it culminated in the big one: “F*** you God!”
I went on home to decompress, and searched my little brother’s room to look for one of his cds to listen to since I didn’t have any of my own with me. The only one that looked interesting was his copy of “Rattle and Hum” by U2.
Now U2 was one of those bands that were not allowed. The common sentiment in the church was, “They used to be Christians, but they lost it.” In fact, a few years back I had added one of their albums to my list of secular music to throw away for God.
I went into my room and laid on my bed while the album tracked through. After a bit the speakers called out a classic song: “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” Ironically, this was the song that the church told me proved U2 had lost it, saying stuff like, “See... why would they still be looking if they already had Jesus?”
I knew this song, and so I sang along. And then it came to the last verse:
I believe in your Kingdom come,
Then all the colors will bleed into one
But yes I’m still running.
You bore the thorns, you loosed the chains
You carried the cross of my shame
You know I believe it
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.
And that is when the connection happened. I sat up and replayed the song again. Then a third time. That last verse… that was me! I was the one who believed in God and what his Son did on the cross, but I was running and still looking for what it meant for me. This was a modern day psalm just like King David used to write: Lines and lines crying and complaining and afraid, but at the end saying “I know who you are, and I’m waiting for you to come through.” I suddenly found that it was okay to be in the place I was, and that I was not alone.
I went back into my little brother’s closet and pulled down every U2 album he owned. I spent the rest of my break pouring over lyrics, and as the spring semester moved on I bought all they had recorded. And what I found amazed me: Not only were their songs about love and pain, but songs that spoke of the wrestling match in our souls between God and the world. Songs of addiction, sex, marriage, betryal, terrorism, human rights, war and peace, the environment... the sadness and joy of it all, from the perspective of a prophet or psalmist struggling with the truth in any of it. Where was my Church in all of these things? And then there were even songs that spoke about the promises in Isaiah, Noah and the flood, the fall of the devil, the temptation in the desert, the Prodigal Son, the Last Supper, the betrayal in the Garden of Gethsemane, the crucifixion, martyrdom, the mystery of the Spirit, the evils of a fallen world, the glory of heaven and even what mercy and justice looks like. These were not just songs, they were parables. This was the stuff of the Kingdom.
If I had ended high school renouncing the faith of my youth, then this was the beginning of my second creation. But like all creation stories, there was a time of serious chaos and creativity. The next three years were the darkest, culminating with truly hitting bottom after a year in Costa Rica. And during that time the lyrics and music of U2 were pretty much my only scriptures, worship, liturgy and theology. Their concerts seemed to be the only time I could truly enter into praise and worship. Much of what I think of the world and the move of the Kingdom in it are still rooted there.
As I tracked through my life, the journey and albums of the band have seemed to track in the same place: When I was running, they were singing about “how far are you gonna go before you loose your way back home,” and “I feel numb.” When I began to be reconciled to the Father, they were declaring a “beautiful day” and “all that you can’t leave behind.” And now, as I am struggling with a world at war and coming into a relationship with my dad, they are touring with the same issues at the forefront: “love and peace or else” and “sometimes you can’t make it on your own.”
People have always made fun of me for how “into” U2 I am. But the reality is not that I am just some “biggest fan.” In truth, the poetry and music have been a means of grace in my life. I fully believe that the Lord used U2 to first keep me from totally walking away from my faith, and secondly to help give me a vocabulary and an example for what he has called me into.
If I was to assemble the soundtrack of my life, the opening song would be “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” and the last song would be “Grace:”
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things
That has been the story of my life so far… from running to grace.
One of the best descriptions of the U2 experience comes from a writer named Bill Flannigan. He once described how one listens to a U2 song and finds the voice and words that they could not find on their own, and that it seems like the son was written just for them. Then you go to a U2 concert and you meet with 30,000 others who have made the same connection. Then “a community is formed, and a celebration breaks out.” I have often thought that is a great analogy for what the Scriptures and the Church should be. And in a way, I think they are sometimes a better form of Church, because they have a congregation of people in all the nations, many poor in spirit, who would never be found in a denominational sanctuary... all the very people who we can not fiqure out how to get into church are there, singing and rehershing the Kingdom without even knowing it. In other words, what Jesus told us church could look like.
U2 is cool in churches now. Most contemporary worship bands play their songs, and pastors are starting to follow Bono’s example of mercy and justice for the poor and sick. A lot of folks have jumped on the bandwagon, so to speak, but I like to think I got there before it was the “in” thing to do.
Either way, I make no apologies for my deep involvement with the boys from Dublin. I am who I am because of the work of the Holy Spirit through them in my life. And so tonight my wife and I are headed to their concert for the Vertigo Tour in Atlanta. This will be her first time to see them live, and so I am extra excited. There is an anointing there, and these things truly are spiritual experiences. So tonight we are ready to join with the community and celebrate.
It’s a beautiful day...
