I have faith in those who have the faith to rock it. At the ripe old age of fifteen, by the grace of God and my mother, I spent the night after my birthday at a concert where the speakers were loud and the base was mean, but every note was sung to the glory of our Father. Every scream was a message to the lost and every solo a gift from above. There was no worship of rock Gods, but a God who rocks. Head-bangers like me were few and far between, but there was more than one prayer going up. Closing my eyes brings back memories of a vibrating base and hopes of redemption in songs with names like “Scars Remain” and “Living Lies.” There were hundreds of bodies, not all in motion, and at times the heat was intense. Shivers were in my spine, and glee had me giggling like I was high. I think I was.

It was my second concert like that. My first one had been a few months before, and in that one concert I was hooked on something new to me: Christian rock.
Any old time Bible thumper would thumb me upside the head with the good book for even thinking about putting the two words together, but to some people’s disbelief, there have been more than one brought down from their high horse by an electric guitar and a guy who they think needs a haircut. God’s love is a love for everyone and that to reach the ones in the dark, you have to actually try and reach out to them. Not everyone was made the same, and it’s easier to relate to someone who looks like you than someone who is your image from a parallel universe where everything is backwards. No one would think that my uncle, who’s tattooed all over with a tanned shaved head, pierced ears, and bright orange Harley, is an ordained man of God. He is, and he’s as much of a rocker as I am, if not a better one. No one ever said that a minister had to be uniformed in a three-piece suit and a tie.

Every time I can get near a WIFI signal, Pandora Radio becomes my best friend, and I listen to it as if it were oxygen to my brain. I have to smile when people ask me what I’m listening to. Sometimes the expressions on their faces are worth the shock value, but I’m serious when I say the simple phrase, “Christian Rock.” I know that if they really wanna know more, they’ll ask what the artist is. It’s no skin off my nose if they just say, “Oh ok,” and keep walking. The laughs and “Are you serious?” looks hurt a little, but as I said, it doesn’t hurt enough to bring me down. Each little encounter is a hope for a little ministry action.

When I was younger, all I’d ever heard was Country and Gospel. It was a little annoying hearing the same messages over and over again, and the irritation in my heart from hearing people talk down about the music I did listen to only fueled the fire behind a short fuse. I would have given anything for relies, for something I could really relate to. What pre-teen is really able to relate to getting too drunk and losing the love of their life? How often can someone really understand what they’ve never felt or experienced? By the time I’d reached seventh grade, it wasn’t hard to see by my dark clothes and the constant grimace on my face that I was a mass of dark energy ready to explode. By this time mom had found a radio station that played contemporary Christian music, and it helped, but there was still something missing. There was peace in the lyrics, and light and hope, but I questioned where exactly I could find myself in these new songs. Something was still missing, and I was trying to find it. I guess, in a weird way, I was looking for God in the wrong place for me. I was looking for the chill, the goose bumps I sometimes felt in church in a sound I could carry with me and listen to over and over again. I was looking for myself.

The discovery of Christian Rock music brought a whole new outlook to my life. My clothes didn’t change much (even though a few bright colors did creep in), and being a loner was a still as natural as my eye color, but there was definitely a change in me. I felt lighter, like I wasn’t trying to fit into a skin that wasn’t mine. I wasn’t looking for attention, or looking for anything at all. I just felt like…me. And I learned something really important: I wasn’t just one style of Christian music, but a mix. I was and I am Southern Gospel, Contemporary Christian, and Christian rock. I found the peace I was looking for, and not because it was what I wanted, but because I felt God where I was. Sometimes I feel bad and have bad days and still fight that short fuse like any human, and I need a little reminder of who I am and what it’s all for. A simple song can turn my day and my heart around. That’s why I have faith in those who have the faith to rock, because by that faith hundreds like me are given hope, and through hope there is redemption.