The current issue of the New Yorker has an interesting piece on the history of Christian rock. You can read it here.
Closer to home….
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Back in the summer before my senior year of high school, a bunch of us who called ourselves the Fellowship of Friends (FoF) set off for a music festival in the Allegheny Mountains, not far off the Pennsylvania Turnpike east of Pittsburgh. Dubbed “Jesus ’75,” it was an event for the Woodstock-wannabe Jesus Freak crowd. In short, it was perfect for FoF.
At the time American Evangelicalism as we know it today was still a work in progress. Jimmy Carter hadn’t yet been elected president – that came a year later. And the so-called Christian music industry was still in its infancy. Amy Grant and U2 and praise music on overhead projectors in mega-churches were all just getting off the ground.
At Jesus ’75 there was a pianist and singer named Keith Green who was a big draw for us in FoF. His style was mostly pop, with plenty of bouncy tunes and show-offy piano riffs. We all lapped it up like the sticky sweet mess of manna it was.
I’ll never forget the moment after he came on stage and played the first upbeat number – received with wild applause – and he just stood there, shaggy-haired, gazing down at us, pensive. And we all stood there looking back up at him, rapt. After what seemed like an eternity but probably in reality only lasted 5 seconds, he said in a small, tired voice, “You are all… just… so… SELFISH!”
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Stunned silence? That would be an understatement.
He went on to relate how several in our number from the crowd were currently in a nearby medical tent being treated for drug overdose. He invited us to pray for their recovery. I have no earthly idea whether what he said was true. Was this was some kind of Christian rock festival gimmick planted by our parents to keep us in line? But looking around at all those scruffy teen-aged faces framed with big 70’s hair and an utter lack of impulse control, I could pretty well imagine it went down exactly like he said.
In any case, the show went on. Rains came later that night and turned the fields where we camped into a quagmire. But our spirits remained buoyant, either with, or without, chemical assistance, I do not recall. And if asked to testify, I will not speak. In the end, FoF survived the weekend intact, and we all went home, muddy, exhausted, and exuberant.
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A few years later on a hot July day, a light plane went down shortly after take-off from a small airstrip in Texas. All 12 people aboard were killed – including Keith Green and 2 of his 4 young children. The NTSB said the plane was dangerously overloaded and blamed pilot error – along with an aviation condition known as “hot and high” – for the crash.
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Although only 28 when he died, Keith Green was possessed of a wisdom beyond his years when he wrote these lyrics:
My eyes are dry
My faith is old
My heart is hard
My prayers are cold
And I know how I ought to be
Alive to You and dead to me.But what can be done
For an old heart like mine
Soften it up
With oil and wine
The oil is You, Your Spirit of love
Please wash me anew
With the wine of Your Blood.
Album cover: “For Him Who Has Ears to Hear”