When my friends were listening to Don McLean, Rod Stewart, The Who, Three Dog Night, and Jim Croce, I was listening to Beethoven, Bach and Ralph Carmichael. When I wasn’t listening to hymns or classical music, I loved Gospel Quartets like the Oak Ridge Boys and the Imperials, and singing groups like the Goodmans mostly because that is all I was allowed to listen to. Their concerts included rousing hand clapping and what could easily be called dancing. These groups did, after all, come from churches where they believed in dancing in the spirit. As rousing as Gospel Quartets could be, many struggled with incorporating drums into their bands since they believed the rock beat was secular and needed to be avoided. I decided to ask my new youth leader what he thought.
Bergie was a big man, at least big to a ninety-five pound weakling like me. Balding at a young age he let what little hair he had grow long. The one thing I remember most about Bergie was that he loved God and he loved kids. Not exactly fat but not muscle bound either, he was a one-time hockey player, a physical force to be reckoned with and he inspired all of us young men. Bergie was a stickler for fair play and included everyone, even this geeky kid. He would make me join in when we played street hockey in front of his house on Wednesday nights before youth group. He was constantly grabbing my hockey stick when I held it too high and shouting, “Hey, keep this thing under control before you hurt someone! High sticking is a foul.” He knew his way around the world and on the competitive field and I soon learned that he knew his way around the Bible too.
“Bergie,” I asked him after youth meeting one week, “is rock music bad?”
“Well, some people would consider it bad music based on the style of music they like,” he started. “Why do you ask?”
“Because at my Christian school I am told all music with a syncopated beat is the devil’s music. The beat drives people to dance and is probably full of demons.” At the word “demons” he raised an eyebrow so I continued quickly. “Or at least encourages demons to possess people.” I waited for the proof texts to come but they didn’t.
“Chris,” Bergie said, opening his Bible, “there are many things each of us have to decide for ourselves. They are not easily put into a category of good or bad or right or wrong.” He opened his Bible to Romans chapter 14 and began reading.
I know and am convinced in the Lord Jesus that nothing is unclean in itself; but to him who thinks anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean.[1]
“Music by itself is not good or evil, very few things are. That is what this verse is saying. I believe that God created music and after he created it I am sure he called it good,” he explained. “Lyrics and just poorly played music can be bad, but music in and of it self is not bad.” He continued reading.
Therefore do not let what is for you a good thing be spoken of as evil; for the kingdom of God
“Even though things we do or music we listen to might be good, sometimes they create problems and we don’t want that. Here the Bible is teaching that Christianity is not about what we eat or don’t eat, or what kind of music we listen to or don’t listen to, but it is all about righteousness, peace and joy.” I knotted my brow, never having studied the Bible like this before. He continued reading.
So then we pursue the things which make for peace and the building up of one another. Do not tear down the work of God for the sake of food[3].
“Chris, we need to work for peace and the encouragement of each other. We should never tear down the work of God because of our personal preferences or our religious rules.” He smiled. “The advice goes both ways.”
“What do you mean?” I asked not sure I was following his thought.
“If you don’t like rock music you should not tear down those who are using it to build the kingdom of God
The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves[4].
“The bottom line Chris is that your convictions should be between you and God and you should not be using your liberty in Christ to hurt anyone else.” I sighed. This was a lot to process.
“Besides,” Bergie said, his smile growing larger. “The Bible is full of wild descriptions of worship that includes all kinds of musical instruments, drums and dancing. David danced before the Lord and Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, is clearly commanded.” His smile finally broke into a laugh. “Sounds like a rock concert to me!”
The Bible verses Bergie showed me convinced me that rock music wasn’t evil; it was just not to some people’s liking. Music was created by God and was good. Sometimes it could be used for evil purposes, but then the devil wasn’t good at creating new things. He can only corrupt what God had made. C.S. Lewis, in his fanciful Screwtape Letters has a senior demon, Uncle Screwtape, mentoring his nephew on this very topic.
Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy's ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made all the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is to encourage the humans to take pleasures which our Enemy has produced, at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He has forbidden.[5]
My struggle to find a place for rock music met its first challenge at my Christian school. In the late spring of 1974 our church decided to help with the local Billy Graham crusade; something my school avoided, joining other fundamentalists in accusing Billy Graham of being liberal and neo-evangelical. You have to remember that back in the early seventies there were really only three clear options in Christianity – liberalism, orthodoxy (read “fundamentalism”), and the Charismatic movement. There were no seeker churches, no churches with contemporary singing. Today it is different; back then your options were limited. Billy Graham was creating what we now enjoy as sane, conservative Christianity. Back then it was just called liberal.
Singing in the Crusade choir was my way to be involved and I liked one of the songs so much I brought it to school to sing in our school chorus. Our music teacher took one look at the song and pronounced it “rock music” because it had a syncopated beat. No drums, no long haired hippie weirdo freaks singing, only a little syncopated beat. When asked where I had gotten the music I naively explained that it came from the Billy Graham Crusade. With one eye brow turned up in silent reprimand, I was sent to the principal’s office.
Trudging past the younger kids playing in the parking lot turned playground, I made my way to the office. Mrs. Perry, the school and church secretary, greeted me. At this time the pastor of the Church where the school met was also the Principal. Pastor Hickok knew me by name; in a small school the principal knows all the students by name.
Pastor Hickok was a short man with dark hair, thick glasses and a booming voice. He was dynamic as a preacher and had a strong radio listening audience. He terrified most of the students, including me. After waiting a few minutes in the church lobby I was ushered into the paneled Church study lined with books. I sat down and patiently waited for Pastor Hickok to explain my transgression. The sunlight streaming in the windows highlighted his jet black hair. We talked, meaning he did all the talking and I did all the listening.
He wasted no time getting right to the point.
“Chris, Billy Graham is a liberal and liberals deny the basics of our faith,” he began. “I remember when Dr. Graham was a faithful fundamentalist Baptist but now he chooses to be unequally yoked with liberals in direct violation of the Scriptures.” He frowned. “Dr. Graham and his ecumenical crusades need to be avoided. Such actions are helping to usher in the antichrist and the One World Church
Then he started in on rock music.
“Rock music’s syncopated beat appeals to the flesh making people want to dance, and dancing is bad,” he explained. “Wild worship led David to dance so hard he exposed himself shamefully and rock music and dancing is just simply sex while standing up.” He paused to take a breath. “Dance halls are full of cursers, adulterers, smokers, drinkers and all sorts of people in rebellion against God and his ways. They all go hand in hand. It is entirely of the devil and partaking in any of it will endanger your eternal soul.” Pausing for effect, he straightened his glasses. “You can’t lose your salvation Chris, but if you persist in listening to rock music, one can logically assume that since it is the music of the devil, and you like his music, then you are not a true child of God. What fellowship hath light with darkness?” he quoted.
Bergie’s talk came to my mind as I listened to Pastor Hickok. Their approaches to this subject were very different. Music was created by God as good, and even though it could be corrupted, I was sure rock music wasn’t a sin. It was a preference. As these thoughts swirled around in my head I suddenly heard myself interrupting.
“I disagree.”
Stopping mid sentence, Pastor Hickok leaned back in his chair, his thick black rimmed glasses turned toward me, reflecting the sunlight from the windows just enough so I could not see his eyes in that position. I was just as shocked as he looked. As I sat there in the awkward silence it slowly dawned on me I had challenged his authority, something that good fundamentalists were not supposed to do. Those God had placed over us were not to be questioned, but obeyed. To obey them was to obey God. Panic rose in my throat. Unable to look Pastor Hickok in the face I stared at the floor suppressing an overwhelming desire to run. I had committed the unpardonable sin.
It was several minutes before he spoke. Somewhere in the room I could hear a clock ticking and birds singing outside. Children were on the playground for recess, their sounds of play coming muffled through the windows. The beat of my heart pounded in my head. Eventually he broke the awkward silence.
“Your music teacher was trained at Bob Jones University
That was that. There was no room for disagreement.
Finding a slip of paper on his desk he began writing. “As a result of your obvious love of the Devil’s music and your willingness to be associated with liberals, you are suspended from school tomorrow.” Without looking up from the note he was obviously making for Mrs. Perry, he ended our conversation. Taking another piece of paper he began writing down Bible passages. I waited patiently. “Take this time to think about being unequally yoked with unbelievers and the evils of rock music.” Handing the list to me he added to my sentence. “Read these verses before you return to school.”
He ushered me out of his office with a wave of his hand. I bolted from the office, happy to be free. Part of me was horrified that I had defied authority, and part of me was happy for the day off. Hadn’t I been taught that if you were doing the right thing you would be persecuted? Obviously I was on the right track.
Dutifully I looked up the verses Pastor Hickok had given me, but they were not convincing. Staring down at the list I had grown weary of proof texts. Rarely did they prove anything, and I suspected they were simply listed to make it look like there were Bible verses to support the doctrine being argued. I doubted that anyone ever read the proof texts anyway. A careful student of the Bible could come up with proof texts for practically anything. Truth, a most precious commodity, must be mined from the Bible even as gold is mined from the earth. It takes time, dedication, and a lot of work. Sure, there might be a proof text lying around somewhere just like there might be a gold nugget lying on the beach. But is it not the norm, rather the exception. If you want to know what the Bible teaches you have to study it for real.
My suspension made me somewhat notorious, a rebel to my class mates. Secretly I enjoyed the new distinction. This was decidedly strange since at my new church I was anything but a rebel. On the contrary, I was a religious nerd, a real Jesus geek living between two worlds. One world was fundamentalist where everything was neatly painted good or bad and protected by a strong wall of rules and regulations that protected from invasion by the evil secular world. In this world I was a rebel, bucking authority, swimming against the stream. On the other side was a world with many shades of grey and a blurring of the lines between secular and sacred. In that world I was a Jesus geek with short slicked back hair and a big King James Bible. I was finally learning to open that Bible and read it for myself.
