The Glorious Rise Of Christian Pop

The music is blaring as church-group buses roll into the South Bend, Ind., stop of Festival Con Dios around 4 p.m. on a sweltering June day. (Sixty percent of the Con Dios crowd come with their church groups, most of the rest with parents.) It's an easy site to find; just down the road from the Dew Drop Lounge and the Chippewa Bowl. The yellow buses kick up clouds of dust as they pull across the lot of the 4-H Park grounds, emitting a final plume of smoke as they grind to a halt near the rabbit-and-poultry club shed. The kids disembark: a gangly pack of 10- to 17-year-olds that could pass for the fans at any of the summer's other traveling rock tours. Slouchy boys amble toward the entrance in baggy hip-hop wear while giddy girls in prefaded flares and chunky-soled sandals hang back in cliques. But on closer inspection, that boy's shirt actually reads KICKIN' IT 4 JESUS. And that cute baby T with the cartoon images of frogs? They're croaking REPENT. REPENT. REPENT.

"This is the coolest thing, in my opinion, that has ever happened to Christian music," says 15-year-old Brendan Brown, as he walks through the huge inflatable entrance to the Con Dios main stage; 180,000 more kids will have taken this walk by the close of the tour on Sept. 30. "It's not the biggest crowd, but in terms of cool, this is like the best combination of stuff ever put together."

Being a cool Christian rocker is no easy task. Remember the '80s Christian glam band Stryper? You can't look good in black and yellow unitards, even if you've got God on your side. Con Dios artists are far savvier and up to date, from their choice in hair gel to their hip-hop beats (God is in the details). The big question: is the music any good? The answer is mostly yes. More than half of the Con Dios bands are tight enough to compete with MTV's "TRL" crowd. Christian fans can now groove to music that's actually hip, yet still reflects their deep-seated faith. "I'd think about going to the Warped Tour," says Jessica, 14, complete with blue eye shadow and braces. "But not if there's a lot of cussing and stuff."

Parents couldn't be happier. "I used to have fun when I went to rock shows, but my parents had no idea what was happening in there," says Michele Shaw, watching as her 5- and 10-year-olds tackle one of the festival's interactive attractions, the rock-climbing wall. "That's why I like this. It's different enough from a church service, yet still has all the moral values we believe."

There are no drugs in sight at Festival Con Dios. No kids facedown in the dirt, no broken bottles, no smell of warm, cheap beer. Hell, no one here even smokes. And groupies? Out of the question. In fact, some band members even bring their wives. The closest thing to rock debauchery is girls gazing dreamily up at Newsboys' barefoot guitarist with his shoulder-length blond locks and flowing, gauzy garb. That's not to say there are never problems. With more than 20 major Christian-music festivals a year, some drawing up to 100,000 attendees, something's bound to happen. Just this week, Ja'Marc Antoine Davis of the Christian rap group Raze faces arraignment on rape and molestation charges by a former backup dancer whom he met through his church (he earlier waived his right to a preliminary hearing without a plea agreement). But compared with the violence and mayhem of Woodstock III, or any other given rock tour, Con Dios is a safe haven.

And clean living is surprisingly cheap. For $25 (and many kids get discounts because their churches buy tickets in blocks), fans can watch 10 bands play, hear an inspirational sermon by a youth pastor and watch motorcycle and bicycle stunts performed off to the side of the stage. There's also the "Village" area, which features booths full of CDs and T shirts (T-Bone's album "The Last Street Preacha," Pillar's stomp the devil sweatshirt, etc.). Then, of course, there's the bungee-jump attraction, where kids can fly in the air like a "Crouching Tiger" warrior until Mom tells them to get down and give someone else a chance. Youth leaders head for the "breakout" tent to explore innovative ways to minister to their groups. The kids have the option to visit the prayer area if they're not moshing to Skillet's acerbic din, or rocking to the Beastie Boyish raps of Earthsuit. Or they can all bow their heads together at the main stage, where bands and speakers break into prayer at any given hour.