The Glorious Rise Of Christian Pop

Fun and prayer aside, there's no getting around the metaphoric elephant in the middle of this alt-rock fair: the values of Christianity and anti-values of rock seem morally incompatible. Yet there's something about the ethos of alternative rock--staying true to your beliefs, never bowing to mainstream pressure--that is oddly simpatico with conservative Christian culture. "I think rebellion and Christianity go together," says Mark Stuart, 33, lead singer of Audio Adrenaline, a veteran CCM group that recently started their own label, Flicker (one of many new indie Christian labels). They are the second highest-grossing band on this tour, selling more than 2 million albums since 1992. "Singing about sex and drugs is the easiest thing to do. It's old by now. So pretty much the most rebellious rock-and-roll person you can be is a Christian-rock frontman because you get people from every side trying to shut you down." In another twist, much of the consternation over Christian rock comes from evangelical circles. "The Christian people protesting our shows call it high-decibel Devil worship," says Stuart. "They don't even know what we're doing. They're just afraid. They probably saw Jerry Lee Lewis shaking his hips 50 years ago and are still like 'Rock and roll, it's Devil's music'."

It's 6 p.m., and there's no sign of evil yet. In fact, the most serious security concern of the day is moms complaining that they can't leave the grounds to get things from their car-bound coolers. "How can we fix that?" asks an organizer sternly. The security guy says, shrugging, "I guess we'll just let 'em out there." Moms are to Con Dios what strippers are to a Kid Rock show. While secular-minded teens would rather sit at home and do their math homework than attend a show with Mom and Dad, here whole families sit on blankets in the main-stage area under a local sponsor's banner, wfrn radio: a friend of the family.

For better or worse--OK, worse--kids with solid family values have become an oddball minority, living outside the mainstream. "Everyone out there is a freak, and I support them all," says Newsboys' Peter Furler, pointing out the window of his tidy tour bus. The 34-year-old singer and his band are the most successful of acts in Con Dios, selling more than 3.25 million albums in their 15-year career thanks to touring, word of mouth and grass-roots promotion. "I look at us as a tool to not only entertain Christian kids, but encourage them to pull through hard times. What they're struggling with as young Christians, we went through, too. It's just learning how to deal with your faith."

And how to deal with a faithless world. As the sun goes down, special guest Pastor Anthony Walton hits the stage and preaches to the fresh-faced crowd about the inevitability of death, telling about a boy whose sister contracted a deadly blood disease and children who eat their own feces for protein. The kids listen, but it's hard to concentrate on pain and suffering when a motorcycle daredevil is getting ready to jump over a school bus right in front of you. Still, the young crowd is polite. There are no boos, no plastic cups hurled at the stage. This is clearly not an Ozzfest, where a mere bum note can incite a barrage of flying trash.

These well-behaved kids didn't just wander in here. They were targeted by Christian promoters such as Interlink, an organization that sends Gospel-oriented music and news to youth-group leaders in hopes that they'll pass it on to their flocks. The church youth group is the core of social life for conservative Christian kids, and where bands like Newsboys, Cadet and Superchick got their first taste of playing for an audience.

But for musicians from a more mainstream background, Christian rock seemed about as cool as learning polkas on a wheezing accordion. "The only thing I knew about it is what was on TBN, you know, that crying channel," says Ben Cissell, Audio's 25-year-old guitarist. In high school, he listened to Bad Religion. "A guy on my soccer team used to wear an Audio Adrenaline T shirt and tried to get me to go to a concert. And I was like, 'No way, I'm not going.' I was a normal kid in a public school. I wasn't gonna be caught dead at a Christian-rock concert." By his sophomore year, Cissell converted to Christianity and began playing with the very band he'd refused to go see.