Paid In Full - Part II

By the mid '80s I had become quite the Van Halen fan, and, like any good Christian lad, I did whatever I could to try and make my parents as uncomfortable about it as possible. I justified their music and lyrics to the best of my ability, using their lighthearted spirit as a selling point. They made it even easier for me by throwing in a sweet clarinet solo by Jan Van Halen, Eddie and Alex' father. My dad had been playing clarinet since he was a youngster so I dare say he approved.

But tastes evolve.

Once I got a copy of Ride the Lightning by Metallica things changed a bit. It became nearly impossible to convince my parents that listening to that really fast and heavy music with an electric chair on the album cover was innocuous.

But the music was so amazing. It moved me. I would praise and thank God for it while I listened to it. I thanked Him for his great gift of music and creativity.

At a certain point however, I pretty much gave up trying to convince my parents that me and God were OK with the music I listened to. The music was that good, yes, but life at home had never been more uncomfortable.

At a church conference in Anaheim in 1985 some of the other missionary kids there told me about the new Christian bands that had started to make contemporary music with Christian lyrics. I was rather skeptical but the guys assured me that they were legitimate.

Once back in France I somewhat dismissed the whole concept, especially considering that it was rather doubtful that I'd see any of the Christian stuff in the mainstream stores there. I got into a lot of older stuff like Thin Lizzy, Deep Purple, and others, and then got on a Gary Moore kick - great guitar player!

I was out looking for his latest album one day and for some reason was drawn to the import selection. There it was. Stryper. Soldiers Under Command. I had to have it. Well, it and the latest Gary Moore. I didn't want to run the risk of being disappointed with the Christian stuff after all.

I was sold on the first note. Not only were they Christians, singing Christian lyrics, but they really knew how to rock! It was fast, energetic, and extremely well written music.

My mother came into the room while the second song was playing.

"Jesus, king, king of kings. Jesus, makes me want to sing."

With an incredulous expression on her face she remarked, "It's strange hearing those words with that music."

I no longer had to justify the music I listened to. It did it for me. I can't say for sure, but I think my parents might have even approved... to an extent. There wasn't really much I could ever do to make them proud of me and I sincerely doubt that listening almost exclusively to Christian music could have ever made up for my previous shortcomings. Forgiveness is not a very common trait among Christian families after all.

In retrospect it's rather hilarious that I remained the black sheep of the family even though I did whatever I could to uphold my Christian values, refraining from engaging in any of the unhealthy activities which my peers enjoyed, and witnessing to any of my friends who would listen.

There was nothing I could do to rid myself of that stigma.

My parents' perception of me was always most evident around their coworkers and friends. They didn't feel any qualms about sharing their disapproval of me with them, even when I was in the room. It goes without saying that they never stood up for me when any of their more vocal cohorts decided to ride that bandwagon.

One instance in particular we were staying with friends of theirs. I was listening to Stryper, as usual, and extolling their virtues. Their friend, the pastor of one of the denomination's churches in the Netherlands, looked at me and shook his head in utter disgust.

"That's not Christian music."

I hardly knew what to say.

"That's a love song. There's no mention of God or Jesus. It sounds like it was written for a girlfriend."

I tried my best to defend them by mentioning the songs that left nothing up for interpretation, but was flatly shot down.

"It doesn't matter what the words are. The beat is satanic."

He spent the rest of the weekend mocking me, poking fun at me for my apparently erroneous beliefs. My parents did not utter a single word in my defense and, as usual, chided me for my reaction rather than dealing with the events that triggered it.

I should have known then that there would never be anything that I could do to gain my parents' approval as a Christian, let alone as their son, but I guess I was too stupid and naive to realize it at the time.