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beautiful place to have a beer and feel poetic. If I tell you that story and the only words you hear are “bar” and “beer,” then chances are we feel different about drinking. Tell a story about a place you’ve visited and see if the first reaction is, “A bar? You went to a bar? Do you think you’ll be in the hot part of hell or the wicked-hot part?”
    I guess at the end of the day you could just quit playing games with their heart and ask them directly: “Did you know Sam Adams Summer Ale has grains of paradise in it? It’s a spice that someone felt deserved the name ‘grains of paradise.’ That’s like building a car and naming it ‘super duper awesome bestest car in the world.’ Do you enjoy premium beer like I do?”
SECRET CHRISTIAN BANDS
    It must not be easy to be a Christian band these days. When you say, “We’re a Christian band,” people probably ask you things like, “Really? Which one of you is in charge of releasing the doves during your performance?” Or, “Do you take a love offering before you rock or after you rock?” Or, “How many of your songs discuss punching the devil directly in the face? Half…or all?”
    There’s gotta be some downside to being labeled a Christian band because an entire underground of secret Christian bands has developed over the last fifteen years. I don’t know where they came from, but occasionally while you’re listening to the radio or watching the television show So You Think You Can Dance , your friend will lean over and whisper quietly, “Those guys are Christian.” Or Rolling Stone will “out them” in a review of their record and ask nine God-flavored questions and one album question in an interview.
    We all know they’re out there, but what does it take to become one? What if you’re a budding musician with deep faith who wants to quietly join the underground Christian band movement? Here’s how you can secretly apply for membership:
Name yourself something that sounds “longing” but not “Lordly.”
    I love the band name “Demon Hunter,” but there’s no pretending they’re not a Christian band. It’s like naming your band, “satan Groin Kickers.” Way, way too obvious. Try to shoot for something middle of the road. “Staind” would be a great name if it weren’t already taken. Do they mean they’re “staind” as in damaged beyond repair? Or do they mean they’re “staind” as in covered by the blood of Jesus? Aim for something like that. It should be melancholy but also possibly uplifting if viewed through the filter of grace. And on a side note, I’m pretty sure bands like “Staind” are the reason extra “e’s” started showingup in all our church names, like Crosspointe, Lifepointe, Truth-pointe, etc. Maybe we traded them some amps for their e’s.
Learn how to answer the question, “Are you a Christian band?”
    At some point, this is going to come up, and you have to be ready. When anyone asks, answer, “No, we’re not a Christian band. We’re a band of Christians.” I love this one because it works on so many levels outside of music. “Are you a Christian ultimate Frisbee team? No, we’re an ultimate Frisbee team of Christians.” See? Isn’t that nice? The circular logic of this will usually baffle people enough that you can quietly slip out of the room. If it doesn’t, just tell them you’re a guild, not a band. They’ll assume you’re quoting Lord of the Rings , and then you can talk about New Zealand for the rest of the night. Which I hear is a lovely place.
Write songs about your girlfriend and God.
    All your lyrics should be interchangeable so that if people in the audience want to pretend you’re singing about God, they can. If they want to pretend you’re singing about your girlfriend, they can. For example: “Your love has opened up a part of me I didn’t know I had / Without you in my life, my days would be so sad.” That’s magical, right? Maybe a girlfriend changed that