Authenticity, Sincerity, and Jennifer Knapp

I just read this interview yesterday and have been mulling it over since.

Since we all come from similar church backgrounds, I suspect that we all would tend to react in similar ways to an artist coming out of the closet. So this isn't a post about homosexuality and the church as much as it's a post about Jennifer Knapp. Mostly.

Some of you who know me well know that most Christian music at best bores me, and at worst infuriates me. There are plenty of exceptions, of course--my music library is stuffed full of albums I've listened to so much that the original CDs are hardly playable anymore--but in general my attitude toward Christian music is one of frustration. Frustration, because of how predictable it is. Frustration, because of how uncreative most of it sounds. Frustration, because, for a genre that professes to claim truth as its core value, so much of it comes across as insincere (or, if sincere, then sincerely out of touch).

But I always liked Jennifer Knapp. She was one of the better songwriters out there trying to fill the void left by the passing of Rich Mullins--"Undo Me" is a classic--and as I've gotten older, and come to appreciate folk and alt-folk music in a deeper way, my appreciation for her music has only grown.

So I count it as very good news that she's making music again, even if I doubt any of it will play in Christian music circles.

Which leads me to the discussion topic of the day. I know a lot of people who have been touched, encouraged, and convicted by her music (including me). I also know people who won't listen to her music again, because she's gay. I know that most of us value things like authenticity in our music, especially in Christian music, and Jennifer Knapp has long been one of those artists who has managed to write and play and perform with that sort of authenticity.

I can't imagine that any of the churches we've been to (or go to) would hold up Knapp, now, as a model of sincere faith and integrity... but there's a big part of me that finds that attitude to be problematic. Was it better when we didn't know she was gay? Was it more authentic and sincere then? What's the line we draw for our inspiration as followers of Jesus?

This is more of a discussion topic, like I said, than a question I want the answer to. I know, for me--and the extent to which this is true is an idiosyncrasy of mine--there is a broad array of things that have influenced my faith, and taught me about Jesus, and love, and grace, and compassion, and everything else. "Broad" meaning, truly, broad, coming from so many strange and unlikely sources, none of which I would throw out or wish to take back. I know, I'm a little (or more than a little) strange, but the arc of my life has always bent towards Jesus, and the things that have pointed me in that direction are sometimes spiritual, sometimes secular; sometimes beautiful, sometimes horrible; sometimes transcendent, sometimes simple; sometimes gentle, sometimes violent. I've been shaped by Henri Nouwen and C.S. Lewis and Rich Mullins, yes, but also by Nabokov and Dostoevsky and Dali and Picasso and T.S. Eliot and The Smashing Pumpkins and Nas. I've learned about freedom and lightness from Italo Calvino and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, about beauty and creativity from Christian Bok and Kim Hyesoon, about mercy from Paul Farmer, about integrity from bell hooks.

And, ultimately, this is how I interact with God: seeing him defined in (or in contrast to) the world around me, and coming to grips with both my own understanding and my own lack of understanding; seeing both his clarity and his mystery in those same things.

I'm just curious as to how the rest of you navigate the issue of inspiration, and all of those things, as it intersects with people and things that would be condemned by the church.