Every Saint Has a Past and Every Sinner Has a Future
Nice Guys Finish Last at The First Heavy Metal Church of Christ in Dayton, Ohio
If the Devil had tempted Jesus into setting up a Match.com profile, His dates would have made an episode of The Bachelor look like a 5-year-old Chuck E. Cheese birthday party.
On paper, Jesus should have been a Holy Don Juan. He had the power to be a walking One Man Winery who could turn tap water into Romanee-Conti, wow a picnic party of 5,000 by taking advantage of Olive Garden’s unlimited breadsticks, and then Clap-On a chorus of angels to set the mood over a romantic candlelight dinner, having intelligent conversation about every prophet from Aaron to Zephaniah.
A bevy of Bethlehem beauties could have been lining up at His sandy feet, mesmerized by His brown flowing hair, a sporty sash hung casually around His chest, and a God-given sheen of golden Coppertone skin. Long walks on the beach? Please… That was soooooo B.C. ago. He could have held hands while walking atop the Sea of Galilee. Off in the horizon, a Simpsons blue sky would dim into a picturesque sunset. He’d turn to His lady with a heavenly glimmer in His eye, and be all nonchalant-like to say, “You see that sun? My Dad made that on the first day. It was good.”
And He would have been good. If only He had been bad.
Looking at the miracles Jesus was performing, you would think that fathers would have been launching their daughters at Him. Women should have howled for His love. He could have ignored a girl and not texted her back, giving the age-old sorry excuse that He died, but rose again just to see her pearly white smile again. But you know what? He never did that.
Instead, Jesus was rich on meekness, deposited lowliness, and limousined into Jerusalem on a donkey. If someone would smite Him, He preached to turn the other cheek. He even took time away from His hectic travel schedule to give His full attention to Mary Magdalene tell-all about the losers in her life, perfectly content being in friend-zone.
At the end of the day, Jesus was and will always be, a “nice guy”.
When I was dating in my 20’s, I scratched my head every time I heard women say they want a “nice guy”, only to turn salty and cast a “nice guy” into the Mediterranean and then cannonball into the lap of a bad boy. Logically-thinking, nice guys believe that women want to be showered with gifts, glorified with attention, and will beckon at every call or text message. Bad boys on the other hand will create mystery, riot the heart with unshakable confidence, and give women so much space, they could Netflix binge all the alien documentaries they want. Women hate it, but have no problem re-entering a bad boy’s orbit.
While the Bible doesn’t say much about dating, it does talk about “nice guys” and “bad boys”.
Pontius Pilate knows what I’m talking about. After all, he was the short stick that had to free Barabbas, the biggest baddest mamma jamma that your momma warned you about. Hide the women and children. He was a rebel, renegade leader of an insurrection, the type of guy that Taylor Swift writes break-up songs about that eventually win Grammy Awards.
Back in those days, it was Passover tradition to release one prisoner from death’s row. To cater his wife’s concerns over Jesus’ peril, Pilate served up the nicest guy on the planet against the Bible’s Big Bad. The Roman guards paraded Barabbas out, going so far to play the “Bad Boys, Bad Boys, Whatcha Gonna Do” song just to drive home the point. Obviously the crowd would do the logical thing and choose Jesus. Right? Right?!?
Pilate appeared before the crowd and said something like:
“Which one do you want me to release to you? Barabbas the jerk? Or Jesus Christ, who’s very polite in small-to-medium groups and an all-around swell guy?”
“Give us Barabbas!” they answered.
Pilate was befuddled. He replied:
“Seriously?!? But Jesus hasn’t done anything wrong. What do you want me to do with this “nice guy”?”
The crowd shouted:
“Crucify him!”
August 16, 2015 12:00pm Worship Service: The First Heavy Metal Church of Christ in Dayton, Ohio
I was pushing pedal to the metal on I-74. My personal Highway to Hell had hit a detour, as I burned rubber on my way to an outlaw biker church. I was Bad to the Bone with music blaring, sunroof open, and a fresh pack of allergy pills in the glove compartment. I was listening to Shinedown’s newest single on my Spotify playlist when it hit me like a five finger death punch:
“So feast your eyes
On the big, blue sky
And wave bye bye
From a long, Black Cadillac
Pay the price
Gotta roll those dice
And wave bye bye
From a long, Black Cadillac”
My future was indeed looking like a big, blue sky. Rachel was going Goo Goo Dolls over me, our connection was quickly revving up after a couple church dates. She was barraging me with text messages as she was becoming my spiritual groupie, begging to know the latest about my church tours. She didn’t see me as a “nice guy”, but instead a Christian road warrior with a bit of an edge. I was waving bye bye from my past, firmly in the rear view mirror. For Church #42, I was ready to embrace my inner-Christian bad boy, roll the dice to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my wayward brothers-in-faith at The First Heavy Metal Church of Christ (FHMCC).
I was hopeful no one would notice my lack of a neck tattoo.
When I pulled in next to a line of Harleys, off in the distance was a long black Cadillac parked in front of a graveyard. The hearse was outfitted in a Paint It Black exterior, an all-engulfing flame job, and mirror-tinted windows that were pictured with Skull Dollz. The cherry on top was the front seat, which was even customized with a black spray-painted wooden pew, complete with a casket in the back of course. With a custom hearse that was plucked out of Mad Max: Fury Road adjacent to a church sign that read, “Loving the Hell Out of You Every Sunday at Noon”, I could tell this was going to be epic.
FHMCC gathers every Sunday at noon inside a former elementary school. Inside the auditorium, the stage was flanked by a medieval body of armor on the left and a six foot tall heavy metal cross on the right. Hoping to avoid sticking out like Alice Cooper in a L’Oréal commercial, I had traded in my Sunday’s best for a faded black shirt, black cap hat, and ripped jeans. I fit right in, but it was hotter than a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert in the Sahara during the Summer Solstice. It had to be upwards of 85 degrees. I was not going to go through an hour and half-long service in the heat without hydration. When I hit the concessions to get some bottled water, there was no Whiskey In a Jar, but loads of Monster energy drink. Forget coffee to get your adrenaline rollin’.
“Come on, someone bring the Holy Spirit in here. Come on, I wanna hear you Shout! Come on, Shout! Shout the name of Jesus! Shout His name!”
Rooster, the harmonica-wielding lead singer for God’s Dirt, jump-started service by really wanting someone to shout for Jesus. Mixing bluegrass and rock ‘n roll, the congregation raised their hands with the sign of the horns for some good ‘ole southern gospel headbangin’ and foot-stompin’. Throughout the service, FHMCC had alternative ways to connect with the congregation. From leading off announcements with everyone shouting “Unleash the Kraken” to the pastor firing off Super Soaker shots to cool down people sitting near the front, this service wasn’t afraid to pave a new road in its message.
FHMCC was the brainchild of Pastor Brian Smith, a heavy metal musician who became disillusioned with Country Club Christianity. He had a burning bush moment and rebelled against the religious establishment by forming his own church. It didn’t matter what you did, or who you are. FMHCC reaches out to Ohio’s strip clubs, bars, and biker clubs. They don’t go to spit fire and brimstone, but instead cast fishing nets using heavy metal music and customized vehicles as it’s lure, reaching out to the lost and damned who would feel uncomfortably numb in a traditional religious setting. Bikers, drug addicts, prostitutes, gang members, felons, convicts, and even writers needing all day allergy relief.
While many Christian critics look at Pastor Brian’s outreach as poison, the fact is he reaches out to the Barabbas inside all of us, preaching To Hell with the Devil to a forgotten target audience. On this Sunday, Pastor Brian manufactured a customized sermon, remixing rock ethos with Biblical canon. He referenced Hebrews 12:28–29 about God’s power as an all-consuming fire. If someone thinks he can contain God, to quote Judas Priest, “You Got Another Thing Coming”.
“We’re all gonna have to Ride the Lightning. Ooh, Metallica reference. We’re all gonna have to make that jump. Someday, you and me are gonna be layin’ on a hospital bed. When we’re layin’ there, as our life is getting to leave us and we’re about to take the Great Vacation, I don’t want my last thoughts to be coulda-shoulda-woulda… The time is now. We’re not gettin’ out of here alive. Livin’ your last moments in regret, Satan will have a field day with your mind.”
When the service was over, I couldn’t help but think we only have a little time left on this blue marble. Before leaving, I had to get another look at that hearse. Lyrics were stamped all over it, but the one that struck out was the Iron Maiden reference on the windshield. “Live After Death”.
When it’s time for us to be buried six feet deep, and we ride that long, Black Cadillac, we’ll either be hearing Hell’s Bells or Knock-Knock-Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. He punched a one way ticket to hell to sell-out that Big Concert Hall in the Sky. We can’t beat death, we can beat death in the life God has given us. Through Christ, we can live after death too.
The narrative of the Bible points that God continually works with and gives grace to people who don’t deserve it, don’t even seek it, and don’t appreciate it once they get it. With Barabbas, he was the most undeserving and baddest sinner of them all. Yet, he was the one who was freed over a nice guy like Jesus. Why?
With sin, we’re all bad boys. We’re all the lost and condemned. We’re all Barabbas.
And yet, because of Christ taking our place on that tree, we have been freed.
So I guess it is true. Like the old saying goes, “nice guys finish last”.
With Christ, His example showed nice guys finish last so that He could put us first.
