Part 3 of Gigging for God: One local musician’s personal story

by Andy Odom

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Yes, I still go to church. But no, I don’t play church music. Not anymore.

Church music is in my blood. My mother was the organist in the Southern Baptist church in Alvin, Texas, where I grew up, and routine practice and rehearsals became commonplace in our household. When my church’s youth group decided to have musicians lead the worship portion of the youth meetings, I took up the bass guitar so I could play with my friends. It also had a few other perks: Even at the age of 15, your cool level rises to obscene levels when you're standing on a stage performing in front of other people. My friends were the rock stars of my youth group, and I couldn’t stand not being a part of it. As is the case with almost any band, being in the youth band was cool.

I played church music from my mid-teens until my late 20s. Then I played throughout college and into my adult life, mostly for the same reasons I started: It was fun being creative with my friends, it felt great to be on stage, and I believed in what we were doing. With all the services, summer camps, and retreats, I estimate that I’ve played in front of more than 10,000 people in my church music career – not too shabby.

But, I stopped playing in churches about 5 years ago.

Everyone has a breaking point. Mine was getting fired in the middle of the sermon, like some employee who was let go so the company could go in a “different direction.” The newly-hired music minister required a large salary, and we paid musicians had to go. Only, we didn't know it until we heard the news right in the middle of a service, which meant we still had to go out and play again during the invitation. (For the uninitiated, the invitation is where you are asked to make a life decision based on the sermon.) I still can’t decide if the minister was displaying an incredible amount of trust in us, or stupidity, to fire someone and then give them an open microphone right in front of the church's biggest customers. In spite of the golden opportunity, we didn’t cause a scene.

I haven’t stepped foot in that church since.

The thing is, gigging in a church is a job. It's an unfair mix of personal and professional with nothing but gray areas. And every job – when treated like a job – has its drawbacks. Sometimes you love your job, but your boss makes you so miserable you quit. Other times, people just can’t take the day-to-day minutia that many take without a second thought. Likewise, playing music at a church has similar conditions. From what I understand, some churches, like Fellowship Church and Prestonwood Baptist, pay professional musicians very handsomely because they believe quality is important, and they understand that you have to pay for quality. As a trade off, those musicians are not expected to be members or adhere to any type of morality clause. It’s strictly a business transaction, but one based on a mutual understanding.

Other churches, like the one I used to belong to, put little concern in the quality of music. They paid us poorly, if at all, despite the fact that the main music minister makes nearly six figures. What’s more, this particular church does require church membership and holds the musicians to certain standards of behavior, although it was undisclosed upon hiring. (As a quick example, some church musicians I played with were reported to the church elders for attending an R-rated party. Those accused had left before the party took an ungodly turn, but the musicians were still thought to have been part of the shenanigans, which supposedly caused "spiritual confusion" in the witness. They were suspended without pay -- a business move, if you will, but one that smacks of a corporate mentality where bad press needs to be snuffed out, regardless of reality).

By this point, you may notice something is missing. What about playing music to worship God? you may ask. Or, Playing church music shouldn’t be about feeling cool or making money. Well, you’d be right and wrong. One can’t forget a central truth: A church is a business. This truth runs afoul to what we’re conditioned to think about an ideal church. It’s there to love, to feed the poor, to fight against injustice, or to lead others to Truth. But, it’s also there to make money. In order to do all that other stuff, there has to be a cash flow. And sometimes, a business has to make decisions for the bottom line or to appease its customers in the pews.

Now I don’t expect, or need, a “perfect church” free of all the foibles of humanity. I’m not naive enough to believe that’s possible. But instead of focusing on the idealistic roles of the church, there’s often the selfishness of politics and popularity that sours the simple opportunity to serve. That’s why I now find that work impossible.

That two-pronged affront – dealing with the cold business aspects of church, as well as personal agendas – was just too much for me to handle. I’ve had offers to play in churches from time to time, but I grew tired of banging my head against the wall, of wanting it to mean something but realizing that it just didn’t, not on any truly authentic level. For me, a local musician who both believes in God and earns income through local music gigs, I believe it's possible to straddle the line between church business and church worship. I’m just not willing to live in that gray area and I’ve lost the will to fight against the reality of the situation.

Yes, I still go to church. But no, I don’t play church music. Not anymore.