How Heavy Metal Prepared Me for the Gospel

Photo by Rajiv Ashrafi

The first record I owned was the 1976 Destroyer album by Kiss. I even had their poster on my wall. I was 6. It wasn’t just their cool make-up, though that was part of it. It was Rock and Roll, and I was drawn to that sound. Eventually hard rock gave way to heavy metal.

Metal initially took over my musical interests because of the aggression, complexity, and melody of the music. And when I began reading the lyrics I found something deeper that “spoke to me" in a way that made me listen. While popular rock bands were singing about girls, partying, and drugs, metal bands were dealing with reality. They rejected superficiality. “Posers” were the enemy of heavy metal.

These bands screamed because they had something to say, and were often angry. I shared much of their frustration. They spoke in ways that challenged and corrected me, sympathizing with my pain and questions, and encouraging me to think more deeply about life. I had never been to church. I didn’t connect with my teachers. My parents couldn’t help me process the big questions about life, death, suffering, and purpose. But metal spoke to me, it seemed to understand me, so I listened intently. I, like all my metal-head friends, poured over and memorized the lyrics of these albums.

Iron Maiden functioned like a teacher, educating me on the importance of history and value of literature. East coast thrashers, Anthrax, were like older brothers who taught me to not take myself too seriously, but to seriously consider the plight of others. Bands like Testament and Ozzy Osbourne were like prophets that warned of the unjust wars, and the dangers of the occult (which I was already learning the hard way). Slayer’s “Silent Scream” was the first time I was confronted with the violence and ugliness of abortion— something up to that point I was in favor of and had encouraged girls I knew to embrace. Metallica’s “Fade to Black” was the first time I heard someone articulate the same suicidal thoughts and despair that plagued me. And instead of encouraging me to end it all, it gave me, and thousands of other teens, a reason to keep fighting. I wasn’t weird or alone. Other people were struggling like me. And their classic, “Creeping Death” was the first time I ever heard the story of Israel’s enslavement in and deliverance from Egypt.

Metal encouraged me to break free from groupthink, to be myself, to watch out for slick preachers who promise prosperity while taking your money, and to think critically about politics and social issues. Ultimately, metal was more honest about life than the other music of the 80’s playing on the radio. It admitted that life is hard, but it’s still worth living. Metal acknowledged pain, suffering, and sorrow, but didn’t wallow in self pity. Of course there were other messages, and not all of them were good, but these were the things that stuck.

Over time these bands did become idols to me, little gods I worshipped. Yet, God used all of the tapes and records in my collection to prepare me to hear the gospel in my senior year in high school. I was set up to hear God’s answer to evil, sin, and suffering; my evil, sin, and suffering. His commands were clear, unambiguous, and objectively right. His love for sinners was humbling and unexpected. Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection for the unworthy was beautiful.

I went to a church a few times and heard a humble, faithful pastor preach the truth without hypocrisy. I began reading the Bible. And one night, after barely graduating from high school, everything changed. While lying on my bed and reading the Gospel of Matthew, The Holy Spirit killed the old me and resurrected a new me. Confusion gave way to conviction, and conviction gave birth to conversion.

God used many things throughout my youth to prepare me to hear and heed his word. Heavy metal was a big one.