Hyde, Jesse, “Hip-hop’s Public Enemy: G. Craige Lewis has one goal: Get hip-hop out of the church. Forever,” Dallas Observer, 8 Dec 2005.

 

OVERVIEW

 

1.        In the beginning, the devil created heavy metal.

2.        And it made white men and women worship him, causing them to eat bats, kill cats and carve pentagrams into their flesh. And the devil saw that it was good but that it had no impact whatsoever on black folks.

3.        And so he created a new form of music just for them. It had a catchy beat and infectious, hypnotizing rhymes, and the brothers liked it. It made them sag their pants and smoke weed and shoot each other from low-riding Impalas. And they called it hip-hop, and the devil saw that it was good.

The author of this article suggests the above to be the essence of G. Craige Lewis’ teaching. It explains why Lewis is so critical of Kirk Franklin, T.D. Jakes and the likes—both Christian artists and preachers who in his opinion are indulging in the Devil’s work. It also begins to explain why black leaders of Christian hip-hop such as William “Duce” Branch of Philadelphia’s Cross Movement along with Efrem Smith and Phil Jackson, authors of The Hip-Hop Church, are critical of G. Craige Lewis. Lewis has had a very negative effect on the national sales of Christian hip-hop.

 

G. Craige Lewis makes clear that he engaged in a 14-year study of hip-hop before being called by God to expose its satanic religion. Branch and other leaders who have done their own study of hip-hop, believe Elder Lewis has many of his facts wrong and tends to distort the complexity of hip-hop culture and rap music. (Lewis would say he is not condemning rap music per se but the hip-hop culture/religion, but he fails to clarify this complicated distinction—except that anything having to do with the hip-hop industry or celebrities is tainted.)

 

In his sermons and teaching, Lewis implies his study of hip-hop is original, led by the Spirit of God, and responding to God’s personal call. It all took place as he watched music videos through his mother’s cable box. Yet, he seems to be picking up on much earlier criticisms of rock and roll such as those of Bob Larson (see the reviews of his books on Amazon.com).

 

It began with Lewis seeing Almighty RSO on cable. He was startled when a rapper with a flat-top haircut turned around to show a 666 cut into his hair. Lewis makes no attempt to identify the Almighty RSO rappers (it was E-Devious who performed with Deff Jeff, Tom Rhomes and Ray Dog or Ray Benzino known for his feud with Eminem and the Source magazine). Nor did Lewis connect Almighty RSO (Rock Solid Organization) with Gravediggaz and other groups at that time for whom horror films became a metaphor for ghetto life and were termed horror-core or death rap. Regardless, the anti-christ “666” caught Lewis’ attention and led to his theory of hip-hop.

 

In Lewis’ explanation of his growing concern about rap music, he cites Dr. Dre’s “Nothing but a G Thang,” and Snoop Dogg’s “Murder was the Case,” and the CD jacket of “Bone Thugs ‘N Harmony” as producing growing alarm.

 

Certainly the “Gangster thing or lifestyle of drugs, crime and sex with “ho’s” described in such a raw and positive way by Dre and Snoop, and Snoop’s deal with the devil, and the death and demon fascination of Bone Thugs all need to be discussed and critiqued. And many may see a need for strong condemnation of such cultural aberrations. But along with such condemnations, there is a need for careful consideration of the realities of ghetto life, the pressures of the hip-hop music industry, the reaction of fans, and general impact of secular rap on society. Instead, these specific examples lead, for Craige Lewis, to a theory of Lucifer’s being the ultimate author of hip-hop.

 

Back in the 1970s, rock critics took Isaiah 14, a song against the king of Babylon, to be a definitive explanation of Satan’s origin (an explanation on which serious biblical scholars are divided). They saw Lucifer as God’s brightest angel, “Daystar and son of the Morning,” who becomes the chief minister of cosmic music. Realizing his great beauty (see also Ezekiel 28) and the manipulative power of his music, this theory goes, Satan led other angels astray and was cast down to earth.  Lewis does not give credit to earlier secular music critics who saw rock and roll beat as satanic in origin.

 

Lewis’ theology of hip-hop continues as he implies the Devil used Afrika Bombaataa to invent hip-hop after traveling to Africa to see its Satanism and the Pharoah’s claim to be divine. He seems to say that Africans are uniquely adept at “conjuring up the Devil” and have a special weakness for rhythmic influence. It would seem that his history, social science and theology are all to be questioned here. Much about the origin of hip-hop in the South Bronx during the 1970s—and the long, historic background to the exciting folk arts of rapping, deejaying, break dancing and graffiti—are missing.

 

According to the Dallas Observer’s reporter, “God visited Craige Lewis, then 18, in his bedroom:”

 

“He literally revealed himself to me as just light, and he took me out of my body and showed me what I would be doing now. I saw the congregations. He took me from church to church, city to city, country to country; he showed me the audiences and told me I’d be helping in something that was happening in the End Times.”

 

Hip-hop, God told him, would rock the world, just as heavy metal had. And the church’s elders, blind to its power, would let it creep in like a poison, unaware that it was not only a form of music but an occult religion with its own temple, [built on the foundation of Bombaataa’s Zulu nation, its own god, Ja Rule, and with] its own prophet (KRS-One), its own Jesus (Biggie Smalls) and its own John the Baptist (Tupac Shakur).

 

Its doctrine was violence, sex and worship of self. It advocated piercing the body (a mark of slavery), branding the skin (a mark of Satanic worship) and tattoos (a mark of Cain). All this has no place in the church or home.

 

Above all, Lewis says, hip-hop teaches its followers to worship false gods. Jay-Z, for example calls himself J-Hova. Nas wore a crown of thorns and pretended to be crucified in the 1999 video for “Hate Me Now” and later sat like Jesus at the Last Supper for the album cover of “Street’s Disciple.” Countless rappers have compared themselves to Jesus in song and image. “KlRS-One says we are gods unto ourselves. Afrika Bombaataa says we are kings on another planet, Hip-hop rests upon anti-God, false-god teachings,” Lewis says.

 

One of Lewis’ first converts was Kevin Thornton of the group, Color Me Badd. The group was on the verge of a multi-million dollar contract. Among other things, thousands of girls are said to have lost their virginity under the influence of the hit song, “Sex Me Up.” That night, after what Lewis thought was a disappointing first sermon on music, Kevin came to him and confessed he must give up life as a hip-hop artist and quit the group. Kevin has continued on the path both as a preacher and now solo Christian rap artist.

 

Lewis lashes out against Christian rap artists who “say they’re ministering. But they’re throwing gang signs, grabbing their crotch, acting all crazy, and then the kids break into a frenzy and it’s no better than what they were doing at school.”

 

Among those criticized by Lewis are Yolanda Adams (for touring with Gerald LeVert), Karen Clark (for having her music produced by Missy Elliot). His criticism of Hezekiah Walker and Bobby Jones rests on implications that they are gay.

 

His chief target, however, has been his long-time friend, Kirk Franklin. Kirk came into Lewis’ high school class one day (Lewis began as a high school music teacher) and told students of his plan to combine secular and Gospel music. Years later, Lewis says, Kirk admitted the experiment to merge hip-hop and Gospel was unsuccessful. But, in Lewis’ mind, the damage had already been done. Kirk Franklin has been called the godfather of holy hip-hop from his 1997 song hit, “Stomp.”

 

I know the Kirk Franklin before the industry (Lewis says). And I know how the industry targets people like him—that grew up without parents, that grew up without leadership. They’ll take advantage of that, they’ll take a poor guy like that with talent and then give him everything, and he’ll become a slave to it.

 

A bigger target for Lewis’ polemics is the famed black preacher, Bishop T. D. Jakes of Potter’s House mega-church in Dallas, whom Lewis sees, along with other big pastors, as having “compromised their core values for money and fame.” In particular, Lewis is calling on Christians to boycott Jake’s summer MegaFest which attracts well over a thousand folks. Jesse Hyde describes MegaFest as

… a four-day festival that mixes old-time revival preaching with BMX and skateboarding demonstrations, comedy shows and concerts—because gospel artists and secular artists would perform on the same stage.

 

Detroit pastor, the Rev. Lennell Caldwell says of Lewis: “He’s God’s mouthpiece. He’s the only one God is using to bring balance back to the church.”

 

On the other side of the debate over holy hip-hop is Cross Movement’s Branch.

 

Lewis’ loudest detractors, though, are from the underground subculture of holy hip-hop, and they will gladly go on record to blast him. Perhaps the most articulate is William “Duce” Branch, a 2002-graduate of Dallas Theological Seminary, now living in Philadelphia.

 

Branch’s unholy path into Christian rap reads like a cliché—he was raised in the projects, he dealt drugs, he stole cars. Then he found Jesus. Today Branch fronts a group called Cross Movement, owns a record label and performs as a solo artist under the name Ambassador. His most recent album, “The Thesis,” debuted at No. 5 on the Billboard Gospel Chart.

 

Branch says he met Lewis though a friend when he was studying at Dallas Seminary. And that he once visited him at his Fort Worth home. At the time, he says, Lewis was producing Christian music, including rap, at a small recording studio in his house. “At that point we were seeing eye to eye. We were trading views on the secularization of Christian music. It wasn’t until later that he took it a step further.”

 

Branch thinks Lewis’ crusade is fueled by money; others suggest he is a disgruntled musician jealous of Kirk Franklin’s success….

 

Whatever his motives are, Branch says, Lewis’ message is built upon lies and distortions and that the only reason it passes for truth is because those he shares it with are already biased against hip-hop. “He has taken advantage of a very uninformed body of believers and provided them with a very skewed picture that’s easy to believe because he’s basically struck first,” Branch says.

 

Lewis is understandably annoyed with the suggestion he’s in this crusade for the money. He is obviously working hard and sacrificially, and would often rather be at home with his family. Still, since Ex Ministries DVDs sell at a rate of 100 copies a day and he gets $1000 a speaking engagement, Craige Lewis is doing all right. This debate, however, is about much more than money—as the author of the Observer’s article points out.

 

Keeping the sacred and the secular apart has long proved difficult, especially when it comes to music. Some of Martin Luther’s hymns were sung to the tune of German drinking songs. The early music of black Pentecostals, often called shouting music, came from the surrounding juke joints.

 

Gospel has influenced secular music as well. Pioneering soul singers such as Sam Cooke made their careers selling gospel songs to secular audiences. Many of today’s biggest hip-hop stars also came from the church, an influence that is evident in their work….

 

To some, mixing the sacred with the profane is blasphemous. Ray Charles was vilified for playing gospel songs in bars. Thomas Dorsey, widely considered the father of gospel, was told his song, “Precious Lord” was too bluesy. The most influential gospel stars of the last 35 years, in fact, have all been lambasted for bringing worldly sounds into the church—from Andre Crouch in the 1970s to Kirk Franklin and Yolanda Adams today.

 

“There is a history of resistance to new forms of music within the African-American,” says Phil Jackson, a pastor who runs Tha House, a hip-hop church in Chicago. “It was that way with R&B, jazz, every musical genre. Over time, these churches will come around to hip-hop. If they don’t, they’re going to lose a lot of kids.”

 

Lewis, on the other hand, says he’s not interested in the world but in the church. He doesn’t care about kids who want nothing to do with the church. “The Bible never told us to ‘reach’ anybody,” he says. “It’s not in there. It tells us to be a light unto the world. But if you’re not living a light life, you got to trick them to come to church with some kind of gimmick.”

 

Lewis’ meetings end with a strong call for consecration and destruction of secular CDs. Hip-hop CDs are brought up and stacked around the altar. “With the assistance of the pastor, Lewis smashes them to pieces. They keep smashing until there’s nothing left.”

 

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION AND DISCUSSION

 

1.     This is a troubling debate, and it may have struck strong convictions and emotions in you. Do you consider the article above a fair presentation of the controversy? Why or why not? How would you present it differently?

 

2.     Which of the following do you consider secular hip-hop music to be?

                a) possibly satanic, but at least negatively catastrophic in its effects upon young people
        b) quite negative in terms of its content, life-styles, and commercial production
        c) both positive and negative in terms of the artists and their fans
        d) really positive in message and influence

3.     As a parent would you allow all, some, or no secular hip-hop in your house (considering you have “tweens” and teenage children)?

4.     As a youth minister, what would be your policy regarding secular hip-hop being played in your van or among your youth group members?

5.     As a youth minister, what would be your policy about Christian or holy hip-hop being played in your van or over a loud speaker at a summer camp?

6.     What is your opinion of Christian or holy hip-hop, and Christian step, stomp or krumping dance groups in a worship service?

7.     How important do you consider this discussion to be among church leaders and members, youth leaders and young people themselves?  How much work does such a study and discussion need?

IMPLICATIONS

 

1.     This controversy will not just go away. The discussion about the secular and the spiritual, the church’s responsibility to be an influence on society (as salt and light), the degree to which Christians take on various aspects of their culture (language, food, transportation, entertainment, etc.), and how church itself should reflect cultural trends (in technology, relevance and style) is perennial and on-going.

2.     There is a natural tendency to avoid the controversial. This issue, however, is affecting our young people, society in general, and the church as well. Young people respond best, not as we throw truth at them, but as we take time to allow them to discover truth themselves and discuss it among themselves. This leads to genuine integration of self and internalization of values and responsible decision-making.

3.     No matter our position in this debate, Elder G. Craige Lewis is raising some very important criticisms of hip-hop culture and its extremes. They must be taken seriously. On the other hand, his critics are asking probing questions that demand study and discussion. To date, this public debate, as witnessed in the popular press here, has not progressed very profitably. There is further work to be done that should not be avoided by heated rhetoric.