one of my favorite blogs these days is stuff christians like. it’s a wonderful insider skewer of churchianity and our proclivities. i keep thinking the author will run out of stuff to post about; but with most new posts (now well into the 200s), he finds stuff that i laugh at or cringe at (or both).
recently, stuff christians like posted #241: aweful youth group rap. very, very funny post.
here’s the lead in…
Few things strike terror into my heart quite like hearing a youth minister say, “yo, yo, mic check!” For although I love rap and will be doing an entry on Christian rap as soon as I can get my friend Lecrae to help me out, I find most youth group rap excruciating.
I think the main reason I don’t love it is that most of the words in the Christian vocabulary are really hard to rhyme. God, blood, Jesus, Holy Spirit, have you ever tried to rhyme any of those words? And don’t even try Ichthus, that thing is impossible.
Usually what happens is that your youth minister gets quiet on stage. He/She puts on a bandana or a trucker hat backwards and you start to get a little sweaty. Then, out of nowhere, you hear a Jay-Z song start playing and your youth minister says:
i’ll let you click through to his post to see the actual horrific rap. let’s just mention that it actually includes the words “bill hybels” in the rap.
AND, in the spirit of self-disclosure, i am forced to admit that i, yes, me, ysmarko, have been – deep in my youth ministry past – a bad rapper. this surfaced again recently when my daughter remembered some lame rap i’d written and performed at a wheaton college talent show (as part of some mc’ing responsibilities) and had unleashed from my memory banks onto her at some young age, where it lodged in her brain somewhere, only to be called out these many years later. now, she and max keep asking me to “do that rap.” a couple weeks ago, liesl asked me to deliver it in front of some of her friends. i resisted, but eventually caved. and let me tell you, there is just nothing worse than a 45 year-old dad performing mediocre rap for his daughter’s middle school friends. they all insisted that it was cool; but i am sure – very sure – it is not.
as proof of my un-coolness, i now present you with that lame rap. (by the way, “mighty mo” was the rap handle i’d given myself, which i actually thought was cool. “mo”, of course, being my initials).
well you’ve got the mighty mo and i’m here to say
that my rap is strong, through the night and through the day
’cause i’ve got the beat that’s sure to move your feet
without me rockin’ is incomplete
so get up on the floor and let your body move
and listen really close to my super-jammin’ groove
yeah, hip-hip-hop and don’t you let it stop
keep jammin’ ‘cross the floor ’til you practically drop
and just before you do, lift your head and plea
say, “please, mighty mo, energize me.”
yes, you read that correctly, it did say “super-jammin’ groove.” i now retire, off to listen to some snoop dogg.