BOB FAW: Across America, in toddling towns like Chicago, hip-hop isn't just hot -- it's downright holy.
UNIDENTIFIED RAPPER #1: Bless the Lord through the house. Bless the Lord through the house.
FAW: Hip-hop, the inner-city sound of protest and rage, is now being used to bring souls to Christ.
UNIDENTIFIED MEN (Singing): Pray turn from your ways. You've got to seek his face.
FAW: An art form often raw, vulgar -- sometimes misogynistic -- here proclaiming the gospel.UNIDENTIFIED PERFORMERS: Are you ready for the change that's going to change your life?
FAW: This new style of worship uses both the lingo of the streets ...
UNIDENTIFIED RAPPER #2: Church, they call me big brother bang-wow. I'm the one that brings the funk, the bang, and the wow -- all in the name of Jesus Christ. And I never turn my back on God.
FAW: ... and its hard-driving cadence. Rappers call this "step sessions." In an old factory converted into a sanctuary, the physical and the verbal are accompanied by old-fashioned testimonials.UNIDENTIFIED MAN: As crazy as I was for the devil, I'm more crazy for Christ!
FAW: Sponsored by the Evangelical Covenant Church, these twice-monthly Saturday night sessions are the inspiration of Phil Jackson, the worship leader.
PHIL JACKSON (Pastor, The House, Lawndale Community Church) (Preaching): It's important to me that we raise up brothers to be serious about our commitment to Christ. Am I right?FAW: A hip, 41-year-old former seminarian, father of 3, who says when it comes to reaching young people, most churches just don't get it.
(To Rev. Jackson): The old hymns, the conventional order of service, that's not going to cut it with these kids?
Rev. JACKSON: What we're trying to do, objectively, is to reach students where they are, to take them where God would have them to be and using the vehicle of hip-hop.
FAW: Jackson does more than talk the talk. In Chicago's North Lawndale neighborhood, where drugs and violence are rampant and the unemployment rate approaches 50 percent, he cruises the mean streets inviting anyone and everyone to what Jackson calls The House of Hope.
Rev. JACKSON: You'd like it; these folks look like you and act like you. They are there all the time.
FAW: And "there" is like no other service. These churchgoers here are lured by raffles. During services, free CDs and hats are dispensed to loosen things up. There's the hip-hop version of bobbing for applesRev. JACKSON (To Participants Putting Faces in Whipped Cream): One, two, three ... go!
FAW: Scoff if you will, but it's working. On Saturday night, when many kids wouldn't dream of going to church, they flock to this one: 500 seats filled, standing room only.
SARAH LIVERPOOL: Normally, no. But this is nice -- something positive to do on the weekend.
MIKKAL HARRIS (Performer): I was, like, the biggest alcoholic. I smoked a lot of weed. I've done a lot of vile stuff with a lot of women. We come from the streets. I mean, everybody sitting here comes from the streets, so if you want to reach the streets you have to be the streets. I mean, you can't grab a microphone and just talk about God just because you love him. There is more to it than that. People have to actually feel what you were talking about, and if you don't feel it yourself, you can't relay the message.
DARYL ESQUIVEL (Performer): I don't even perceive myself to be a performer. I look at myself as being a minister and a servant of the Lord.
MICAH BERRYHILL (Performer): What we do, we give it in the form of hip-hop, in the form of rap. We believe it works because we see lives change.
Rev. JACKSON (To Congregation): I say Jesus, you say Christ. Jesus!
