New Orleans is an odd city. It’s as if, at one point a long time ago, someone who made important decisions just stopped and said: You know what? City planning isn’t worth the hassle. A typical block goes like this: historical building, bar, empty lot, business, abandoned home, historical building, bar, empty lot. Repeat a thousand times, and you have New Orleans.

Then again, there’s something about New Orleans. From the architecture, to the music, to the people, to the food—it’s literally like no other place in America. Its uniqueness—especially the renegade spirit and resiliency of its people—makes it a perfect home for MUTEMATH.

When we flew to New Orleans to spend the day with the MUTEMATH guys for this issue’s cover story, they had just returned from a disastrous show in Tulsa. Literally disastrous. A freak storm blew down the stage they were playing on at an outdoor festival. They had to scramble for their safety and lost gear—to many bands, it’d be a catastrophic event. But the guys told the story over lunch like it was just kind of par for the course. Tomorrow, they’ll leave for tour in Japan. Stuff happens. Stages blow over. You pick up the pieces and move on.

You’ll read about it in the cover story on page 52, but the guys have had a lot of “stuff” happen in recent years. After years of infamous label struggles, the recording of their sophomore album, Armistice, was so creatively difficult it nearly broke MUTEMATH up. Well, it kind of did. (One of their three founding members abruptly left the band before they hit the studio to record their new album, Odd Soul.) It’s the sort of thing many bands don’t recover from. But with MUTEMATH, stuff happens. You pick up the pieces and move on.

I’s all led to a really interesting new chapter in their lives and careers. After getting their start in the Christian music industry as part of the short-lived but acclaimed band Earthsuit, the guys regrouped and carved out a new artistic path as MUTEMATH.

The Christian subculture is an odd place by itself, but for lead singer Paul Meany and drummer Darren King, it was an especially tough fit. Both of the guys had an absolutely bizarre upbringing in the church. (Trust me, after spending all day hearing their uproariously hilarious horror stories, volumes could be written about their experiences.) As kids, the guys saw God as little more than an unattainable standard of holiness, something they always fell short of.

So as we drove around town—visiting the small church where Paul started playing worship music at age 5, seeing the street in the French Quarter where he attempted earnest street witnessing in high school and failed miserably, to the corner where a young Darren unknowingly befriended a hooker­—we heard story after story of the guys tripping over themselves to make God happy, yet not knowing how. As youth, they wanted more than anything to earn God’s love but felt they only disappointed Him. (A young Darren “got saved” at least weekly.) The misguided view of God their churches ingrained into them is something the guys are still wrestling with today.

Some people can transition to a real relationship with God without trauma. But then there’s the rest of us, the silent majority who have to go through stuff, question everything or push God away to test if He’s real.

What happens when the view you used to have of God comes crashing down? That’s what the guys are still figuring out: If a relationship with God isn’t all the crazy church stuff, guilt and condemnation they experienced, what is it?

Well, it’s messy. It’s hopeful. And it’s worth fighting for.

That’s why New Orleans is a perfect fit for MUTEMATH. Their journey looks a lot like those countless unplanned city blocks. Beauty next door to brokenness.

You need strength and resiliency to make it in New Orleans. You don’t stick around because it’s easy. And that’s how the MUTEMATH guys seem to view their faith. There were times they were ready to walk away, and really tried to, but couldn’t. They couldn’t give up on it.

And like New Orleans, they’re starting to experience a rebirth. Sure, there are a lot of past scars visible everywhere you look, but the atmosphere has changed. There’s optimism.

So many people use hurt and disillusionment as an excuse to walk away from faith. But if the MUTEMATH guys can go through what they did and come out semi-normal, there’s hope for all of us.

Life isn’t going to be perfect. Neither is the Church, and definitely not Christians.

Stuff happens to all of us. But like MUTEMATH, like New Orleans, we need to pick up the pieces and move on.

CAMERON STRANG is the founder and CEO of RELEVANT. Connect with him on Google+, Twitter.com/cameronstrang or Facebook.com/cestrang. Read more from the November/December 2011 issue of RELEVANT here.

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