We started by talking about our musical instruments, which we loved deeply in theory and stored carelessly in reality, proving that passion and maintenance are not the same skill set. In high school we somehow managed to be both band kids and athletes, demonstrating that blowing into brass and colliding with linebackers can coexist as long as no one asks too many questions. We treated our instruments like priceless treasures while also leaving them in car trunks during temperature swings that would alarm a meteorologist.

Naturally this led us to celebrity culture, where authenticity is expected to be spontaneous but professionally managed at all times. We used Kid Rock as an example, mostly because nothing says “quiet spiritual reflection” like stadium lighting and pyrotechnics. We discussed how celebrities are supposed to represent their faith publicly, but only in ways that don’t inconvenience their brand managers.

We wrestled with the idea that when a famous person talks about Christianity, we immediately suspect a marketing strategy, yet when they don’t talk about it, we suspect cowardice, which is a terrific system. Wealth came up, because apparently following Jesus is simple until your house has more square footage than the New Testament. We examined how fame turns every belief into a press release and every doubt into a headline.

Hollywood, of course, typecasts everyone, including people who are just trying to have a thought, which makes it difficult to be a nuanced human when you’ve already been labeled “The Faith Guy.” We reflected on interviews, where the goal is often to sound natural while answering pre-approved questions in a room full of lighting equipment. In the end we concluded that genuine conversation is surprisingly rare, mostly because it involves two people talking without a script, which in modern media qualifies as reckless behavior.