If God expects me, in order to be a Christian, to be able to theologically justify every move that I make, I'm sorry. I'm going to be a miserable failure.
You're living in Nashville. Are you in a church these days?
The Christian music industry can be fickle. Fans, radio, and retail were angry at Amy Grant for her divorce, at Michael English and Sandi Patty for adultery. But eventually, they were "welcomed" back. How do you think your fans and radio and Christian stores will react to the news that you're gay? Or do you care?
Knapp: I do have a soul! (laughs) I care deeply. It's a very heart-wrenching decision to come into a room knowing that there are many people who just won't come with me. The Christian bookstore thing is probably not going to happen; this isn't a Christian record, and it's not going to be marketed to Christian radio.
K-LOVE won't pick this one up?
Knapp: I doubt it, but there's no reason they can't play it. To me, my faith is fairly evident in what I'm writing, but it's not a record for the sanctuary. That in itself is a huge risk for me—to be able to write without feeling like I've got to manufacture something that's not entirely genuine, to take a song and feel like I have to make an obvious biblical reference. That's not there anymore. I've actually buried it; for me, it's an exercise in liberty. In a spiritual context, will God still be evident in me when I write songs? I sort of nervously wring my hands together and go, Please don't leave me.
You're saying Please don't leave me to God, or fans, or whom?
Knapp: To me, and the divine experience of being a musician—that private world of where I integrate that into my life and where it comes out on a public level, as a song. I have a lot of fans who live in real-life scenarios, not just live within the walls of their church. They aren't surrounded by Christians all day long; they don't just listen to Christian music. I have a lot of critically thinking fans who are trying to sort out their lives as Christians as best they know how. I think as a result of that, a lot of them have been marginalized; they're still seeking to be Christians but not always measuring up to the marketed idea of who they should be.
You're playing live shows again …
Knapp: Yes. My concerts right now include the ultra-conservative hand raisers that are going to make this bar their worship zone. And there's a guy over on the left having one too many, and there's a gay couple over on the right. That's my dream scenario. I love each and every one of them. At the end of the day, it's music.
Are you still playing your old songs in concert?
Knapp: A bit, yeah.
Knapp:"Martyrs and Thieves" I'll probably always play off of Kansas. "Fall Down" off of The Way I Am. The songs still have to speak to me. I had to go back and learn my old songs, but that's been part of my process too—feeling like because I was gay that I couldn't sing those songs anymore. I even said, "Don't give me a [live] set longer than what I can play with this new music, because I just can't play the old music." I just flat out said I wouldn't do it.
But you're already rethinking that?
Knapp: I'm enjoying what I'm playing now. It's been organic. Amy Courts, a gal who's joined me on this tour, said she wanted to sing some of the old songs with me. I was like, Man, I don't know. I swore I'd never play that song again. But we start playing it, and it just hits me right in my heart. It's like somebody else wrote it. I realized that it comes from a very honest, genuine place. I've started to make those connections between the old songs and what I'm doing now. It was an extraordinarily helpful connect, because for a long time I thought it was old life vs. new life. But it's not. It was a real comfort to me to realize I'm still the same person, that the baggage or new scenarios we pick up along the way are part of the long-term story.