When I was a teenager, things were pretty black and white. Good was good, bad was bad, and I thought I could tell the difference between the two. One of the things I categorically defined as “bad” was LDS pop music (this was the late eighties, so cut me some slack). It bothered me when sacred phrases, concepts, and names were paired with rhythms and vocal styles that were anything but; or when the music and lyrics were more emotionally manipulative than spiritually uplifting.
Bad, bad, bad.
But always, there were people who loved the music, who claimed that it helped them feel the Spirit, who were downright teary before the end of the introduction.
Which left me wondering how I could be so insensitive.