What do you really need to survive? A house? A stable job? Maybe, if you’re single you can get by off working an entry-level job and living with roommates or in a studio apartment. But if you’re married? If you have kids? Surely, you’d need stability, right? Privacy?
Kevin Schlereth’s perplexing career takes these sentiments and shows us how little we truly trust God. His resume boasts little of most touring artists: there are no giant streaming counts, there are no Tiktok sketches, no high-budget music videos, no label, no ad team. Even so, he tours and plays 200+ shows. That’s not a bad deal for an artist who isn’t a household name. But the fact he’s able to make this work for over a decade, all while taking his family on the road with him (he and his wife homeschool their children) exposes the vanity behind many of the metrics of success most people feel defined by. This is not as much as a testament to Kevin as much as it is a testament to a real God who really provides. On paper, you’d have thought the Schlereths would have found such a life impossible to manage and called it quits years ago.
I certainly would not suggest that such a life is advisable or possible for every person. But the fact it is possible for at least some people is inspiring. I’ve talked with a few artists who’ve realized that the dreams they thought were dead and buried were possible, if only they rethought how things played out. Take the average “Christian” professional: white collar life, modest-to-large home, flown out for speaking engagements, gets book royalties, has a podcast or other brand. This is not true of all people in ministry, but it certainly is common for the household names. The line between person and brand become blurred. Sometimes, people are famous simply for being famous, not because they have anything to say than what someone across the pew from you could offer.
Kevin’s approach strips back all of this to simplicity. He does not have a “merch table”; he has an area of offerings. It sounds trite, but he is clear to let the audience know that anything which appears to “belong to him” is offered as a gift because that is how God engages with us first and foremost; he is not opposed to receiving gifts in return, but there is no sense of coercion. Take a CD for free or leave $200 and take nothing. This is grace in action.
His sets follow a specific structure: his mustached face accompanied typically by a red hat, blue shirt, and red shorts, often bare-footed or just in socks, playing entirely unplugged. There are some instances he will plug in and use a microphone based on the room, but I’ve seen several instances (in more intimate settings, especially) where he’ll be the only artist to perform without any amplification. It is unproduced, yet it’s still beautiful and real, close and personal in a literal sense.
Kevin’s latest album, Settle In, centers on themes of Sabbath and rest. He rightly notes that the rest we see in the words of the Bible are often focused on people corporately (while we see the Pharisees attack Jesus for allegedly violating the Sabbath by Himself, God’s judgments in the Old Testament are more pronounced in the ways Israel has rejected faith in God’s providence and likewise prevented others from resting through increased labor). It’s a convicting listen, though it’s full of beautiful reminders of God’s provision.
And if we’re to rest together and see each other as sources of grace, I’d be remiss to not touch on the Porchlight network which in part allows Kevin to maintain community and consistency in his touring. Porchlight partners with artists and hosts to leverage hospitality as a gateway for connection. I had the pleasure of the main minds behind the network, and he walked the talk. The space was one of the most beautiful homes I’ve even been in; guests were treated with pizza and snacks (which took hours to prepare and additional hours to clean up). Most of these shows are on a suggested donation. The hosts truly care and want to support the artists, even as far as allowing them to spend the night. These are intimate, listening room settings where the audience engagement is central. Some listeners might choose to ask questions between songs; others may have larger conversations with their favorite artists after the performance. Being invited in as a guest is something we’ve lost the significance of in Western society, but many parts of the world see this as what it is: making high of the stranger and outsider. Porchlight has provided great opportunities for Kevin, as well as other artists like Zane Vickery, Chase Tremaine, and Wilder Adkins (of which all have shared the stage with Kevin, as far as I know). It’s not quite a label, but it’s certainly a means of uniting artists of a similar ethos.
All that said, Kevin at least reminds us that a modern nomad life needn’t be one of chaos or immaturity; beyond his tenured career and growing discography, he’s raised college-aged children, has developed several boardgame concepts, and is one of the critical figures behind Audiofeed. There’s a faithfulness and modesty that can’t help but be noticed when few visible distractions stand in the way. You wouldn’t hand this man’s strategy to a label and expect it to be met well. And yet, here he is, years, miles, and albums deep, proving that God multiplies the little things. To boot, his music happens to be quite good and Scripturally-sound, falling between the likes of folk and Midwest emo. It’s accessible without forsaking depth.
Ultimately, Kevin Schlereth’s ministry is convicting. It makes me realize the artificial barriers and requirements to God before I am willing to step out. Plenty of churches, ministries, and missionaries fail, so there’s no guarantee big risks will ultimately pay out how we might expect. But at the end of the day, if we have food to eat, a couch or two to sleep on, time in genuine community, and a God Who truly loves us, isn’t that a wonderful life?
Kevin Schlereth’s music is available on streaming services and Bandcamp. He has a forthcoming vinyl edition of Settle In due to arrive in a few months.
