Cornerstone, Part One

Cornerstone Festival, a Christian camping celebration of music held on an old pig farm in Illinois, was controversial from the moment it began in 1984, so it didn’t surprise me that I heard several conflicting opinions on whether or not it was good. “It’s always sweltering— you can’t think.” “Cornerstone is the highlight of my year.” “There’s nothing there but stupid screamo bands.” “It’s like a modern-day Feast of Tabernacles.” “It doesn’t hold to its ideals.” “There’s good music if you look for it.” “It’s in the middle of a cornfield!”

I was headed to Cornerstone, no matter what, and I was determined to have a good time, no matter what. I packed the lightest clothes I could find, dug out a couple of wide-brimmed hats, made sure I had sunblock, and grabbed a sleeping bag. Then I was off with the Curry family for the almost-four-hour drive to the edge (if not the middle) of nowhere in Illinois.

If nothing else, the Festival requires a specific mindset. Before I came in, I put these expectations in place: 1) It would be extremely hot, sweaty, grimy, and all-around miserable as far as weather was concerned. 2) Everyone would be on short fuses as a result of the weather. 3) It would be loud all the time. 4) Most of the bands wouldn’t be my taste, so I’d only see a few.

After only a couple days, these were revised to: 1) It’s not extremely hot all the time, just most of the time, and the levels of sweat and grime that one can reach at Cornerstone staggers the imagination. 2) My group, at least, kept very civil and friendly because we gave each other a lot of grace and kept things in perspective. 3) It was quiet in the mornings, and at night the noise was nothing louder than a pair of earplugs could fix. 4) Most of the bands still weren’t my taste, but I did get to expand my horizons.

In addition to these revised expectations, I had to adjust to these: 1) It is a music festival, not a hippie festival. Most of the population are punkers, goths, yuppies, hipsters, and youth group kids. 2) Not everyone at the Festival is friendly: you have to reach out to them in order to get a response. 3) The main reason Cornerstone is amazing is not the music or even necessarily the people: it’s the simple fact that there is a huge gathering of Christians in one place. The sense of family— even if it’s the “strangers I’m related to” family— is strong at Cornerstone.

During the six days I attended the Festival, I felt my world open up. I did a photo project which involved asking everyone I saw if I could take their picture. I attended a seminar about the emergent church and how missions tie in with travel. I met everyone from Scottish punker to a PCA pastor from Pennsylvania. I played violin in parades with my friends and onstage for crowded tents of eager listeners. I sold merch in a sauna-like tent striped red and white, and rescued a crawdad in the middle of a night from some teenagers who thought it was a scorpion. Each little event doesn’t sound like much, the cumulative effect kept growing throughout the week. Even when attending a concert of music that was putting me to sleep, I would look around the dozens— sometimes hundreds— of people around me and think, This is my family. It was the same kind of awe I feel when I’m in California or Washington or anywhere new: “I’m [fill in the blank]… with my family!”

Was the weather miserably hot? Did tempers get short at times, were there boring concerts, did I see hypocrisy and discord? Well, of course. But all in all, that was overwhelmed by the beauty of peanut butter sandwiches at midday with friends, harp music blasting through ten-foot speakers, artistic tattoos on people’s shoulders, and a thousand other details that brought the week to life in vivid detail.

That said, there were a couple highlights for me, aside from the joy of performing onstage for an enthusiastic audience. But that’s an entry for another time.

~Lisa Shafter