In recent years, Jon Guerra has emerged as one of the most formidable talents making distinctly Christian music today. He first grabbed my attention with the 2020 release of Keeper of Days, which I called “one of the best Christian records I’ve heard in years.” I praised his 2023 album, Ordinary Ways, as a “God-centered masterpiece.” In the intervening years, Guerra has released an array of stellar singles, EPs, and collaborations (including one of the winning songs in The Gospel Coalition’s recent gospel song contest). But today, Guerra releases an album—simply titled Jesus—that exceeds the high bar he’s already established. The album’s 12 songs are soul-nourishing and faith-enriching. It won’t top the Christian music charts, but it should. This is Christian music that deserves the largest possible audience. Give the album a full, focused listen. Then check out our Q&A below, in which Guerra offers insight into the album’s title and themes, the background of some songs, and how being a father has influenced his art. Here’s an edited portion of our interview. The album’s title is bold but fitting. What led you to title the album in this Christocentric way? This entire album is in conversation with the words of Christ. I was aiming for simplicity, only leaving the essential elements and nothing more. Simply titling it Jesus seemed right for an album about someone who didn’t have excess, who didn’t have a place to lay his head (Luke 9:58). I wanted just enough music and lyrics to frame the person, but nothing superfluous. The title evokes that. My other albums have discernible but somewhat ambiguous throughlines. This album has a very distinct one: Jesus in all his perplexing, enigmatic glory. He’s both consoling and challenging, Savior and teacher. He speaks of life everlasting and of taking up your cross. He says to follow him; we must love our enemies and hate our family (Luke 14; Matt. 10). In writing these songs, I found the words of Christ to be generative enough without adding too many of my own. Most of the songs start with something he said. So, the title felt right. The sequence of songs on Jesus is so intentional. Talk a bit about the album’s flow, the opening and closing songs (which are both stunning), and the instrumental song in the middle. Sequencing is always very important. It’s wild how different a collection of songs can feel in a different order! The record opens with “In the Beginning Was Love” as the opening thesis and closes with “Jesus” as the coda. The intention is that before we hear what Christ has to say or see what he does, we have to acknowledge that what we are encountering is love incarnate. When the love of God takes shape in a life, it looks like Jesus. So the album is a portrait of love, of Christ. Tracks 2–11 are different colors and shapes in the portrait. The album is a portrait of love, of Christ. The songs are different colors and shapes in the portrait. “The Death of Lazarus” is a wordless breath between some lyric-heavy songs, which gives voice to something crucial to the experience of Christ in the Gospels. When Lazarus dies, Jesus cries. That grief is as real as the resurrection. I felt an album about Jesus needed to acknowledge that. The song is placed in the middle of the album because death is always an interruption, but it’s not the end. Say a bit about each of the three singles released from the album so far: ‘I See the Birds,’ ‘Who Is Greatest?’ and ‘Reckoner.’ Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation makes the point in the title. For a million reasons—technology, social media, political unrest, familial fracture, loss of religious mooring—we are in the age of anxiety. “I See the Birds” tries to let Jesus have a say in our conversation about anxiety. “Who Is Greatest?” is like a distillation of the beatitudes. In the kingdom, blessing looks a lot different than it looks in the world. Weakness is strength, poverty is wealth, and unless you “become like little children,” you can never enter the kingdom of heaven. In the kingdom of God, we are children in God’s care. In the kingdom, we don’t have to look out for ourselves. “Reckoner (An Axe Laid at the Root)” tries to channel the voice and spirit of John the Baptist. John was a radical figure who saw straight through people and wasn’t afraid to say so (“You brood of vipers!”). He’s antagonistic toward the religious establishment. He criticizes a political leader for his moral failings and eventually gets killed for it. His presence and message felt important to include in an album about Christ. They are cousins after all, both by blood and vocation. If you had to pick one song from the album that feels most dear to you, what would it be? The song I probably hold closest is “Where Your Treasure Is.” It’s a song about money, security, and how the overall shape of one’s identity is formed by where we place our trust. ‘Where Your Treasure Is’ is a song about money, security, and how the overall shape of one’s identity is formed by where we place our trust. As I wrote the song I thought about my childhood—about being the only dark-haired brown kid in a school of blond-haired white kids and trying, with my hair gel and knock-off sneakers, desperately to fit in. I thought about my daughters and the kind of life I’m signing them up for through my decisions. I thought about being the beloved only child of my immigrant parents who chose to “serve God not money” in full-time ministry my whole life, and whose radical trust in God’s provision I deeply admire. I’ve seen the Lord provide for them, and for me, but their journey hasn’t been easy. We all know that as children, we metabolize our parents’ struggles as well as their victories, and, in large part, that determines how we move through the world. I was feeling quite deeply about all those things and heard Christ say, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, where thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is there your heart will be also” (Matt. 6:19–21). Money makes the same promises God does: promises to provide, promises of protection from harm and security to sleep easy, promises of pleasure forevermore. But God offers them as gifts, not as scarce commodities to be earned and accumulated. For Jesus, the either/or-ness of God and money is so loud and stark that it almost becomes perplexing when some seem to get both—they get to serve God and have a superabundance of resources. To mistrust someone purely on those grounds is obviously reductionistic. But at a certain point we all get rightfully squirmy when wealth and ministry blend. Yet to all of us, rich or poor, Christ says plainly, “You cannot serve God and money” (Matt. 6:24). Then he invites us to make sense of that. You’re a dad of young children (as I am). How has this informed your life as an artist, and a Christian, in this season? When I became a father, it was like being cracked open by love. The role of caretaker became so alive in me that I began to feel compassion even for the unwelcome bugs creeping around in my house. It has probably deepened me, or I hope it has. Sinking more and more into the love of God is the point, anyway. Also, as any parent of small children knows (or any caretaker, really), I am more aware than ever that I am not my own. My wife especially feels this with a newborn in the house. Yet, along with the withdrawal of energy, time, and attention comes great beauty, joy, purity, and light. I believe the primordial energy behind all art, the purifying force underneath all artistic ambitions, is the beatific vision of God. It sings to us and draws us through life’s great underground river of beauty, joy, purity, and light. I’ve long asked God to give me more, not less, proximity to it. He answered my prayers by giving me two little girls to father. They don’t only make me better; they help me see God. I trust that is helping me become the artist and Christian God intends.