Why Are Christians So Mad About Skillet Screaming “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”?

Christian rock powerhouse Skillet has dropped a surprise single that’s igniting both praise and passionate debate: a thunderous, heavy-metal rendition of the ancient hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”

Released on November 15, 2025, the track transforms the 12th-century Latin carol, long a staple of somber, candlelit Christmas Eve services, into a visceral cry of longing for the Savior’s arrival. With pounding drums, searing guitars, and lead singer John L. Cooper’s raw vocals channeling the despair of exile and the defiant hope of redemption, it’s unmistakably Skillet: unapologetically bold, theologically deep, and designed to pierce the soul like a sword.

But not everyone is singing along, within hours of its debut, the song sparked a firestorm in Reformed circles with critics decrying it as “desecration,” arguing that the hymn’s medieval gravity demands a hushed, orchestral reverence unfit for electric distortion and headbanging riffs.

One viral post lamented that a band “that looks like this” would dare to “desecrate a traditional and ancient Christmas song,” implying Skillet’s aesthetic somehow disqualifies them from touching sacred ground. Others joined the chorus, warning that such “rock-ified” worship risks trivializing the Incarnation, turning the mystery of God-with-us into mere entertainment.

This is a familiar refrain in evangelical debates: the tension between guarding holy traditions and embracing the fresh winds of the Spirit.

Yet amid the backlash, a chorus of voices from the heart of conservative Christianity is rising in defense, not just of the song, but of the very freedom we have in Christ to proclaim His good news in every key and genre.

Leading the charge are influential women like Allie Beth Stuckey and Megan Basham, whose thoughtful pushback reminds us that division over musical taste is a distraction from the unity we share in the gospel.

The Heart of the Hymn: Despair Meets Deliverance

To understand the uproar, it’s worth revisiting the lyrics that have sustained weary souls for centuries. “O come, O come, Emmanuel, / And ransom captive Israel, / That mourns in lonely exile here, / Until the Son of God appear.” Penned in the shadows of the Middle Ages, this Advent anthem captures the ache of a world groaning under sin’s curse, a world crying out for the promised Seed to crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15).

In Skillet’s hands, this hymn becomes a battle cry. Cooper is known for his outspoken defense of biblical truth in a culture of compromise, layers in electronic pulses and orchestral swells that evoke the chaos of a broken cosmos yielding to the King’s arrival.

For anyone listening, Reformed or otherwise, this song is a reminder that the baby in the manger grows into the warrior who conquers death. As Skillet’s drummer and vocalist Jen Ledger tweeted, quoting John 1:5, the song is “a powerful reminder of the hope that breaks through all darkness! ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’”

Voices of Grace: Stuckey, Basham, and the Call to Unity

Enter Allie Beth Stuckey, host of the Relatable podcast and a beacon for biblically grounded conservatism, she jumped on the band wagon (no pun intended), to promote the new rendition of the song, saying: “Love the good news of Christmas proclaimed across all genres! For the people complaining about this, I’ll let you in on a secret: you don’t have to listen to it! You can still listen to your hymns! I promise your worship leader won’t be leading you in this rendition at Christmas Eve service.

Everything will be ok! Personally I think it’s really cool. Great work @johnlcooper!”

Stuckey’s response is a masterclass in gospel-centered charity, not only did she affirm artistic liberty but she gently rebuked the gatekeeping, reminding us that the Kingdom advances not through stylistic purity tests, but through hearts surrendered to Christ.

In a fractured online world, her words model 1 Corinthians 12’s beautiful diversity: the body of Christ isn’t a monolith of matching hymnals, but a symphony of gifts. Additionally, in no way are hymns more holy than other genres, for that is exactly what hymnals are – a genre.

Joining Stuckey was Megan Basham, the New York Times bestselling author and Daily Wire journalist whose book Shepherds for Sale. A longtime admirer of Skillet, Basham has long championed music that stirs the soul without diluting doctrine.
These women aren’t outliers. Podcaster Jon Harris, host of Conversations That Matter, called the track “totally excellent,” clarifying it’s not for corporate worship but a “solitary performance” that captures the hymn’s raw grief. Ginna Cross, co-executive director of Alliance Family Services, urged against “petty haters,” tweeting that God equips His people differently and we must stop “shooting at our own.”

Even in the backlash, fans like James Black doubled down: “I’m gonna jam out… even harder now that y’all are yelling about it.”

A Christian Call: Beyond the Noise to the Newborn King

From a Christian vantage, this dust-up is less about decibels and more about discernment. Yes, we must test every spirit (1 John 4:1), ensuring our art glorifies God and edifies the saints. Skillet passes with flying colors: Their catalog, from “Monster” to “Surviving the Game,” wrestles with sin’s tyranny and Christ’s victory, winning souls in arenas where hymns rarely tread. John Cooper’s public stands against cultural drift only amplify their witness.

So the real controversy here isn’t the exposure of Skillet’s detraction from truth, but rather, it’s exposed people’s hearts. When we clutch traditions like idols, we risk the Pharisaical error Jesus condemned; straining at gnats while swallowing camels (Matthew 23:24).

Music, like all creation, is a canvas for the Creator. David danced before the Ark with abandon (2 Samuel 6:14); the seraphim thunder “Holy, holy, holy” in Revelation 4. Why then police the volume on our praise?

This Advent, let Skillet’s roar remind us: The coming King shatters chains not with whispers alone, but with the full-throated triumph of resurrection power. As Stuckey wisely notes, you don’t have to crank it up, but if it draws one more heart to the manger, to the cross, to the empty tomb, then crank it!

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