Jars of Clay eased into the mainstream before it was well-known that its members were born-again Christians, that the band's name was taken from St. Paul's Second Letter to the Corinthians or that its biggest hit, "Flood," was based on the biblical story of Noah's ark.

In the pop market, being labeled a Christian band is usually a difficult hurdle to overcome. It's not that religion and rock are uneasy soulmates; it's more that Christian rock has a reputation for inferior quality and for duplicating whatever mainstream styles are in vogue.

But through clever marketing that downplayed Jars of Clay's evangelical leanings to concentrate on the music, the band's 1995 self-titled debut album went platinum and garnered a Grammy nomination for best "rock gospel" album and a Billboard Music Video A ward.

Now, the four-man band from Nashville is back with a new album, "Much Afraid," and is expected to draw a mixed crowd of mainstream and Christian rock fans Friday to Northrop Auditorium.

"We grew up in the church and were taught at an early age what we believe is our destitute condition with God," said guitarist Stephen Mason, 22. "That permeates every aspect of our writing because that's our experience. Just like, maybe, Melissa Ethridge would write about homosexuality because that's her experience.

"Everybody has a gospel."

Identity crisis

But the Christian market, which gave birth to Jars of Clay, was infuriated after the band's success led the group to cancel church concerts to play in bars and clubs. An evangelical chat room on the Internet asked, "If Jars of Clay were really Christian, would they be singing in homosexual bars?"

"You can't win sometimes with the Christian market," said Rendy Lovelady, the group's manager. "You're supposed to take the gospel to the world, but when you're successful at it, they accuse you of selling out. Fans can either have beer or Bibles, but not both. Well, we're breaking the rules without compromising our faith."

As the band's popularity grew, it found itself in the unusual position of having to explain its faith to general audiences and defend its faith to Christians. Some mainstream radio stations suddenly felt uneasy about putting born-again rockers on the air; some Christian retailers pulled Jars of Clay products off their shelves.

To defuse the controversy, band members bared their souls in several Christian magazines, which helped to sway that audience to their side. They also dismissed the mainstream rock group The Samples from a tour earlier this year after the band used profani ty and offensive comments on stage.

"The best way to handle criticism is to really know who you are," said Jars of Clay guitarist Matt Odmark, 23. "The reality of our business is that if you don't know who you are, there's a long line of people waiting to tell you."

Success came easily

Four years ago, three of the band's members were music majors at a small Methodist college in Illinois, recording songs they'd written as a class requirement. On a lark, they sent a demo to a national band contest sponsored by the Gospel Music Association , which they won over 200 other groups.

After that, Christian record companies were tying up their dormitory phones to court them. The band cut a deal, cut a record and soon had a hit album, becoming one of the few Christian bands ever to receive MTV and VH1 air play.

Trained as classical musicians, they developed a popular sound by fusing acoustic guitars with cellos, violins and mandolins. That mixture is still evident on the new album, as are the well-crafted lyrics, and the first cut, "Crazy Times" is inching its w ay up the charts.

It has been a fast ride for a group that had performed fewer than a dozen times, mostly at coffeehouses and open-mike nights, before signing a record deal in 1993.

"It's been trial by fire," said Mason. "Dan Haseltine hadn't sung a lick before this. But being on the road for two years has taught us a lot about performing live. If you mess up, you just keep going."

Lovelady, the band's manager, said the guys were so naive about performing that he spent countless hours videotaping their act and going over replays with them, much like the coach of a football team.

"They were green, man, and the fast success meant a lot of hard work for them," he said. "They were extremely talented musicians, obsessed with their art, but they didn't know the structure of the biz or how to put a show together. It came out of birth pangs."

Carving a path

Industry watchers are watching whether Jars of Clay can maintain its mainstream appeal without losing its mass Christian base. Last month, "Much Afraid" made its debut at No. 8 on Billboard charts, largely on the strength of its Christian fans, and it rec ently was certified gold, having sold 500,000 copies.

Rey Roldan, spokesman for Silvertone Records, the group's mainstream distributor, said Jars of Clay's second album has been tougher to market because of the stigma attached to Christian bands. But slowly, he said, mainstream radio stations are being convinced that this isn't "just a good Christian band, but a good band."

In the Twin Cities, Zone 105 radio programmer John Lassman seemed ill-at-ease when asked about the group's new single, which airs regularly on the station.

"I would never have known that it's a Christian band," Lassman said. "We don't play them because of their message. We play them because their song is popular. It gets lots of requests. Most people aren't aware they are Christian. It's not like they're out there thumping Bibles."

Indeed, Jars of Clay isn't a Bible-waving, hellfire-preaching Jimmy Swaggart kind of act. Although the band writes songs about its faith, it's not always obvious because the lyrics are subtle. The new album, for instance, is named for a character in a Chr istian book that's an allegory about the process of faith.

"There isn't a hidden agenda," said Robert Beeson, who heads Essential Records, the band's Christian label. "They simply want to be appreciated for making good music and being good people."

Goodness is something band members apparently work at, sometimes bringing a pastor on the road. Back home, they meet with a Christian "accountability group" to help them discern the godly way of handling fame, awards and money.

"We're trying to be a bridge between church and society," said keyboardist Charlie Lowell, 23. "Maybe we can soften the ground."