Yeh, I don't "get" it.
'Christian punk'. It's like you hear something giggling in your outside apartment dumpster late at night so you go out to look and – to your unutterable horror – up pops a zombie fox wearing a pork pie hat and voodoo necklace made out of boiled lamb skulls and smoking an untipped Marlboro and it looks at you and says, in an obviously fake limey accent – ~"Alright, mate, 'ow's it goin'?"
It's just wrong. And really scary. And against God. Christians do not need to be punk rock. Or have sex. And nor do you. Oh dear. I think I've just realized what hell is. It's an endless Saturday afternoon spent in a Christian lingerie store - with Christian punk rock playing quietly over the PA.