There's a book in merchandise area of the Convention Center here, where almost 3,000 Christian youth workers are gathered for a conference.

It's called "Questions You Can't Ask Your Mama About Sex," and its cover depicts a brown paper bag to evoke secretiveness.

You expect vulgar truths about doing the dirty. It appears R-rated, or at least PG-13. But take a peek inside, and you can hear the G-rated sound of angels singing.

"Am I still a virgin if I've given my boyfriend oral sex?" the book asks.

The answer: "One cannot participate in oral sex outside of marriage and still be pure."

Christianity has a fragile relationship with contemporary culture, with hip religious materials uncomfortably straddling innocence and intrigue, purity and progress.

A-MAZE-ING GRACE

It was clear at the 2006 National Youth Ministers' Convention, hosted in December by San Diego-based Youth Specialties, that religion and pop culture might be cuddling up a little too close for some people's comfort.

"I think a lot of our youth ministry approaches have been really misguided," Youth Specialties president Mark Oestreicher said. "We've been more about putting on a nifty show and entertaining kids."

Some are itching to put aside the fun and get back to basics.

Beyond the shelves and shelves of books, DVDs, surfer- and skater-inspired clothing and Christian rock music; beyond the room full of ministers learning rowdy youth-group games; beyond all that phat, faithful fun, was a quiet room called the Labyrinth.

There, participants walked, shoes off, through a series of 11 stops along a "prayer path." They wore MP3 players and followed a maze mapped with green duct tape in a dimly lit room with candles and peaceful music.

The point was an inward, meditative journey where participants stop at different stations, each dedicated to a specific spiritual quest.

At the "Noise" site, you sit on pillows and watch sound waves on a television, with the faint buzz of traffic, radio and other everyday sound pollution humming through your headphones. The narrator asks you to realize how much focus it takes to find a silent space for thought.

At the "Letting Go" station, you drop stones into giant trash bins full of water, which represents releasing your concerns. The water, you're told, symbolizes God's lap.

DO UNTO OTHERS

In addition to the Labyrinth, there were undercurrents of a stark social justice movement rippling beneath the otherwise super-duper cheerful, hug-happy faith fest. Some are making an effort not to take comfort for granted.

"Our convenience is someone else's poverty," said Justin Williams, 29, who was passing out free samples of Memphis-based Ugly Mug Coffee, a fair-trade company that promotes ministering to coffee farming communities.

Visitors walked through the One Life Experience, where they learned about the lives of orphans and widows in Africa suffering from HIV/AIDS.

Event speaker Shane Claiborne, 31, currently lives alongside homeless people in a Christian community he helped found in Philadelphia called The Simple Way. He spent time with Mother Theresa in Calcutta, and traveled to Iraq as a Christian peacemaker.

He said he was "longing for a church that's closer to the poor, that's more distant from the drums of war."

It's hard to believe the simpler ways of Claiborne and others come from the same religious roots as followers who borrow from pop-culture to create rock music, silkscreen T-shirts or shoot 'em up, post-Apocalyptic video games like "Left Behind: Eternal Forces."

Is religion still pure if you're having a raucous good time? Maybe that's a question for your Mama.

Hillary Rhodes is an asap staff reporter in New York.

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