I marvel at the wisdom in that, especially when the only thing I can recall about my first photo shoot was how stoked I was to get free new clothes. I remember being so profoundly grateful that I wasn't schlepping burgers and fries anymore. I probably would have happily worn a chicken suit.

As we wrap up our conversation, she shares that she is "fasting" makeup right now when she's not on stage ... as in, not wearing any. She felt like it was playing too big a role in her life. I cringe at the thought. She explains, "If I'm speaking about image and I always look perfect, what is that saying? What does that tell our audience?"

That's the question that keeps nagging at me ... What does it tell our audience?

Of all the artists I've spoken with, there is no one more familiar with tension between faith and art than Amy Grant. As I dial her number, I wonder if she ever gets tired of being asked for the "seasoned veteran" perspective. Early in our conversation I marvel at how she has managed to escape being jaded. Instead, she thoughtfully reminisces about how the roles of image, beauty and authenticity have played themselves out since she signed a record deal as a 15-year-old. "I remember when I was in high school feeling very gawky and my mom saying, 'Just be patient. The most beautiful years of a woman's life are between 35 and 45 ... just give yourself some time because what matters to you now will not matter then.' And she was right."

Amy's first photo shoot was really just a friend taking some pictures of her after school. "When I signed my first contract, I was deep in the throes of acne. I changed out of my (school) uniform and put on ... I think it was like a blue jean jumper with a red and white checked shirt, and he took some pictures and that was it. No hair, no makeup."

Things are a little different today. "I mean, I grew up in an era where it was Janis Joplin, Mama Cass and Carole King. The people that were really the front-runners were not beauty queens -- they were just good. Music is a totally different thing now ... it can't be just about music. It has to be young and beautiful, and I think that's really sad. I think because I've been around so much airbrushing, I never read an article about anybody in the paper -- positive or negative -- and believe it. I never see a picture of anyone and say, 'that's how they really look,' because it's all smoke and mirrors. The whole lot."

Reflecting on a song by Sting called "The Soul Cages" Amy adds, "For awhile that's how I referred to my body. This is not really me; it's just my soul cage." Then she references some beauty advice written by Audrey Hepburn decades ago and taped above her kitchen window. It reads like a passage from Proverbs:

"For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair, let a child run his or

her fingers through it once a day.