I’m waiting for my daughter, standing in the back of her youth group, watching how these young people are interacting. The music is a touch louder than I might prefer. The speaker and the singers scream a bit more than I’m used to. My bee girl is sitting by herself, and the worried dad in me hopes she hasn’t been left alone the whole night.
The service is wrapping up, they’re all singing one more song. Some friends join my daughter, and everyone is called to the front.
The speaker offers a simple invitation to relationship and life in Christ. A couple hands shoot up. Cheers break out. Applause echoes through the room.
The realist in me knows that so many youth from my generation turned away from their faith as young adults.
Worried dad hopes my daughter doesn’t join their ranks.
The cynic hopes those raised hands are sincere.
But eyes of faith picture angels rejoicing as lost sheep are found.
And worried dad remembers the Father’s arms wrapping around this prodigal son when i wandered off years ago.
So i look at my daughter in the crowd, and I know it’s going to be all right.