They worship with hands in the air.
Cel phones are tucked away and texts go unanswered. And they have found their way to the front rows of our church and they lean forward and they listen and take notes. And I hear their Jeeps and their cars leaving with the sounds of God lyrics echoing through the parking lot.
And I’ve heard the whispers in the halls from adults who watch in wonder. These young people who have yet to meet mortgages and responsibility and eight-hour jobs they don’t love. But they have also yet to water down the gospel, to fit it into their likeness, to relax in the Christianity of comfort. They have an urgency to take it in and send it out.
And I watch in teary eyed wonder. Not to see how long it will last but to eavesdrop on their enthusiasm. And their scratched surrendered hearts are poured out for all to see.
And I wait, wondering what God will possibly do next.