“Where have all the young people gone?”
The pastors and parents and denominational leaders wondered and waited and researched.
But there they were, a crowd of twenty- and thirty-somethings, two hundred strong, streaming into the old church building. They arrived early, clutching their books, and fought for the front seats. They listened to stories and pondered textual insights. They wrote down words of their true belovedness that they vulnerably shared with the strangers next to them. They practiced an ancient spiritual discipline and received a parting blessing and closed with a song. They even gave money.
There was joy, and sadness was welcomed too.
No one wanted to leave, so the congregation clustered in small groups around the sanctuary, basking in the afterglow of the transcendent and transformative experience.
On our way out the door, we walked past the merch table. The stickers and shirts featured a logo with round spectacles and the words Harry Potter and the Sacred Text.
My 8 year-old daughter, clutching her book, turned to me and asked:
“Was that church?”
Also published on Medium.