He was a hypocrite for being here. But he had already gone so far as to make the drive. Even so, after grumbling and refusing the money for Erin’s registration, he now found himself $35 poorer for purchasing a measly day ticket to be here. And after telling her that she would need to get the money for this conference on her own. I feel pretty low… did that lowness drive me here, or something else?
He didn’t know where Erin had gotten the full amount in just over three months before the conference. She was sixteen, she baby-sat when she didn’t have tests to study for, and her college fund had been off limits. He’d been surprised when she hadn’t fought him on that. Rather; ”Ok, Dad. Those are your rules. I’ll pray for the money in another way.”
Her phrasing of that sentence had appeared off, but her demeanor much more so. Erin had been a tantrum child since she had discovered a will of her own. Arguing and biting for her way or her say. He was proud of this, of sorts. Though lately, he had been watching it fade away. Except for the fire in her eyes; it was there still, and it burned bright. Erin had bluish-gray eyes that he swore could turn red like tempered stone with she got going. Maybe that had contributed to how she had gotten the money.
No sense in prolonging it any farther. He got out of the car, glared up into the sun, and starting walking up the sidewalk. He clicked the lock mechanism and the car beeped behind him. It sounded lonely, though there was no shortage of cars in the lot. Had they paid $35 to be here as well? Or had they been here for the entire week? That would cost them, for sure.
He needed to be honest though. There were worse expenses then this teenage retreat that Erin had been so persistent about. Cars and college, to name the obvious few. More so, it was the nature of the retreat that had him worried. It was a nationwide event for grace brethren churches. And, apparently, Erin had been attending youth services at the one in their hometown for a while now. To be frank, it beat wildly against the agnostic views he was quick to uphold in his house.
“Are you asking me not to go Dad, or are you telling me?” Erin had asked him when he’d first learned of her interest in going. What could he say? He believed that the world, being made of people and nothing more, would teach his children the good and the bad of it. This would instill in them firm, realistic perceptions of others and themselves.
He heard the music while still two dorms back from the field house. These events, he was finding, were held on college campuses that were abandoned for the summer. The tall building shock waved the vibrations of sound out beyond the walls, muffled and yet not. He cringed, never a huge fan of loud music. It was hardly a parent thing; he just wanted to keep his eardrums intact. He trotted closer in the sticky July humidity, only to find little relief inside. He was met with a multi-colored crowd of backs, all pressed in toward the massive black and silver stage that spanned the far end of the indoor track.
Every chain will break as broken hearts declare His praise.
Noise emitted from this stage in the same shock waves he had heard outside. It pounded the walls, slammed the roof, wanting out. Lights of red, purple, blue and green swiped the rows of ecstatic kids. They circled overhead and blinded him every five seconds. He was keeping to the edge of this conjoined mass, but could still smell the close-knit heat and hype of collected youth. As he moved closer to the stage, he saw them growing tighter and deeper with every inch.
Who can stop the Lord Almighty.
Their voices were singing along as the chorus hit. A wave of the same words, front to back. Their energy was undeniable. Adults, sitting or standing on the sidelines, held smiled of equal energy on their faces. It had him wondering… what did Erin look like in this madness? What had they enticed to her, to get her running with them?
“We live this life because there’s nothing else to it.” He had said so many times. “Any hopes and dreams you have are only born out of solid work.”
He pictured the additional lecture he was gearing for her. Hard work and rational decisions. Not blind faith, Erin. Faith starts with an ‘f’ because it’s folly. There may not be a point, but what’s the point in screwing up what you have?
In that moment, he glimpsed onto the stage. He was almost to the front now, to the far left of the lead singer. Amplifiers blocked the corners and the space for the band swam with the rapid sweeps of the lights. And, there behind the lead singer, he saw Erin playing her bass guitar.
The God who comes to save is here to set the captives free.
Her feet pounded with the chords that she was throwing her entire arms into. In the glimmers of light passing over her, he caught the sweat on her skin, beneath her shirt, and matting her hair to her neck. There was a smile on his lips before he could help it. He had gotten her that guitar, watched her practice with it week upon a week. That’s what she needs to be believing in! Hard work, commitment, independence…
“Our God is the Lion,” the crowd proclaimed, the music reaching a moment of stillness. “The Lion of Judah!”
He was startled then when Erin’s hands stopped strumming. Her head dropped, chin to chest, right hand raised in the air. Stretching, searching… for what?
He’s roaring in power and fighting our battles.
Erin’s head stayed down, swaying and hidden in her sweaty, clumped hair. She almost looked dead. He banished the thought, then wondered if she was, in fact, dehydrated.
“And every knee will bow before Him!” the crowd went on singing.
In her own exclamation, Erin’s head thrust up, joining her hand in its reach. The lights had calmed their flailing, bringing some focus to her face. He was shocked to find that it wasn’t just sweat covering her cheeks, but tears shining over them. Erin’s cheeks were red with them, her eyes closed, and lips moving.
“The Lamb who was slain…” so the song continued, the music picking back up. Erin hesitated, staying as she was. Like she didn’t want to break from her stance.
He stared at this portrait of his child. She looked so… exposed… fragile. Yet, unashamed. There were volumes there he couldn’t name and this frightened him. He often complimented himself on being a parent who knew his children. Matched them in openness, honesty… but this. He had never seen Erin like this. Another breathless moment, and she lowered her hand. Flawless on the wires, she jumped back into the song. But the previous image was sticking to him now. Her hand, her tears, her face…
Was that his daughter now?
Or was she someone else’s?
He had barely recognized the one on stage.
“And every knee will bow before the Lion and the Lamb.”
THE END
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