Come to me, little children

The lightening raced through the stained glass windows of First United Methodist Church Eunice as if there was nothing in its way.

The thunder boomed like a bass drum, shaking the windows as I watched. Water poured outside from heaven itself, heavy and thick and loud. We were in the midst of some heavy stuff on Wednesday night.

But there they were: 39 youth (nine years of age to 14 or so) who had somehow, someway made their way to the church as they do every Wednesday night. I had debated all afternoon about cancelling what we call Club 316 (you do the math on that), because the weather forecasts were as dire as they get without hurricane force winds and such.

But I never could figure how we could get everyone in the know, so I simply figured we, what amounts to staff, would go and when no one came, then we'd go home through the torrential rains so uncommon for January.

Huh. What do I know?

This thing, whatever it is, this 316 phenom, has been happening for about a year and a half. Youth, oh heck I still call them kids, come each Wednesday night for all sorts of reasons, from all sorts of churches, from all sorts of backgrounds, from all sorts of races, from all sorts of ... you get the idea.

The only thing that truly connects them is, well, each other. Many have come who have no other place to be on a Wednesday at 6 p.m. In fact, with drama that we're teaching, many get there at 5.

The church, led by Youth Leader Dwight Jodon, teaches them, plays with them, feeds them each week. They've learned the equivalent of a religion class each week, gone on a mission trip for hurricane cleanup, gone on an overnight retreat, worked, played, played some more and still they keep coming. No one beats them over the head with the Gospel, as truthfully I was at their age, but instead offers them reasonable thoughts about what and who God is for them.

We tell them, scripturally, they are God's masterpiece, and that they are as perfect as persons can be when they hold onto the love of their creator. That message would be a good one to pass along to adults in this country as well, as we do what these kids never do, which is to be darn sure we're right all the time.

There has been as many as 62 there  on a Wednesday night, and let me make sure you understand, they're not 62 youth from FUMC-Eunice. There aren't 62 youth who regularly attend FUMC-Eunice.

But like life itself, they wander in, and some stay and some leave and that's the way the Gospel is passed along. They see adults who care in a way maybe some haven't seen adults care in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

I can brag about this event, this staff, because it started long before I arrived, a blessed pastor who still is amazed that this goes on. I've simply grabbed a handle on the bus and held on as great love is shown.

It seems to me that through this all, this is a bit of a look at what Jesus meant for the world to be. These kids don't all like each other, I suspect. They don't all get along perfectly. They've met their share of bullies in time.They've known loss, divorce, pain.

But on Wednesday nights, for an hour-and-a-half, things are good and right with the world.

Oh, they're loud, their rambunctious, they're all the things their age groups can be.

But mostly, they are God's children. That's good enough for everyone.

Anyone from anywhere is welcome with one condition. Come with a smile and leave with one. That's the essence of the Gospel, isn't it?