I stood to collect the songbooks after we had finished singing a hymn. My friend pulled out her pen, ready to take the prayer requests. These were our girls. Our girls! They dressed alike—navy-blue scrubs and orange Crocs, courtesy of our local jail. But their personalities, their stage of growth, their walk with God, were all unique.
A voice broke into my thoughts. “My name is Crystal,” she said.
I smiled at her. “I’m so glad you’re here tonight. Are you new? I don’t remember seeing you before.”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve never come before. I don’t have any use for God!”
Her vehemence startled me. Most …