There are strobe lights and fog machines, skits and talent contests, rope courses and altar calls and games. Hundreds of teenagers bounce to the throbbing pulse of theologically questionable worship songs while the back-row boys look on. Ankles will be broken. Romances will be kindled. T-shirts will be shot from cannons. At some point, a guy wearing skinny jeans and a dozen rubber wristbands will jump on the stage and tell everyone in the audience to find someone they don’t know and give them a giant Jesus-hug.
