I thought I had gotten away with it. It was 9a.m., and the service was to start at 10:30. I woke up early to do my hair and find the perfect outfit. I was doing my makeup when the phone rang. My mom answered, said a few “Uh huhs” and “Oh, reallys,” and then hung up.

She walked into the bathroom and asked, “So, when were you going to tell us you were getting baptized today?”

I grew up in a family that didn’t go to church. I found my way to Sunday School every week. My dad would drop me off and consider it free
babysitting.

On the day the phone rang, I was 14, a Christian, and the church was my second family. I was going to be baptized that Sunday morning, and I hadn’t told my parents. They hadn’t been to church in all my life, so why would they go now? I didn’t want them to go just because I was going to be on stage. They came anyway.

They were proud. And it was weird.

In the course of the next four years, my parents came to church whenever I was reading Scripture, playing my harmonica or performing in a
skit.

Now, I’m a youth pastor. One year ago, we started a service that is led by youth but for everyone of all ages. It’s our hub for families. We hope families will come with their teens; better yet, we hope they come and support their teens who are singing, playing instruments, reading Scripture, performing in skits, delivering the message and serving communion.

That call on the morning I was being baptized was from my youth pastor. She was doing family ministry. She invited my parents to be a part of a moment when I would be on stage. She talked to my parents and connected with them every time they came. Sometimes, I think my youth pastor would stick me on stage simply to give my parents an excuse to come to church.

As youth pastors, we don’t often think about how to get parents in the doors; for the most part, most parents already are there. However, we cannot forget the few who have little or no involvement. Family ministry includes them.

Recently, a new freshmen joined our worship team. He’s had a tough few years, as his parents finalized a nasty hurtful divorce. I hadn’t seen the
father at church in awhile; but I noticed that every time the teen was playing in the band, the dad would be there, standing proud, smiling and somehow allowing God’s truths to seep in a bit.

I’m not suggesting that we use our students to get to their parents, but I am wondering how we allow for opportunities to get our parents in the door,
besides the once-a-year parent meeting, which hardly anyone attends anyway.