Two weeks left

I am preparing for camp checkout. All the kids are packing their sleeping bags, sweeping their cabins, and saying goodbye. I'm here resting in the quiet that seems to only last for a moment (as I type this, my office is about to be vacuumed.) This week has been better - last week was mission week and it required every ounce of my energy just to survive.

This week consisted of about thirty campers. I was able to learn everyone’s name by Tuesday and develop relationships with them as the week progressed. Several children have adopted me as their “mommy” which I find humorous but enjoyable. They’re so excited to hug me, even my tough kids like Zion and Tre who spend the rest of their energy throwing rocks at each other. It’s been a good week.

It’s hard to describe how yesterday felt in comparison to the rest of camp. I received some negative feedback from a group last week that left me angry. Their words were spiteful and left me calling everyone I knew so I could vent. That’s all I really wish to say on that note.

Against that background, I prepared for evening worship. One of the counselors was leading the talk. This girl has been in my life since my first summer as program director, and through God, she has played a part in my spiritual journey. Her message was so powerful and poignant; I had to fight back tears. It was about placing baggage at the foot of the cross – it was more a dramatic interpretation than a sermon – but with the heavy words laying on my heart from earlier that afternoon, it was just what I needed to hear. The service ended with each person naming the burden that kept them from freedom in Christ and tacking it to our cross. We later burned these papers in the camp fire and sang in the darkness. After our final song, the worship leaders stayed around and played a couple more songs. It was fantastic to sing “Lean On Me” acapella, while hugging the campers and dancing around the fire. It was a worship service unlike any I’d participated in before. It was amazing.

God is so good.

This morning I was reminded again of how God’s grace can wash away even the most painful and stressful days. Two hours of worship could allow me to forget how inadequate someone else’s words made me feel and remind me why I’m really here. I’m hoping that the last two weeks of camp will be a beautiful reminder of why I’m even in Divinity School or even why I decided to work at camp. I pray that this isn’t the only worship service in the world that makes me feel this alive.