Church Camp

We were sitting at the dining room table; my mom, dad, sister, grandmother, even my high school boyfriend was there. So, it's odd that I decided to bring up church camp.

I was a senior in high school and had about 5 summers of church camp under my belt. Of those, I could remember one being fun. This coming summer wouldn't be. It was just a week, but still. I didn't really want to spend a precious week of my summer vacation with people I didn't fit in with.

So, I should have chosen a better time to say, “I don't think I want to go to church camp this summer.” My sweet grandmother said, “You need to go your senior year.” And, that was the end of it. No one asked me later if I really didn't want to go. No one wanted me to explain why I might not want to be there. It was just assumed that I would go. And, I don't remember pushing the issue or bringing it up again.

I love Hargis, where we went to camp. I feel particularly close to God there and it's one of the most beautiful places on earth; the lake, the cross on the mountaintop, the winding road that seems to never end leading into the camp. If I could have just been there alone, or with my friends from school, it would have been perfect. But, I went with people I hardly knew, faces vaguely familiar from years past, a couple of friends from my home church, but no one I was particularly close to.

 

Photo from Hargis Christian Retreat Facebook Page

Most people attended with a group. They “belonged” simply because they were part of a circle within the larger group of campers. I didn't feel that. Even the years that another kid or two came from Lanett First Christian with me, I didn't feel any confidence and not much closeness.

All those other campers were less than friendly. No one was outwardly mean, they just had jokes they all knew and friends they all had in common. They watched the same TV shows and listened to the same music. Their pastors and youth pastors accompanied them the week of camp as counselors and they talked about what was going on back home. They didn't reach out to include others. They were content in their own little group.

This wasn't a promising beginning for someone who would eventually be a camp counselor. But, I was, repeatedly, and I loved it. Then, I WAS part of a group, the counselor group. I fit in. I felt valued and important.

At that point, I was very concerned with making sure all the campers felt included. I wanted them to have fun. I wanted them to want to come back. I wonder if they did.

My sister and I were counselors together for two summers. That was really special. We still laugh about the poor little boy who fell out of his canoe (or was tipped out) in just 2 feet of water. He had a life vest on and was holding on to his canoe. But, just a few yards from shore, he was terrified. We came running to his aid when we heard a voice ring out, “Help me sweet Jesus!” After trying to get his attention to tell him to just stand up, my sister and I both had to catch our breath from laughing so hard. We may have collapsed on the dock for a while listening to his continuing pleas and crying with laughter. He was perfectly all right. Wonder if he ever went back to camp?

For years I craved a “family camp” experience for my little family and finally got it when we lived in Nebraska.

Victory Road Evangelical Free Church had a longstanding tradition of escaping to a camp the weekend after school started. It was wonderful. Water, a huge blob thing that sent tiny people hurtling into the air then plunging into the lake, an open air church service Sunday morning, the guys making breakfast and lots of time for talking and games. It was low key, relaxing and sweet. I loved that. I was with friends.

It's funny, isn't it, that we search for an ideal. In my case, I'm willing to get knocked down then head back in for round 2 because I'm convinced that it will be better next time. Though camp wasn't ideal when I was in junior high or high school, I still had this inkling that it could be. I guess that's why I went back as a counselor more than once. It's like I was saying to the world, “Come on y'all. We can do better than this!”

Truth be told, I still do this. I still ache when someone says they feel like they don't belong. My first reaction is to think, “That's not right. We can fix this. Who do I need to call? What do I need to do? Come on, y'all. We can do better than this!”

I guess we all want to belong, to fit in. But, we'll never be completely satisfied this side of Heaven, will we? There will always be that spot in us that's sightly out of step, slightly homesick, slightly lonely. 

The Fun Year At Camp

Last year during Lent I intentionally listened to Keep Making Me by Sidewalk Prophets every day. 40 days in a row. It was my prayer, my offering, my desire to belong wholly to the Lord. The last verse of the song goes like this:

Make me lonely
So I can be Yours
‘Til I want no one
More than You, Lord
‘Cause in the darkness
I know You will hold me
Make me lonely

I didn't want to pray that. I didn't really even want to think about it. One day during that Lent, I confessed this to my kids. “I don't want God to make me lonely. That's hard. I don't think I'm “there”.” My wise son, Davis, said, “Yeah, but that's how it's supposed to be.” We're supposed to want no one more than God. And, at some point, we're supposed to be mature enough to ask God to help us get there, no matter what it takes.

I'm not that mature yet. It still hurts to think about those lonely church camp weeks. It still hurts when I think of others hurting too.

That last week of church camp, just after a triumphant graduation from high school, was still lonely. I found a fairly easy place with some girls from another church who didn't quite fit in either. But, I can't remember one of their names. Not one. And, I'm sure they don't remember my name either.

Am I glad I went? I guess. I like to complete stuff, to not give up. And, I think it made me a better counselor, more empathetic. But, what I really want for myself and for you is more of those Nebraska Family Camp weekends and less of those lonely high school church camp times. More of Heaven, less of earth.

I'm too idealistic, I know, I know.  But, I'll keep dusting myself off and heading back into the ring to fight for it. I'll be a bit banged up, but it's what I was made to do.

Come on y'all. We can do better than this!