I was sitting in church the other day, listening to the worship music, when something occurred to me. That particular song had a sense of dissonance and clash that instantly turned the heart over, reminding me what it feels like to hurt and bleed and be in pain. But a gentle melody threaded its way through, giving a strand of hope within the dark. That song was such a picture of life. A glimpse of God’s story within our world.

The power of music, of art in all its forms. . . I think it is the rhyme and rhythm within the wild ache and clash of sound that draws us. The sense within the senselessness, the plot and story and balance of an artistic piece, the steady beat amidst all the bloodshed of life.

When there is dissonance in a song, I feel the reality of it. The terrible realness of all that surrounds us. But as the music flows together into something that makes sense, hope rises within me. It is the same for story. So much opposition is thrown up against the main character that the reader is sure life will squelch him in an arbitrary wash of senseless trouble and toil. But then there is that glimmer, that “for such a time as this” moment. The reader and the hero both realize that life is not a senseless tangle of horror. That they are where they stand for a reason. When a story finally wraps up, with all the threads untangled and the hero facing down the horror of his situation and becoming more than what he was before, it thrills the heart.

For isn’t that the ache in every heart? The longing to matter. Sometimes this world looks like a terrible mass of writhing destruction. War, enslavement, torture, destruction, tears. There are so many examples in the news and within the angry depths of our very own hearts that I shudder. And yet . . . I look outside and see a thick curtain and snow, drifting down in gentle perfection. Each flake a delicate work of art, unique and yet the same. Trees stretch out their limbs, soaking in the sun’s power and purifying the air around us. My children learn and grow, taller and more complicated every day. People change and forgive and move on to become more than anyone thought they could become. In real life, not just in the stories. 

There is a thread of reason within the terrible weight of darkness. There is God. Creator, Conqueror, Father, Friend. One who molds and makes the sensible order that flows all around us. One who chose to step down into our chaos and carve out a path to freedom. 

Isaiah 9:2–“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.”

Isn’t this why the heart lifts when we hear a song, gaze upon a powerful painting, or fall into the pages of a book? The clash and bruising of reality in art pulls you forward, but the thread of hope in that one elegant strand of order frees the heart and makes us hope. We hope that we too are more than we appear, that there is a happy ending somewhere through the darkness that requires us to take that next terrible step forward.

God speaks to us in so many ways. I am so glad that He stirred the human soul to sing and paint and write and dance, to be like Him, to create. His story is all about us, if only we are willing to pause and to see.

Boo Boo

This last weekend was our annual Summer Staff Winter Retreat. A weekend where the camp counselors and other camp staff (both old veterans and new recruits) get to be the campers. It is a camp where they do not bear the weight of caring for the needs of campers, but get to rest and hang out and grow in the Lord in the quiet beauty of His creation. Of course it is not always quiet, but the joyful tumult can be refreshing as well.

We had a beautiful heap of fresh snowfall and lovely weather for tubing and outdoor activities. There were many board games played and quiet moments in the lodge as well. Ian (Faramir) Ross was the speaker and his word for the weekend was “Parched.” The woman at the well was one of his examples of our deep and abiding need to be quenched by the ministrations of the Holy Spirit rather than the remedies that we can find in this fallen world. 

I spent my time writing on the camp couch while I observed our three boys zipping around through the counselors in a rowdy pack. Occasionally, counselors would join me. I was able to interview one of them about the weekend, what it meant to her, why she came.

She told me about how busy the winter months are, with school and running start, deadlines and due dates, home issues and the things you have to deal with every day. Things just pile up on top of each other, especially during the Holiday season. But camp was an escape for her, an opportunity to take a pause from the turmoil and strain.

“Camp regenerates you,” she said.

I understand what she means. Watching the snow drift down in a steady, silent, cloak across the forest. Listening to the campers laughing as they sat hunched over a board game or their screams of terror on the tube hill as they rushed down the slope clutching a tube for dear life. Hearing them sing in the soft light of the lodge at night, accompanied by acoustic guitar. Raising their hands, closing their eyes, lifting their voices as one before the Lord. It was lovely, peaceful. A time to take in a great gulp and air and pause. A time to notice God and seek Him, ignoring the bustle and push, resting in His power and love.

What about you? Do you take the time to pause, to rest and seek and be restored? It was a pleasure to see God at work, with nothing but a handful of teens and the blinding glory of His creation all around us. As ever, that is enough for God. He doesn’t need much to do great things.

Boo Boo

Here at Camas Meadows we are incredibly blessed. There are so many amazing people who simply love the camp and that love overflows in fabulous projects like this. The porch on Squirrel Cabin has been in need of replacement for some time. Built in the 70s that porch has weathered rowdy boy campers and actual weather alike, but had come to its last leg after many years of faithful service. The problem, camp did not have the funds for such a project. But out of the blue, one of our counselor parents, stepped in and made this beautiful renovation of Squirrel cabin possible. John and Sue Torrence’s three children are no longer campers or counselors, and yet Camas has remained in this family’s heart. Clint Griffith milled the lumber and then John came up to camp, day after day (even on Sue’s birthday…thank you Sue!) and built the porch, by himself, as a labor of love. But that’s not all.

Many of you have enjoyed being doused with water in the camp’s aging dunk tank. That much-loved feature finally passed on last year. Above is our brand new dunk tank, designed and built once again, by John Torrence. A clear plastic liner will allow campers to enjoy each dunking, even after the dunkee is submerged! Thank you so very much! We could not do this without you and realize that we are beyond a doubt, incredibly blessed.

Boo Boo

This year Camas Meadows has experienced and unexpected blessing. For the first time ever, we have the honor of hosting a couple from Hard Hats For Christ. Larry and Dee (and Bootsie too) will be staying up at the camp for two whole months to help us out with all of those improvement projects that really need to get done but never seem to be finished because there is always something more pressing. This is their fourth year with Hard Hats for Christ and we are the fifth camp that they have helped out. Larry and Dee started searching for a way to serve the Lord in their “retirement” and after investigating several different organizations everything just fell together miraculously for them to work for Hard Hats. Their paperwork was rushed through in record time and then someone traded in a beautiful RV at Larry’s workplace that was offered to them for a wonderful price. Bim Bam Boom and they were on their way. Larry is starting out the summer working on railings for the bunk beds in the cabins and counters and shelving for our camp work shop so that we can actually organize our tools and find them again. So there you have it. Meet Larry and Dee, a surprise blessing this summer and a part of our summer camp crew.

CamasCon is a very strange and lovely creature. Like a hippogriff. It is hard to describe, but is amazing all the same. Did you ever watch Cheers? I didn’t. I was of a tender age at the time that it was running and my parents didn’t allow. But I know the theme song and caught a few episodes here and there. CamasCon is a little bit like the bar in Cheers, a safe place, where everyone knows your name. Sing it with me now… So, a hippogriff, a run down Chicago bar, am I confusing you yet?

There is no alcohol at CamasCon and no magical flesh-eating horse-birds. But what we do have is a unique camp that welcomes a wide variety of people who have one thing in common, they love to game. 

And that is how CamasCon has campers who are in their late 60’s and campers who are gradeschoolers. Campers who are in full-time Christian ministry and campers who are atheists. Campers who play deeply contemplative Euro games and campers who will only play if there is a superhero, an elf, or some kind of ship from Star Wars on the box.

Watching the campers at CamasCon this last week gave me an eureka moment concerning ministry.

Sometimes we think that it is our message that frightens the non-believers in our lives away. I realized that this is simply not so. Jon (Crush) Johansen provided three solid and challenging Christian chapel sessions last weekend. He did not mince words. Did those in the crowd who weren’t sure about God or who straight-up didn’t believe leave camp? Nope, after chapel they played games with Jon and ate snacks and held animated debates and played more games.

We don’t always get notes of encouragement from campers. It is an occasional blessing that we hold dear. But do you know who does send Scruff encouraging notes? Both of the regular attenders who are atheists. They rarely miss a CamasCon, and have both written their thanks, for providing a place where they belong.

I learned something this week. Service, ministry, the great things of God…they look like chapel sessions and open Bibles and bowing the head before meals. But they also look like laughter and inclusion and being willing to actually listen to someone else’s opinion with respect. Much ministry went on at CamasCon. Jon heard stories about people who found freedom from sin, people who learned how to relate to their family, people who had changed since he’d spoken to them last. But the quieter, gentler ministry cannot be forgotten. Good food cooked with a smile, a lively conversation in which you can participate without fear, respect and consideration from the people around you, knowing that you are in a place where you are loved. I am challenged by the realization that people may not hear the amazing message of Christ’s love for them if the gentle ministry of love and graciousness does not accompany it.

So yes, CamasCon went well. Many games were played, many snacks were eaten, very little sleep occurred and I for one went away having learned something valuable.

Boo Boo

If you are a Trekkie like me, you will know exactly what I’m talking about in the title of this post. Space! It is the final frontier and a particularly amazing collection of galaxies and stars and planets and quasars and asteroids and comets and…things. 

I read an article about space this week that made me think of camp.

You doubt?

Well, it was actually two articles. One by Eric Metaxas in the Wall Street Journal about the signs of intelligent design in the universe and a letter to the editor by Lawrence Krauss saying that Metaxas was all wrong. Now I myself really don’t care whether there is other intelligent life in the universe. Let me amend that, my twelve-year-old self cared very much. I intended to marry Spock and if the universe didn’t cough up some Vulcans real soon I was going to be out of luck. But Vulcans aside, whether or not God created other habitable worlds, my faith in Him is not shaken. So why read these two articles and why in the world did they make me think of camp?

Most campers live in a town of some sort. It might be a small town with lovingly landscaped streets that sport decorative bushes and trees and hanging flower baskets. It might be a larger town with a wide variety of shopping experiences and more than one movie theater. Or they might live in a bustling city with malls and billboards and highways and maybe even a skyscraper or two. But very few of the kids who come to camp actually live out in the woods like my boys.

Just like there is something about the vast, swirling wonders of space which pulls the mind toward questions about God. There is something about setting foot in the forest that makes you pause and wonder, is He there? If so, does He really see me?

When you are in town, you are surrounded by the manmade. Houses are constructed, streets are paved and maintained, stores are bought and sold, trees and shrubs come from a nursery and must be trimmed and sprayed for insects and watered lest they die. The forest, well the forest lives on its own.

No one is watering the towering pines that cover the hills around camp. They are simply there, stretching toward the heavens in all their splendor. Elk, squirrels, bear, snowshoe hares, deer, porcupines, cougar, and marmots move through the forest unaided. With the exception of the squirrels by my grandparents house, they find their food and live their lives without a mall or medical plan. The sizzling heat of the July sun. The aching cold of a midnight hike to Inspiration Point. The vast spread of stars above and the gentle call of song birds on the wind. We can forget all of these wonders when we surround ourselves with the works of man.

Camp is a place where you meet God.

Not just because the speaker is teaching from the Bible. Not just because the counselors are asking for prayer requests at night. You meet God at camp because camp is surrounded by all the amazing things that He Himself has made. I am awestruck when I touch God’s handiwork. Whether it is a confusing glimpse into the intricacies of space, or hearing an owl call to his mate in the dead of night. I want kids to see His wonders too. I don’t want kids to spend their lives on sidewalks and playgrounds and think that they have seen it all. I want them to experience the things that God made, in all their wild splendor. And that is why those articles made me think of camp.

So how about you?

What leaves you flabbergasted and in awe of God? 

Boo Boo

Have you ever experienced that sinking feeling when you realize something is not going to work. As a child, sitting on your bike at the top of a steep hill, looking down on a hastily build jump, and realizing that you do not have the skill necessary to pull this thing off. Driving all the way to the Laundromat and finding out that you do not have any detergent. Signing up for college classes in your final semester and seeing that the course you need is only offered in the fall. We had this experience at camp this week. But God is strange and faithful and unexpected, especially in times like these.

So, right before he had to leave to shop for camp groceries, Scruffy got an e-mail from the camp book-keeping guy. I was indicating the clock with some concern. Scruff had to get out the door or he wouldn’t get back to camp in time. He shook his head at my insistence. “No, I’ve got to take care of this.”

Our book-keeper had e-mailed with a list of the bills that needed to be paid the first of January. Due to some large, unforeseen electrical costs, there was not enough money to cover everything. He needed Scruffy to tell him what to pay first and what would have to wait for our January income to come in.

It was one of those moments.

Over the lifetime of the camp, we have seen this before, many many times. Full-time ministry is an experience rife with the unknown and learning how to trust by necessity. Although we have grown accustomed to such times, they are never fun to experience.  Scruff made the list and sent off that e-mail. Then he paused for just a moment to open a couple of Christmas cards. One was from a camp counselor who was at that “launching into the workforce” age. A second card was from a high school friend of mine. A friend I haven’t seen since my ten-year-reunion several years ago. The counselor sent a gift for the summer intern program and anywhere else that had a desperate need. My friend simply send her gift. Between those two simple Christmas cards the camp received enough money to pay our bills for January and fund most of our Summer Intern Program.

Thrilled, Scruffy rushed off to do the camp shopping and make deposits at the bank. When he got back he had the joy of writing an e-mail explaining how extra money had miraculously appeared in the camp account.

God could have provided for the camp before Scruffy had to write that e-mail. Before that sinking moment where we faced the realization that our best laid plans were not sufficient. But He didn’t and I for one am glad.

We survive because of God. Inside, we all know this. Our very ability to breath and pump blood through our veins and metabolize energy from our food depends upon God. But it is so easy to forget.

In those dark moments of insufficiency, that is when we see the truth. We will not succeed without God. But that is alright, because He is here, among us. Mighty and baffling and strong. Working His wonders in His own way at His own time.

Boo Boo