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

Every summer, on the last day of Staff Training, we have the naming ceremony.

Now the goal is to pick a name that reveals something about that person. Sometimes we get carried away and names just end up being fun. I was named Boo Boo because I was so cautious and needed to follow all of the rules all of the time. Boo Boo Bear is always cautious about Yogi’s picnic basket schemes. “I don’t know Yogi, the Ranger wouldn’t like it” and thus my name was born. Scruffy showed up as a camp speaker with very very torn jeans, ripped shirts, and a tattered flannel. And then there was Rambo. Someone suggested “Rainbow” but the director misheard and she was Rambo from then on.

But once in awhile all does go as planned and a moment of magic occurs. Once in a while the name is so perfect that no one contests it. Everyone stands back amazed.

This summer that moment occurred with one of our guy C.I.T’s. He sat on the stool in the middle of the staff while several good names were suggested. Then Scruffy suggested a name: Orion.

Huh, it was a fine name, time to move on. But then he explained his selection. Orion was a comic book character. There were two warring planets. One evil and one good. In order to save their peoples and bring peace, the leaders of the planets exchanged their sons. The prince of the good planet went to live in darkness. The prince of the evil planet went to live in light. He stepped out of a dark and violent world and was raised by a man of peace. He left the hopelessness of his heritage behind him and became a superhero on the good planet. His name was Orion.

The C.I.T. boy sat there looking at Scruffy, knowing that he knew his story. You see, this young man was part of the foster care system, a lost child, passed from place to place, until he was adopted and given a home. He came to camp as a hurting camper trying to put a finger on exactly who he was and where he fit in. But he came back and chose to be a counselor, to walk forward out of the darkness of his past, and to give of himself to others.

Everyone was silent.

Then they named him Orion. 

Boo Boo

Our last summer camp leaves tomorrow and school starts in three days. But if you want to come up to Camas Meadows before the leaves start turning color, next weekend is your chance.

Over Labor Day weekend we have our annual fall work retreat. It starts with an evening snack on Friday and ends with lunch on Monday. Sweet Tea (our amazing cook) will be providing the vittles and the campers (both young and old) will be providing the manual labor. People come and go as they can, putting in a few hours of work or staying a few days. Whatever works for their schedule. 

Camas Meadows was built and expanded during these biannual work retreats (Fall and Spring) and many necessary projects are completed that help keep camp running smoothly. Fire wood needs to be split and stacked for the long winter ahead, the cabins are deep cleaned before winter rental groups arrive, some work needs to be done on Mountain Panther so that the long awaited cabin bathroom can go in, the grounds are buttoned up for the snows ahead, and hopefully they will get a roof put in for the greatly anticipated new generator. The new generator that will actually be powerful enough to run our dishwasher (and all the summer dishwashers cheered, waving their bleach-chapped hands with elation)!

It is hard work. But when the long day of toil is done, Scruffy will bust out his huge collection of board games and campers get a chance to relax in the lodge before the next day’s toil begins.

So if you are a camper or camp counselor and are missing camp, if you are a parent and kind of wish that you had been the one packing your suitcase for a week away, if you are a dish washer or a board member or a friend of a friend of whoever…come on up. Camp happens because of workers like you. We work hard. We play hard. And it all happens next weekend. So please, consider yourself invited.

Boo Boo

The week of Senior High camp is something that I’m not sure I can explain. How do you express what six days of honesty feels like? Six days of jagged emotion. Six days of weeping and laughing and tearing through scripture and falling on your face before God telling him that you are completely done.

Van Helsing spoke on brokenness.

The first night was about broken bones. The hurts and pains and inevitable tragedies of life that make you want to give up. But scripture is very clear. Trouble and sorrow will come, but God has called us to endure and reach to God. The second night was about broken homes. So many of these kids do not have 2 parents to hold onto. Too many of them have been shattered by the very ones who should be fighting the hardest to save them. Then came broken hearts. We are designed by God to love and trust and thrive. But too few of us are willing to actually set aside our own interests and dare to love. We are a people with broken hearts. And what about broken dreams? There is so much that you hope and dream to achieve and become. What happens to our faith and trust in God if our dreams turn to ashes about our feet? How do we patch our joy back together when life doesn’t work out?

And Friday night…ah yes.

The final lesson was about our Broken Savior.

He was perfect, beloved, unblemished. And then He came, down into our world of dust and blood and hate. He chose the fragrance of smoke and wood curls and the oiled handles of simple tools. He chose the taste of rough country meals. Fish grilled over a fire at dawn, Shabbat wine, and unleavened bread. He chose to hear hungry crowds and hobnailed Roman boots and the bleating of lambs brought to sacrifice. He chose the feeling of gritty roads and weary feet, of course fabric and the pressing desert sun, of fists and beatings and thorns and nails. And Jesus chose to see. He chose to see you and to see me. And not just to see us broken and wandering before Him. He chose to walk our terrible road and rescue us from all the horrors of sin and Hell and a lifetime of death.

Saturday morning was the Revelation Chair.

Kids walked up and sat on a broken bench seat that had been torn out of the bus. They sat and took a glow stick from Van Helsing. Then they broke it. As the broken glow stick began to shine into the room, they told their story. Tales too beautiful and terrible for words. Tales of heartache and horror and God walking here among us. We wept with them and cheered for them as they stood to go. For we are all broken. Broken, bruised, and beaten down. But strangely it is those very shards and cracks which leak forth light. The light of our God, living within, bringing hope to a broken people.

No, I can’t really explain. For I am broken too. But sometimes it is enough just to know that. To see the broken places and watch a God of love as He gathers us up and works His glory. 

Boo Boo

We have a tradition up here at Camas Meadows.

The first flowers of spring belong to Grandma Autumn. There is still enough snow on the ground for my sons to dig snow tunnels, although I see bare patches beneath the trees. But spring is here. The first flowers never appear up on the top of the hill where Winter’s grasp takes so long to loosen. They push through the loam on the banks of Camas Creek Road as it twists up the mountain toward the meadow. For the whole month of March and sometimes into April, we drive by these sunny roadside banks at 5 miles per hour looking for splashes of yellow. Finally the day arrives. Bright yellow pine lilies appear on the banks and we gather the first few blooms of spring for my grandmother, Autumn Griffith, one of the camp’s founders.

When the first blossoms finally came this year, I handed the small bouquet to my youngest son and he took off like a shot, barefoot and coatless, for Grammy’s house. Because she had been waiting for this moment all month.

Just so you know, it is spring now at Camas Meadows. It may not look like it. But soon the melt will reach the top of the mountain and we will have flowers of our own blanketing the forest floor. Even though my boys are busy digging forts in the snow banks, we are confident that the advent of spring has occurred. The pine lilies have been found and presented to Grandma Autumn. The rest of the season is soon to follow.

Boo Boo

Scruffy has been cutting boards and sanding and painting on coats of polyurethane for the past two weeks. Now I am happy to report that his project is finished. Two beautiful wooden benches now grace the shower rooms of the main lodge. I present to you: The Shower Room Benches of Camas Meadows!

In the Boy’s Bathroom

In the Girl’s Bathroom

Boo Boo