In the fall of 2010, I climbed out of mom’s minivan and walked into dance rehearsal. As I rushed out, she told me that my friends at youth group were signing up for a week at a camp in Texas and asked if I wanted to go with. Without much thought and distracted by the rush of being late to ballet, I said “yeah sure, that sounds cool.” I had no idea what I was getting into.
A few months later, I was on this long, curvy road in La Grange, Texas. As we passed thick trees and abandoned farms for several miles, I felt my chest pound harder and my confidence slip away with every turn and mile passed by. It was here that my mindset began to change and anxiously thought to myself “where am I?” Nothing was familiar. As we continued on this never ending road, we passed a sign that read, “Camp Lone Star: Lutheran Outdoors Ministry of Texas.” I swallowed the tears I was beginning to form. The road eventually spat us out in this old parking lot, where we were aggressively welcomed by the energetic college students in red polos. “Seriously, where the heck am I?” I swallowed fear and looked to the seven other “friends” from my youth group for some sort of explanation. The sudden change of atmosphere and attitude shook me to the core. I began to feel a spiritual embrace unlike anything I have ever felt before and I couldn’t help but quietly assess my surroundings on a level much deeper than my teenage mind could handle.
Other campers ran and greeted their friends. Girls jumping and screaming to see one another again and boys hugging their other guy friends… Like actually hugging them. Not a “bro hug” or a head nod, but two guys who felt no shame in embracing one another to show they truly missed each other in the year they had just spent apart. The registration process was a blur but next was our cabin assignments. I was placed in the cabin named The Truth. “That’s a weird name for a building,” I thought but quickly realized the other cabin names made mine fit right in: The Alpha, The Way, The Light, etc. I walked in and another energic college girl came to meet me at the doorway. “Hi Taylor! I’m Kate, I’ll be your counselor for the week.” I probably smiled very shyly and blushed as I then scanned the room to see my new cabin mates staring at me. Now, keep in mind: I am from Illinois, 14 hours north of this camp and my youth group of 8, our Youth Pastor KerriAnn and I traveled to come to this week of camp. Just as I witnessed in the parking lot, these girls all knew each other, but they did not know me and made that very well known. I was the transfer student in a public school cafeteria. I quickly sized up the other girls, expecting to have to prove myself or compliment them to get “in.” I unpacked my bag and set up my bed on the top bunk of one of the bunk beds. Soon after that, my counselor, and only friend, Kate told us about the expectations for the week. In short, the rules for us included: No flirting with boys, no makeup, no short shorts or tank tops, no cell phones. Now I knew I was on another planet and the monster of fear only started to grow.
As we walked to dinner, this sweet blonde came and introduced herself to me. Lauren was from Austin and had been coming to camp with her best friend Tiffany for as long as she could remember. She assured me that I was welcome and that she was excited I was here. “Yeah right,” I thought as I critically judged all of my surroundings. The rest of the night included some pretty weird, but funny, skits put on by the summer staff, devotions by a fire and a trip to medic station for those who had nighttime medicine.
The first day of camp was a blur. I remember meeting the boys, which were the other half of our group and being overwhelmed with how nice they were. We did Bible study, played some games on the old, wooden playground and this game that all of the counselors were freaking out about. I didn’t really understand they hype with hitting a dodgeball at peoples feet, at the risk of falling over the 3 foot wooden wall behind you… It just all seemed silly to me. I was looking forward to Friday and more importantly, Sunday, when I could crawl back into my bed that was at a normal height and didn’t need a ladder to get to.
As the sun began to set on our first day at camp, I expected things to slow down and unwind. But at 8pm, we were given instructions for a hike we were going to take in the dark…. alone. I immediately became frustrated as the anxiety that had faded was beginning to resurface. “In the dark? I hate the dark. This is stupid. It’s so hot. This doesn’t make sense. I wonder if any of my friends are trying to text me. Why did my mom and dad think this was good idea? I want to go home.” Harsh and negative thoughts filled my brain as we waited for what seemed like hours to walk down this dark path, alone.
Finally, it was my turn. The girl in front of me had left and I watched for the counselor facing me to motion for me to walk. When that moment came I stepped down the path, curious and unaware. I noticed a sign hanging from one of the trees, lit up by a lantern. It was a question that prompted me to think inwardly. I don’t remember the question or my answer, but I remember beginning to feel my heart turn in my chest. As I continued along the path, question after question, lantern after lantern, I was began to breathe heavier. These questions made me consider myself and the depth of my sin in a way that I had never done before. As I came out on the other side, I remember being so sick with knowing how broken I was, how sinful I am and how much I have destroyed in my life. I was hurting. I sat down with the other 150 campers on a bench facing a dark field. Once all of us were gathered there, a deep and powerful voice pierced the dark reading scripture. He read about the story of the cross, where Jesus suffered, bled and died “for YOU.” I’ve heard this story all my life, He came, He died, He rose… But that night, in that field, in the darkness, it finally touched the depths of my soul and shook my cold, critical, hard heart. Suddenly, three crosses were illuminated by a fire that was lit. The strong voice continued to read scripture, reminding us of the personal brokenness we had just experienced on that walk and, in the same sentence, told us about Jesus’ love for us. He said things like “you are made new,” “grace and forgiveness are yours,” and “you are precious.” He passionately spoke the gift of salvation into being. My heart pounded, warm tears streamed down my face and the fear I had felt was replaced with an overwhelming peace. Jesus met me face to face there on Alleluia hill and told me he loved me. Without rebuttal, excuses or understanding, I bowed my head and whispered in the dark “Jesus, I love you. I’m ready to come home.” Soft acoustic guitar sounds filled the quietness as the strong voice prayed an emotional prayer, choking on every few words and proclaiming the truth of God’s character: forgiving, understanding, relentless love. We sang a song about the love of this Father and had words that described his grace as an ocean that could drown us. The words stung in the most beautifully, destructive way. Everything I knew before this week was being either torn down or build strong.
The rest of that week included a beautifully busy routine: mornings of hilarious devotions, weird songs about Bible stories in a shack over dusty ground and loose benches, these difficult team building exercises called “challenge course” that were unbelievably difficult and uncomfortable but helped us open up in crazy ways, and nap time that the staff called F.O.B. Each afternoon included some sort of water activity, Bible study, games and then devotions. The week of camp flew by and before I knew it, I woke up on Friday morning next to what I now believed to be the best friends I will ever have and the thought of leaving made my stomach drop in a new uncomfortable way. That week of camp came to an end with tears and we drove down the same long, curvy road. But this time, I felt like my heels were in the sand as someone pulled me forward. I didn’t want the road to end. For the first time, the love and power of the God I had been praying to for 16 years was real. I knew I was going home to a good place and that my mom and dad would be thrilled to have conversations about what I learned. But I was so afraid; I knew the life I was living at home was falling short and, in the eyes of eternity, it was worthless. As I watched the abandoned farms pass, tears streamed down my cheek and I began to pray. We passed the Camp Lone Star sign and I took a deep breath, secretly hoping the time until I see it again would pass quickly.
I returned home and began to change some things, but not everything. The next two years of high school were hard: Balancing friendships and fleshly desires with the convictions I had was extremely exhausting and confusing. But every summer, I returned to that long road, small cabin and hill with three crosses. Camp was the gift I never asked for but gave me more than I could ever hope for. It was there I was met with the weight of my sin, was taught about healthy relationships with girls and guys, learned about how to study scripture and began to walk alongside my Savior. After three years of attending camp as a camper, I worked on the Summer staff for four summers. Pouring into children of all ages while learning more about Jesus alongside the best friends I have ever known was the hardest and best thing that I have ever been a part of. The gift of camp changed my life forever. All glory be to God.
I wanted to tell you this story as many of these memories and stories have recently resurfaced during our time of serving at a Christian summer camp in Serbia. There’s something about the change of scenery, bunk beds, pattern interruption, technology-less, campfire pit atmosphere that tugs at my heart unlike anything else. Camp ministry will forever have a chunk of my heart and Camp Lone Star will always be referred to as my spiritual home on this Earth.
In the midst of destruction, anxiety, false peace, lust and sinful pursuits, Jesus interrupts us and grabs our chin to look him in the eyes. For me, this happened at Camp. For others, it’s the pew of church, a mountain top, a bedside prayer or the dinner table. But nonetheless, we are never left in our destruction, our sin. We have a Savior who traveled to the depths of evil to rescue us. Jesus forgave his enemies while he hung on a cross and he does not hesitate to grip the chin of the children he loves to turn their eyes towards him.
“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, s that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace and kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” Ephesians 2:1-8
My last cabin group as a camper, July 2013
Alleluia Hill
Camp Lone Star Summer Staff 2015
Camp Mrcajevci Serbia
Interested in camp? http://www.lomt.com/
