There is something about high school aged girls that just grabs my heart.
It’s such a vital time of change, identity establishment, self discovery and growth, which for many entails a hard couple of years. I know it was for me.
You are trying to figure out who you are and what you believe in, and the process usually isn’t fun- especially because everyone around you is in the exact same process.
Girls can be brutal to each other. And every comment, whether intentionally unkind or simply careless, is weighed and considered in their perception of self.
Despite the irrational emotions, lack of maturity, rebellious attitudes, and raging hormones, I love working with teen age girls. Partly because I feel for them and partly because I know what a powerful opportunity it is to speak life into them and point them down the path of truth.
This week I got to do just that.
In a last minute shift of ministry, our three teams packed up our stuff from the construction site and headed across town to put on an English summer camp in a vacant orphanage.
The “cabin” that I co-led was a group of thirteen Russian girls aged twelve to sixteen.
The week was a chaotic whirlwind of activity- with English lessons, Bible stories, skits, small groups, raw conversations, games, dance parties, and nights without sleeping. And even though I was crawling to the finish line this morning, I loved every minute of it.
Immediately I feel in love with my girls.
They were sweet, genuine, energetic, vibrant, and loved to talk. Despite the language barrier, they tried all week to speak to me in English and make me a part of their friend group.
Although the camp was put on through the church, only three of the girls in my cabin were Christians. Right away, my heart was burdened for them. Despite their smiles and upbeat personalities, early on several came up to me and described deep feelings of being lost, lonely and purposeless. I wanted so badly for them to experience the extravagant love that brought me out of my darkness at that age.
“I think your religion is different than mine,” observed one girl on the second day. She and her mom went to Orthodox service on Easter, but the intimate relationship with God that I described was something she had never heard about.
Day after day these conversations continued. The more we talked about Jesus, the more they wanted to know. How could I be sure that the Bible was true? Did I really believe that Jesus rose from the dead, how could I know?
But even more powerful than the conversations was the love that they experienced.
They felt accepted, embraced, respected, and cherished exactly as they were. For once they were seen, not for their carefully painted eyes or youthful bodies, but for the beauty of their hearts.
On Saturday morning they didn’t want to leave. They wrapped their thin arms around me and said that they would never forget this week, and I know that it wasn’t because of the silly songs or childish crafts we did with them.
They encountered Christ here
and they walked away changed because of it.
I believe in summer camps. For two summers I worked on a houseboat on a lake pouring into campers, not so much because it was fun for me, but rather because of the powerful impact that I witnessed there.
This age group is so hungry for truth. They are searching for meaning, asking the real questions and deciding what they believe. While the world doesn't offer anything but misguidance, God offers truth.
Time after time I have seen Him show up at summer camps and change the course of high schoolers' lives in just a week. That's why, despite the physical exhaustion that camp brings, my soul thrives in this environment. There is no place I'd rather be than in the heart of the action of God's kingdom coming to earth, whether it's on a lake in California or in a run-down house in Transnistria.
