Training Camp Part I: A Song in the Air
So it’s been a while since I last wrote a blog post, and more importantly, it’s been almost 10 days since the end of training camp. I wanted to avoid writing so quickly to make sure I had ample time to process all that I learned and experienced at camp. I wanted my emotions to fade and to look at everything through logical lenses. The great news is, time hasn’t changed my challenges, and in fact, the passing days only reveal a greater desire for growth. I’ll explain.
I remember arriving to camp both excited and anxious. It reminded me much of a freshman orientation experience, where everyone stands awkwardly and attempts to master small talk with the people we knew we’d be spending the next year with. Instead of questions like “what’s your major?” and “where are you from?” we all mastered the “what brings you to the world race?” and “how far did you have to drive?”
After failing miserably at a few name-learning games, the training sessions started, and the forced conversations continued. At our first session, everything changed.
I remember very clearly walking into Hickory, a large, rustic meeting hall, with high ceilings supported by a classic beam structure, and glancing at the faces of two-hundred and fifty strangers, and thinking This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Within minutes we began worshiping, and it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
Now I’m quite the traditionalist. I worship with my hands deeply buried in my pockets. I prefer to repeat a few well known choruses, and occasionally rock back and forth to make sure if anyone is watching they know I’m engaged in the moment. I didn’t know anyone else in the room, save perhaps the first names of those standing directly beside me.
Before the band even finished the first song hands were raised, people we jumping up and down, and praising in a way I’d never experienced before, and honestly, I shut down.
I struggled for the next few songs. I couldn’t help but question my reasoning for being there. This wasn’t exactly what I expected or signed up for. I also couldn’t help but question the motives of myself and those around me. This would change, but for now, I was in lockdown.
And then it happened…
We sang a song without words. It was incredible. No clever choruses, no theologically deep verses, just two-hundred and fifty voices shouting to their creator. It was indescribable. I remember closing my eyes and just listening to sounds echo across the room: the intonations, the rise and fall of breath and shouts, the cries of hope, and the roars of praise. A simple song, beautifully complex, yet completely unified in purpose:
We are here. We are free.
As the shouts dissipated and the room fell to a tranquil silence, I opened my eyes, and no longer saw strangers, but brother and sisters in Christ. I arrived less than five hours prior and I already felt a stirring change within me.
Even more exciting, I knew this transformative adventure was just beginning.
