Because I Got High

You all know what I'm talking about; that surge of energy, that feeling like you and God have "never been closer", those tears of that openly flowed as you prayed with your cabin mates that last night.  Most of us experienced it as campers ourselves.  Some of us made life-altering decisions during such highs.

And, unless I'm way out-of-touch and utterly unobservant, it was lacking at ACA's junior high camp last week.

And, I'm still trying to decide how/what I feel about it.

I don't feel like we did anything terribly wrong at camp to quench the Spirit and inhibit God's moving in the student's lives.  We led the students in daily quiet times and had two chapel sessions a day, complete with silly games, music, and a quality speaker. We followed up each chapel session with breakout groups, divided by cabin. We followed the "camp high recipe" to a T.

But as Hamlet said, "Aye, there's the rub."

The "high" was expected.  As counselors, we talked about the camp high as though it were inevitable.  We introduced new songs during the first few chapels expressly for the purpose of the students being able to close their eyes and really focus on the words' meanings during that last night as they "got their high on".

Who do we think we are? I think God's chuckling a bit at our foolish pride. And I'm grieved over a few things that I'm choosing to/trying not to blame for our "failure".

First, the worship team.  A week before camp, I was (finally) given a list of the students who would be leading music at camp: four girls to sing, a drummer, guitarist, and keyboardist.  The perfectionist in me was worried about having an all-student worship team without an "expert" to guide them along, but I swallowed my pride and embraced the simplicity of it all.

Trouble was, though, that there was no drum set either at the camp or at school that we could take with us.  Bye-bye drummer.  And the keyboardist had a broken leg and was opting out of camp since he would have extreme difficulty getting from point-A to point-B, let alone get to enjoy any of the activities.  Adios keyboardist.   The guitarist, just told me point-blank that he didn't want to play (and I wasn't going to coerce him into leading worship). Sayonara, guitarist.  So, our "team" was down to four eighth grade girls who could carry a tune.  And we had a week to figure something out.  Thankfully, one of the guy counselors knows how to play guitar and graciously agreed to head up worship for us.  The team practiced during the 20 minute "snack" break between 2nd and 3rd period, the girls scrambling to learn the songs picked out for the week.  Not our best effort. And it showed, quite painfully.

And then there was the weather. Tuesday night's chapel started outdoors because of a power outage.  Half-way through the music/worship (I'm not quite sure which to call it), the power came back on and the kids impulsively scrambled for seats inside the now-lit chapel.  I guess we're moving inside.  The rain started during the wee-hours of Wednesday morning, that oh-so-pivotal last day of camp.  The rain was off-and-on all day, forcing us inside for some morning games, but allowing us outdoors in the afternoon for a picture scavenger hunt and some much needed running-around-time.

Knowing that rain was a distinct possibility for the evening, we prepped the 8th graders for potential bad news: we might have to cancel the bonfire, we might have to skip the traditional "hide the 8th graders" game, and we might have to watch a movie with all of the students in the evening (the movie is usually an 8th grade only event that they were unusually excited about).  But if the rain held out, we'd proceed as planned.  And at the start of evening chapel, everything was running according to (our) plan.  But as the speaker wound up his final talk and challenged the students to group up and devise a viable plan to raise money to help fight hunger/poverty in Asuncion, lightning bolts shattered the sky, thunder shook the building, and the downpour began.  

I could honestly feel a switch in the students.  They didn't care about the "feed the hungry" project any more.  All the week's talks about God's holiness and His might, His unfailing care for us and the lost . . . it dissipated instantly as those first water droplets hit the roof.  They were gone. They were more focused on the bonfire, the game, the movie, than they were the REAL intent of the week.  It became painfully obvious that they didn't truly "get it".   And later when the power went out, spoiling the movie for everyone, the camp was declared the "worst week ever," despite the bonding, worship, and amazing chapel sessions.

The thing that has bothered me the most, though, is how over "academic-ized" chapel, quite times and God-based discussions have become for many of the students.  From this one week of day-long interaction with  them, it seems as though the idea of reflective thinking is completely foreign. So much so that they have no frame of reference for how to even begin.  Everything - EVERYTHING - has a "right" answer and they need to know what it is to fill in the blank on their outline or have compete notes or ace the "test" at the end. "God", "Jesus", "the Bible", and "prayer" are the go-to answers and, when pressed to explain - "what do you mean by that?" - their baffled expressions are, well, baffling.

Quite times were frustrating.  The "content" questions had to have exact right answers (and all the girls made sure that they had the same things written in their journals - so much for individual quiet times).  The "reflective" questions were met with more questions than heart-felt pondering.

"Mrs. T, what do you mean by 'how are you doing in this area?' "

Um, well, I mean, "how are you doing in this area?"

"I don't get it."

Humm, what to say to that . . .

And chapel notes.  Who makes camp chapel notes compulsory, part of students' Bible class grades? Apparently we do.  And boy were those students focused on filling those lines of their journals, finished when they reached a page per session, despite the content that fell past the one-page mark.  Frustrated when the PowerPoint slide changed before they could copy verbatim the title of that night's message.  Focused on spelling, grammar, and completing a task rather than on the heart of the matter.

**deep sigh**

My hope in typing this all out was that I would come to some conclusion about the week.  That by putting all my thoughts on "paper" I would see the common thread and be able to make some profound (or even quaint) summative statement about the week.  But this post is leaving me much like the week at camp did - unfulfilled and lacking.

What I will say is that I hope Bailey (and baby #2) learns to take notes the way I did: by watching my mom in church.  Because of a desire to retain what is being taught.  Not confined to a sheet of paper because it was assigned and obligatory, but led by the Spirit and His prompting in her heart.  I hope to teach her how to think about her spiritual walk, letting her think through the "grey" areas, struggling to see God in His simplicity and His complexity. And I pray the weather outside doesn't distract her from a calling He's placing in her life.