e-camp tales

They sat among paper and markers spread about the floor on the final day of e-camp - youth not yet in their twenties possessing a wisdom and presence few will ever know. The older one, tan with chestnut hair tied up in a pony tail, asked questions of her younger friend. The younger, pale-skinned with white-blonde hair and braces with red-rubber bands looked to her friend to explain the mysterious.

“Some people decide they don’t want to do it. But when I was seven years old, I decided to live my life for Christ,” she said as she reached for a pink marker. 

Bodies traced on 5-foot strips of white paper surrounded them. The campers in the Create It section had traced their bodies on white paper. As the girls chatted, the campers lined the halls decorating these sketches and expressing their personalities in ways only the uninhibited youth can discover.

Among them, Claire and Josie sat discussing matters of eternity using words with immeasurable impact like: Have  you thought about it? Do you know what it means to be a “Christian?” Would you like me to pray for you?

The e-camp counselors, haggard and stiff, ferried markers back and forth. As we passed, we relayed an alert to pray. Our smiles belied the muscular soreness and weariness of bone we felt after a week of running after 140 children. As I passed my good friend and fellow accomplice in the Create It section of e-camp, she whispered, “Paydirt!” And we both got it that this is the REASON we are here. Our hope and prayer is that the children would get a glimpse of the God we worship. 

e-camp equals 

1,000,000 strips of tissue paper.

500,000 e-mails.

900 stickers.

500 markers. 

250 pencils.

200 lanyards.

180 t-shirts.

165 paint brushes.

80 bowls of glue.

40 drumsticks.

25 journals.

14 construction paper “chains”

10 trips to Sonic.

1 year of planning and praying.

The planning and worrying. The praying and cutting. The painting and hammering. The setting up and the tearing down. The million pieces of tissue paper glued to the concrete floor. The brand new pedicure now splattered with Kilz primer. The t-shirts carefully designed, printed, labeled and sorted and then sweated in with sweet service to our God. The eight or so thawed gallons of ice cream dripping down the Learning Center freezer. One humble leader willing to clean it up. His wife who stacks chairs and submits to her Father. We would do all this and more for one lost sheep to find her way home. We do it because Our Father said He would do it. Only He said He would lay down His life for one lost sheep. 

It all boils down to a question I saw scribbled in a sketch book by a sage 12-year-old boy. “God, how did you let Jesus die on the cross and not help him?”

How?

How?

Are we really worth that? I did not ascribe that worth, He did. Adonai. Jehovah Raah. Immanuel. Jehovah Tskidenu. 

Later Friday night, I sat in the audience as 140 children under twelve lead me in a worship experience that must have bounced off the gates of Heaven itself. A little angelic blonde girl aptly named Summer danced before me. She personified worship and playing before God and resting in His Sovereignty. 

I mused... Is there any joy greater to our Lord than seeing a child break out in unabashed worship? Is there anything that pleases Him more than 140 children singing His Name in praise? Is there any higher calling than to simply be a vessel for His Spirit to fuel these children?

What will this generation of deep thinkers and passionate lovers accomplish? 

I cannot fathom it. I am changed to have been a part of seeing them worship our God this week at e-camp.