A Camping We Will Go...

Mention church camp to me now (as an adult,) and it has an entirely different meaning than when I was a kid.  Back then, my parents would ship me off to a Baptist camp in Oklahoma, and we weren’t even Baptists.

I remember the long, hot summer hours we spent each night in the “tabernacle” as a visiting evangelist called for “every head bowed and every eye closed” as we sang 27 verses of Just As I Am.  One night, my buddies and I drew straws and the loser had to go forward, just so we could get out of there.  I lost.

I still feel a twinge of guilt when I think about that night, and the fact that my coming forward during the altar call wasn’t quite sincere.  I think I even feel more guilt when I think about all the times we held hands in a prayer circle at camp.  Someone would pray, and when they had said about all they could say, they would squeeze the hand of the next person, then that person would pray.  Every time they squeezed my hand, I would say, “Pass.”

Oh well.  I guess we all have regrets.

One thing I will never regret, however, is taking the kids to camp as an adult.  I L-O-V-E- it.  And I wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in... wherever they keep tea.  To be honest, I don’t even really think about the kids.  I think about me.  Me, me, me.  And all the fun I’m going to have with the other pastors and youth pastors.

But don’t tell my youth group.  They think I’m sacrificing just for them.  It’ll be our little secret.

Please keep our youth (and me) in your prayers.  We head to camp in Kansas City July 8 - 13.

While you’re at it, specifically pray for no “altar call fake-outs” and no “passing.”

Mucho blessings -

Skip