Camp & Holy Preparation

This post was mostly written after the 2012 camping season, but never posted. Since camping season is here, again, it seemed timely.

Can it really be weeks since I left camp? I've been meaning to write about it for that whole time. It just took this long to find the words.

This year was my first year directing camp, welcoming more than 50 kids who had just finished 4th and 5th grades, plus adults to teach, sing, play and watch over. I've never been to camp with another age group and I never really want to give another group a try. This age is just...so...fun. Yes, the hormones are (sometimes) starting to kick in, but for the most part, they're fun, easy to entertain kids who enjoy just about everything about camp.

My most treasured moments in ministry are times of preparation, times a lot of folks would consider a necessary evil rather than a joy. Not surprisingly, camp follows suit. When I think of camp, I first think of nighttime.

It's the time of night when I'm getting ready for the next day, thinking of what needs to be done before then. Around then, the kids are getting ready for bed, but aren't there just yet. They're showering and writing in journals and talking in their bunkbeds, at least the girls; I don't know what the boys do when alone in the cabins. Usually, I'm walking around the camp, doing last minute checks and clean-ups. As I walk past cabins, I catch bits of conversations. I hear lots of laughter muffled by the walls. There, in the darkness, I pray some and think some before heading back to my cabin, where there will surely be many giggling girls wanting to do anything but go to bed.

The days before camp were marked by cutting cardboard and fabric, getting them ready for crafts. There was much shopping and calculating, working to make everything happen and stick to my budget, with a few fun surprises thrown in along the way. The glow sticks I found on clearance were pretty awesome, after all. They were days of packing and unpacking and loading and reloading, as were the days after camp.

And why? The question often haunts me. Why do this? Why work so hard and put so many hours into something that will be enjoyed for such a short time? It's not just camp, but so many things that I prepare for, and admittedly, over-prepare for. It might just be for me--the Type A, obsessive-compulsive person most know me as.

Except I don't think so. It wouldn't be such a life-altering, presence of the Spirit thing if it were just about me, just about making me happy.

Instead, I call it holy invitation.

As much as I wish there were descriptions of Jesus getting ready for his followers, there's not. Of course, there's the snippet or two--go find a donkey. Get the room ready. But nothing substantial. Even the prayers in the garden before his crucifixion seem to be for Jesus, not his disciples.

I wish the Gospel writers had told us more. It occurs to me, though, that maybe they didn't write about it because no one knew about those things except Jesus. No one was there to witness those things. No one bothered to tell or make up stories about those things. They seemed unimportant, maybe, especially compared with the people clamoring for teaching and healing.

Consider, though, how much of Jesus' ministry and teaching would never have happened if someone hadn't spent a great deal of time getting ready. What if the little boy's mother hadn't packed his lunch? What if someone forgot the wine or didn't bake enough bread when Jesus and his disciples celebrated passover? What if no one had bothered to open the synagogue or the temple?

In my heart of hearts, I don't think the invitation I offer is holy; I have the privilege of offering an invitation to the holy. I'm ready and put in lots of work because I believe people will encounter God in the place I am ministering.

Truthfully, don't I join so many priests who have come before me? Those who dressed in special garments and those who didn't. Those who sacrificed animals and bread and those who scoff at the notion. Those who slept in the sacred spaces and those who spent nights with their families.

So in the darkness of the evening and the darkness of the early morning, the hours when I do more work than any other, I remember: I'm getting ready. God's children are coming and God will surely meet them here.