Going Uphill: Hope

Then the race started. The first mile: easy. The second mile the hills started to come.  The third mile felt like it was all up hill.  And as the hill came, I hoped for the finish line.  This does not mean I despise running and just cannot wait until its over; rather, I hope, I have a confident expectation that I will finish the race, whether first or last or somewhere in-between.  And so I ran with hope.       

Hope.

We cling to this word more then we realize.  A little girl hopes for the doll she has waited over three months for.  She clings to the words of her mother: “Your birthday is coming soon.”  A teenager hopes to score high on his SAT. A man might hope for a promotion at work.  A woman hopes for her boyfriend to finally muster his courage and propose to her. A young couple hopes for their family to grow. Fathers hope for their children to succeed.  Mothers hope for intimacy with their children.  Grandparents hope for grandchildren.  Employees hope for weekends. Slaves hope for freedom.

But hope often comes deepens when sufferings and trials come.  A child hopes his parents will stop arguing and be friends. A teenager hopes for the school day to end so she can hide in her room away from the bullies at school. A son sits at the bed of his mother and hopes she will live through the surgery. A man hopes for a job after the layoff so he can take care of his family. Children hope their parents will not divorce. And so on.  

Why do we so cling to hope? Perhaps we see the world as it truly is and know it is not supposed to be that way.  Perhaps there is a remnant of Eden’s goodness deep within our hearts. “God saw all that he had made, and it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). The sons and daughters of Adam and Eve still yearn for Paradise: for our workplace to be peaceful and fulfilling, for our loved ones to be healthy, for intimacy in relationships, and for a place of rest and freedom. They yearn for this fruit and every time troubles come they hope. 

We live on the other side of Paradise and know the ugliness of life: broken promises and vows, racism, human trafficking (which is slavery in its most hideous form), hate crimes, poverty, the AIDS epidemic, the hoarding of wealth, abuse in homes, shallow relationships, and the list goes on.  No wonder hope is such a powerful word.

To be sure, some people equate the word ‘hope’ with nothing more then fanciful, wishful thinking. A man spends hundreds of dollars on the lottery and ‘hopes’ to win it.  A student ‘hopes’ she will ace her test when she has not even studied for it.  A person might hope to finish first in the Boston marathon when he/she has not trained for it.  This is wishful thinking, not hope.  

Hope, however, is the deep, rich, confident expectation that God will fulfill his promises.  Sister to faith and love, hope is one of the three most enduring words of the human language (1 Corinthians 13:13).  Though its end goal cannot be seen, it deepens patience, builds a foundation for faith, and yields the tender but strong fruit of love (Romans 4:18; 5:4; Hebrews 10:23).  We nourish it through the endurance and encouragement of the Bible (Romans 15:4) and the Spirit empowers us so that we might abound in it (Romans 15:13).  Hope purifies us (1 John 3:3), emboldens us (2 Corinthians 3:12) and lifts our head to search for Christ’s return (Titus 2:13) and heaven (Colossians 1:5).

But this kind of hope is not produced or developed in a vacuum. Our tested character leads to hope and deepens its roots in us.  Paul said as much. “We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope” (Romans 5:3-4). In the midst of suffering, perseverance is produced. On the long road of perseverance, character is formed.  But in the depths of character, hope buds, blossoms and bears fruit. It deepens in the pangs of sufferings, teaching us to learn lessons of life and lift our heads towards Heaven.

“And hope does not put us to shame,” Paul writes (Romans 5:5).  Sometimes as we wait for the fulfillment of our own personal hopes (or wishful thinking), something goes wrong and we are disappointed or humiliated.  But God’s definition of hope does not disappoint, discourage, or humiliate us. We will never be put to shame!

Why? Paul gives the answer: “God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Romans 5:5).

Our hope is grounded in two unshakable agents: God’s love and God’s Spirit.

God’s love is the bedrock of our hope.  This is the reason why hope does not put us to shame.  Paul explains this love a few verses down: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).  You and I were still going our own way instead of God’s.  We rebelled against him, disobeyed him, and incurred his judgment on ourselves. But Christ was pierced, crushed, punished and wounded for us (Isaiah 53:5).

It is through Christ’s death that we see the greatness of God’s love for us. God saw our defiant hearts but our miserable state. So he sent his Son on a search and rescue mission for us.  Jesus became one of us and took upon himself all of our sin and the punishment for it. From every white lie to lustful thought, from every thought of hate to every theft, from bowing to idols of money and television to rejecting the cries of the poor, to the very monster of sin itself—God laid all of it on Jesus and punished him for it, poured out his righteous wrath on him until he died for it. 

The results for us, if we believe in him, are truly amazing!  We no longer face condemnation (Romans 8:1), no longer have to fear God’s wrath (1 Thessalonians 1:10), and no longer are slaves of the fear of death (Hebrews 2:14-15). Instead, we are justified (declared righteous in his sight), have peace with God (Romans 5:1), and become his adopted children (Romans 8:15), and so much more! This was God’s demonstration of love: Christ died for us. 

 

His love was not done in a quiet corner of the world; instead, it was public!  Jesus stumbled through the crowded streets of a capital city during a high festival with a cross on his back.  Everyone in the city heard of it and knew it.  He was nailed to a cross and hung on top of a hill, the hill marked as a skull, outside the city where everyone could see (Matthew 27:33). Roman soldiers, religious leaders and leaders of society gathered to see how he would die. If there were newspaper or television reporters back then, they would have written about it. The internet would have posted it.  People would have sent texts or tweets about it.  Everyone in Jerusalem knew about Jesus’ life and death. 

 God even did extraordinary signs so that people would know that this was no ordinary death.  Darkness covered the entire land for three hours (Matthew 27:45).  And when Jesus died, God ripped the curtain in the temple in two and shook the earth so that graves and tombs split open (27:51).  The pagan centurion who guarded him understood his death was different and declared him to be the Son of God (Mark 15:39).  And God’s declaration of love resounds and rumbles through the centuries covering sin and shaking hearts awake.

And should we ever doubt his love, as we sometimes do, all we have to do is look at the cross.

His love is also our security.  “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword” (Romans 8:35)? According to Paul, these things will not separate us from the love of Christ.  But he takes it a step further. Let’s make that a leap or a light year further! He tells us that ‘we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37). Through Christ and his love we conqueror in life!!

Let’s rephrase this for our modern ears, shall we? “Who or what shall separate us from the love of Christ?” Shall layoffs at work or mean employers or rude customers or debt or poverty or cancer or AIDS or angry words said to you or people picking on you or lack of food or unemployment or the calamities of the world or terrorists or you fill in the blank…the answer is NO.  Nothing has the power to separate you.  Rather, God has given you his love to become more then a conqueror over layoffs, mean employers, rude customers, debt, etc.  You are greater then the Napoleons and Caesars in this life because of him and his love.  And his love gives us the foundation of hope to believe it!

While God’s love is the bedrock of our hope, God’s Spirit is the agent and avenue for God’s love to fill and indwell us.

Even a brief glance at the Spirit’s work in Romans 8 staggers me (and hopefully you). The Spirit’s law is our life and freedom (8:2). He is the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead (!) and He lives in us (8:11)!!! By him we are able to execute the ‘misdeeds’ of the body (8:13). He is the Spirit of adoption so that we are able to call God by the intimate names of Abba or Papa or Daddy (8:15).  God is our Father and the Spirit testifies and reminds us often that we are God’s children (8:16). He helps us in our weaknesses and intercedes for us (8:26). And this is only in one chapter in the Bible!

And He is the one who pours out God’s love into our hearts.  Imagine for a moment that the Pacific Ocean represents God’s love: vast beyond our comprehension, deeper then we realize and more wild and powerful then we dare imagine.  Now imagine you are an everyday cup. Perhaps you are a cute pink one with a handle or a handsome tall green one or a coffee mug with a sunshiney smiley face on it (you’ll have to use your own imagination here—be creative). Now get this! The Spirit pours and squeezes all of the Pacific Ocean (God’s love) into you, the cup!!!

“Impossible!” you say.  And yet that is what the Spirit does with God’s love. 

If we are ever empty on love, it is not on account of the Spirit! He pours God’s love into us.  And so we have hope. Rich. Deep. Genuine. Real hope. 

And so I live with hope.  Do you?

Oh…and by the way, I finished the race and placed something like 128 or 138 out of 300-400 people or something like that—not too bad for running only the day before.  Plus I beat my sister by a few seconds…but I won’t brag...well, not too much.   

Going Uphill: Character

While running up hills develops perseverance in me, it is not the only reason I run—there are other benefits when I do.  The same is true with our trials and sufferings of various sorts.  Perseverance is produced but the Apostle Paul understood that it is not an end in and of itself. Though it is a good characteristic in a person’s life, it is also a road or pathway that leads to other benefits.  

Let me put it another way. When a little girl starts out playing the piano with a desire to play a piece from Beethoven or Bach, she does not have the ability or skill to just sit down and play it.  She will need to learn music notes, coordinate her fingers to the keys, practice repetitions and simple songs, tap her foot to the beat of whole notes, half notes and quarter notes, learn the meaning of rests and flats, and learn to read notes without looking at her fingers. The path to playing a great musician is perseverance, not just practice. She will need to practice but without perseverance she will not achieve her goal.  Through her practice she will need to learn perseverance through the painstaking repetitions, long hours, and her mistakes in both private and public atmospheres.  She learns perseverance but she does not play the piano for perseverance’s sake alone.  There is something greater beyond. 

The same is true when I run.  I do not run for perseverance alone.  Indeed, it will come in handy when I run a half marathon or marathon. However, there are many other reasons why I choose to run: lower blood pressure, a release of stress, overall health, a toned body, able to outrun my nieces and nephews and my sister’s three dogs (which comes in handy every now and then), able to beat my sister in a race (nope...not bragging, well not too much), and so on.

So if perseverance is a path, then what is the outcome? Why did Paul persevere through his sufferings?  What did he see as the end result of perseverance? This is what he wrote in Romans 5:3 “We know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

Perseverance leads to ‘character.’ Character? What does this word mean?  Perhaps you have heard someone say, “Well, you know Bobby, he is a character” meaning that Bobby is a little odd or perhaps a little too funny for his own good.  And while you like Bobby as a friend, you would rather pass on the notion to become like Bobby.  While our English word ‘character’ has that meaning and a variety of others from an ‘actor in a play’ to ‘reputation’ to ‘moral strength,’ the biblical word for it has the nuance of ‘proof’ or ‘evidence’ or ‘approved and tried.’  Perhaps a good rendering for it would be ‘tried or approved character,’ something tested and refined by persevering up the rugged hills of our adversities and sufferings.

If we return to the running imagery (no pun intended), ‘character’ is equivalent to being in shape.  After you persevere in running up hills several times your body becomes toned, your muscles stronger, and your body now coincides with your mind that you can go that distance. Or with the pianist, ‘character’ is equivalent to becoming an accomplished pianist. Your trained mind now comprehends the notes to play while at the same time your fingers dance across the ivories to play Beethoven or Bach’s pieces. It is the same with persevering through suffering. Character is established or as James wrote, “Let perseverance finish its work so that you might be mature and complete.” 

So perseverance leads to Christ-likeness in our character and maturity in our faith.  You know it while you wait in patience for a slow cashier during the Christmas season. You experience it while you pray for someone who has ridiculed you at work. You taste it when you refuse to listen to gossip or turn from pornography on the internet. You understand it when you have compassion on your drunken neighbor and reach out to him with a basket filled with fruits and cookies.  You delight in it when you listen to your teenage daughter’s problems at one o’clock in the morning. You rejoice in it when your spouse has a rough day and takes it out on you. Instead of retaliation you ask questions, listen to his/her needs, and respond with love.

This kind of character is not formed overnight.  It takes time. It takes perseverance.  It takes trials, adversity, and suffering in our lives to get us there.  But it is worth it!  And in our society, men and women of character are sorely needed. We hear of road rage, embezzlement, fraud, statistics of divorce, abuse in the homes, fathers running away leaving families, drunkenness, gossip in workplaces, teenage pregnancies, and…well, you get the picture.  I don’t need to tell you the state of the world. You know it. If you open your eyes you see it.  If you open your heart, you’ll feel it.

Our world desperately needs men and women who will BE the light of Christ to the people around them. “You are the light of the world,” Jesus said (Matthew 5:14).  It is a statement, a declaration of character, and a truth you and I must reckon with. Light comforts those in fear, disperses the darkness of depression, and warms the cold heart. Light is visible.  So are people with character.  They stand out among the crowd not just with their voices but, more importantly, with their lives. 

And character yields the great fruit of hope. 

Going Uphill: Perseverance

Not long after I arrived in NC to visit my family, my older sister called and mentioned a 5K, wondering if I would like to sign up for it. Sounds great, right? Well…yes. It is good exercise…a good time with the family…I get to wake up early in the morning…but the race was in two days and I have not trained or run for several weeks.  But for better or for worse I signed up for the race. 

The next morning, I dawned my running clothes and started to jog out into the unfamiliar NC suburban sidewalks.  It was flat for a while. I turned onto another road and then another until I finally reached a little hill.  The hill was nothing to boast about. It was a gradual hill but not very steep or long. 

My mind went back to the hills I ran on while training for the half marathon last summer. I made it up all of them but one, my own ‘heartbreak hill.’  It was on my 8 miles loop across the Pennsylvania countryside where I passed horses, cattle, farms, and tucked away houses in the woods.  Running one way, which took me down the hill, I could complete the 8 miles without walking.  Running the other way, however, was a different story.  I would hit my ‘heartbreak hill’ about mile six, inevitably stop and walk the rest of the way up. The hill was steep, intimidating for a runner, and saturated my legs with pain as I ran up it.  Don’t get me wrong.  I didn’t come to the hill and just stop. I would give it my best.  I broke the hill into different segments in my mind.  Segments 1-2 were sort of gradual, section 3 began a steeper incline, and sections 4-5 were just plain steep. I usually could make it up to section 4 before my legs caught on fire. No pain—no gain, right? On one occasion when I almost made it up, I stopped, walked down the hill and tried again—I did this about four different times that day just trying to make it up!  

 Despite wrestling with my ‘heartbreak hill,’ it did something for me that I couldn’t see at the time. While I focused on trying to conquer the hill and just push through it, this hill developed a very important characteristic in me. The hill yielded perseverance in me.  This is something that I could not learn in the flatlands unless I ran greater distances.  So even though the most I ran at once was 8 miles, when the half marathon came (13.2 miles), I was able to run the race and finish well (if you would like to read about that experience it is my first blog entry).  Hills are important because they teach perseverance, the patient, stick-to-it attitude that refuses to give up and clings to faith, hope and joy.

The same is true in a different race, the one we run everyday of our lives whether we realize it or not. Only these hills are different.  They are not the steep inclines on roads but rather the inclines of adversity, trials and sufferings of various kinds.  They range from health hijacks to spouse skirmishes and from work wars to the crazy child rearing years.  Add into this mixture bouts of depression, fears of the future, anxieties with finances, and our own spiritual struggles to pray and obey and we quickly understand adversities, trials and sufferings of various kinds. Yet according to God’s word, they develop perseverance within us.

“We know that suffering produces perseverance,” the Apostle Paul writes (Romans 5:3). 

 And he of all people should know.

While we read his story in the book of Acts, he writes an autobiography of his sufferings and weaknesses in 2 Corinthians 11:23-27 to combat the ‘super’ but false leaders of his day.

“I have worked much harder,” he begins. “Been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. Five times I received from the Jews forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was pelted with stones, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea. I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers…bandits…fellow Jews…Gentiles; in danger in the city…the country…at sea…I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.”

Chances are your autobiography of sufferings does not sound as grand.  Neither does mine.  Compared to Paul’s list of ‘sufferings,’ mine is fairly plain. Other then occasionally ‘being on the move,’ my life has never been endangered by bandits, my fellow countrymen or churchgoers and I have never faced death like Paul in prison or the open sea. Nor have I ever been flogged for my faith, chained for the Christ or stoned for the Savior.  I wonder, then, am I missing something about Christianity?  Is my faith to tame? Curious thought.

But I do not want to minimize your losses, illnesses, heartbreaks, heartaches and troubles at work, home or in the church.  For these also encompass sufferings and the ‘trials of many kinds’ that test our faith (James 1:2-3).  As a result, they develop perseverance in our lives.  They teach us to plug away at something with patience despite the obstacles, journey through the valleys with joy despite the sorrowful setbacks, and endure the race despite the hurdles set in our track.     

Paul endured many of them and thus earned his doctorate degree in them.  So we can sit in his classroom and learn from a distinguished sufferer.  He knew that sufferings of all kinds produce perseverance in him, this dogged perseverance that would not falter or fade from his desire to finish well. 

 We observe this in the book of Acts.  We watch him rise, bruised and bloodied, after his enemies stone him and then, utterly to our surprise, he goes back into the city (Acts 14:19-20)! We eavesdrop into a dimly lit dungeon where Paul and his companion Silas are fastened in stocks and hear them worship God instead of worry or complain (16:24-25). We catch a glimpse of his passion as he declares to the Ephesians, “However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace” (20:24).  And hear his sorrow when he tells those who tried to stop him from going forward: “Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.” Then we watch his arrest, further imprisonment, his defense, his transportation to Rome and a shipwreck.  All the while he perseveres.  He sticks to his task despite horrendous opposition against him closer then a dog sticks to its bone.

So it begs a big question. Why?  Why did he continue to persevere?  According to behavioral psychology, he should have learned to take the easy road and to avoid suffering.  Instead, he did the opposite.  He continued to share the gospel in every city despite opposition, persecution, adversity, trials and sufferings.  He was either a lunatic, insane for pursuing the gospel, or he knew what was ultimately at the end. So why?  And why do we persevere? What is the end, if any, of persevering through suffering?

More to come... 

Coming Back from Camp

Camp came to a close on Friday. I had a few more opportunities with D-n to share God’s word with him. At the beginning of the week, they gave each camper a Bible. I took this and underlined some of the verses we talked about the day before and others including John 3:16.

But all too soon, after chapel and lunch, we loaded the buses and returned back over the same scenic route from whence we came.  Only this time my mind was not filled with anxieties about what would take place but good, rich memories with God, counselors and campers.  

But still we returned.  We returned to the city where gas was $3.49, the streets where busy cars bustled about, and back to…well, back to life before camp.  It almost felt foreign in a way. 

Life was simple and much more focused at camp. 

 

My mind recalled a letter read by the camp director, Joel, sometime during the week. It was a letter by a former counselor from another Royal Family Kids Camp. While I do not remember the exact quote, at some point the counselor contrasted his life at camp verses his life back where he lived. He had made the discovery that the real life was at camp, ministering to the kids.

I knew what he meant.  I have experienced it several times in my life. Guinea. India. France. Camps. I would travel on mission trips or go to camp to serve and help other people or teach or counsel kids at camp—ultimately for the love of Christ. Then it ends and I return back to the previous ‘life.’  Life before the mission’s trip, life before camp—God impacted me throughout the experiences there but I always returned. 

And I feel very much like an apple on a freeway!  Frodo said it best in the third Lord of the Rings trilogy: the Return of the King. “There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire (Frodo’s home), it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same.”  Something during our journey transforms us. We are different. We are individuals who have tasted the depths of God and his kingdom, only to return to a fast paced, often times shallow society, where the common talk of weather and television shows pervade.  And we often yearn in the nights for those days to come again. 

Those who go and serve in such a way understand this.  God brings them to a mountaintop, lets them behold his glory, refines them, and speaks to them. Then when they return they find things different, not because of drastic changes in their home surroundings but because of the tremendous transformation in their own lives.

Yet God gives all who will go and then return a wonderful challenge. He desires us to be agents of God’s transforming grace in our lives when we return.  Perhaps the Lord's words to us are the ones he instructed the man freed from demon-possession.  The man wanted to accompany Jesus and his disciples but the Lord forbade him. "Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you."  He desires that we take the mountaintop glories we catch and share with others.   

Let us pray then.  Let us work and minister to the people around us ‘because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).       

Till next time...carry on.

I want to acknowledge that all these camp stories are through my eyes.  There are others that took place with other counselors but they must tell their own stories—and I’d encourage them to do so!

While this year’s camp stories and lessons are done, there are other stories and lessons that must be written—so stay tuned!   

The Talent Show

The theme for this week’s camp was Construction Zone.  It focused on building a solid foundation on Jesus, establishing the walls of prayer and God’s Word, which then leads to having a ‘future and hope’ (Jeremiah 29:11).  When D-n first saw the construction skit he wanted to be part of the skit.  “Do you want to be part of the talent show?” I asked.

“I want to be a construction worker,” he replied.

Throughout the week as he watched skits, his ideas changed and morphed like the Erie weather.  I confess that I was at a loss and even a little frustrated.  Not at D-n per se but more at myself for my own inadequacy at trying to help him out. 

Despite my weakness, God blessed 30/30 time.  At the beginning of the week, the counselors were given a sheet of paper that began with ‘Dear God.’ During our 30/30 times we were to have our campers fill this out.  I gave this to D-n.

While D-y did not want to do this, D-n asked if I could write the prayer out for him.  So he dictated and I wrote.  His prayer went something like this: “I promise I will not be bad anymore. I will try to be good. I will see you. I will be with you.”  As he dictated, I made a comment and said, “Do you know that God is with you?”

I took him to the end of Revelation where it reads: “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them.  They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.”  D-n wanted to read some verses so he read the part about God wiping away our tears and how there will be no more pain or death.  I then led him to Psalm 139 and had him read verses 13-14: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

“Do you know what this means?” I asked.

He shook his head in response.

”This means that God created you very special, very unique.  There is no one like you.” I responded.

He scrunched up his face, pondering this.  “I always thought the devil made me,” he replied.

Where he got this idea from I do not know.  “No,” I began. “The devil didn’t make you. He kills, steals and destroys. He is out to get you.  But God is good.  God made you for a purpose.” 

He wanted to read more verses but I looked up and noticed that D-y was gone.  He was just up the path with another group but this brought our time to a close.  But the seed planted in D-n’s heart stayed for he suddenly had a desire to read God’s word.  His heart was beginning to open and soften.

But the talent show still loomed. During the afternoon, he then had an idea to be Mr. Science.  I talked with John, who acted as Mr. Science and he gave some helpful suggestions.  He reminded me that it is all about the kids and sometimes you just have to go with the flow!  This was the best advice to me at this moment. I fretted over something that was designed to be fun for the campers and counselors.  While I had my own idea in the back of my head, D-n had his.  And so we went with his, even though I began to understand a little about what would be required of me.

And so later that evening I stood in a white jump suit with painted nails, holding a cup full of soapy water and dish detergent.  “Drink Shven,” D-n said.

I raised the cup to the air as with a toast. “Se la vie. Zie Jesus!” 

Then I chugged the cup down to the dregs in the midst of ‘ewws’ and ‘yucks’ from the crowd.  The soapy water was not too bad but the dish detergent that settled on the bottom of the cup stung the back of my throat. I stood there wondering what this was going too do to me while D-n finished his skit.  The audience cheered for him and when our skit was done, I went back and got a glass of water.

“Are you okay?” Some of the staff asked.

“Yeah.” I replied, even though my tummy felt more then a little turbulent.  I swished my mouth out with water but could still taste the soap, which is not a very pleasant taste.

After the talent show and during our break, I retreated to the basketball court under a starry night.  The Milky Way was brushed across the diamond-scattered black velvet sky.  Beautiful! It was so peaceful but my tummy was all but not.  I sat down on the court but the taste of soap finally overpowered me.  There I retched.  First a dry heave.  Then the second time something came up in the dark. 

I sat there, exhausted from the week and weary now in body.  All I wanted to do was lay down and gaze at the stars.  Why was I doing this?  Was it just for the kids or was there a deeper meaning to all that took place?

Then the question came.  A whisper from beyond the shadow of the stars blew gently into my wondering heart. “How far will you go for me?”

How far will I go for Him?  Ah…that is the question.  Am I willing to humble my masculine pride so two little girls are able to paint my nails and smile?  Do I drink soapy water and dish detergent only later to retch in the dark so that my camper would somehow catch a glimpse of Christ’s love?  How far will I go to show the love of Christ to these little children? 

How far did my fellow counselors go for Him? They ate chocolate covered onions and hot dogs just to bring a smile on a child who may not have a lot of laughter and joy in his/her life. My fellow female counselors and staff risked a plague of lice as they plucked through hair—all this to show the tender love of Christ to these children. Some of them gave up their vacations and pay to spend a week with these children—they looked heavenward for their eternal reward.  We endured lack of sleep, sunburn and weary hours just to bring hope to a child.  How far do we go for the One who said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life?”

How far will I go for Him? How far will you? 

Of Worm Guts, Painted Nails and Stars

During our counselor training at the end of June, they informed us that Wednesday would be a challenging day. Lack of sleep, living in close quarters, stressful conditions might join together and wear on your nerves.  Easily understood.  While I may not have nerves of steel like Superman, I think God protected my nerves and granted my fellow counselors and I a special outpouring of His Spirit through prayer. At least in my cabin, I did not see anyone get on anyone else’s nerves.  We were fatigued but we were also equally excited about interacting with the kids! 

So after breakfast club, the morning chapel and the counselors’ morning break, Tom H. and I with our campers went on the fishing trip.  On the bus ride out we sang a mixture of spiritual and silly songs ranging from Veggie Tale songs to camp songs to a handful of other ones that I did not know.  During our journey out there is when I met a little girl named E-.  She sat in front of me and at some point I began to tell her a story about an eagle named Everett, which is a good story but not well known since I haven’t written it yet. She listened intently and after the story, asked if I would tell her a ghost story.

Hmm…a ghost story? Should I try to do this?  And if so how do I redeem it?  It was a simple story of a ghost who lived alone. Everyone was afraid of it except E-.  E- befriended the ghost because she wasn’t scared.  They had a picnic together and E- ate her favorite food, chicken nuggets and chocolate milk, while the ghost ate ghost chicken nuggets and ghost chocolate milk.  Later during our campfire, she came over to me and asked if I could play with her.  “Nobody else is playing with me.”  And I wondered if she was like the ghost in the story, invisible to people and desperately wanting a friend in life.  So another female counselor and I then played catch with her. 

 We finally arrived at a little pond somewhere in the middle of the Pennsylvania wilderness.  Here we gave the children fishing poles and they stood at the edge of the pond and began to fish.  I took a long, slimy night crawler from the little plastic cup, ripped it in half because it was bigger then the hook, and stuck it on D-n and D-y’s fishing rods.  Within a little bit D-n caught a small bluegill!  He reeled it in, pulled it up out of the water, and onto the shore where it got unhooked and flopped around a little bit.  He glowed with excitement! I picked the slimy thing up and held it next to him for a picture.  Then with a mighty heave I tossed him out into the pond. 

D-y also caught a fish, slightly smaller then D-n’s. This one also got unhooked on land and flopped around a little bit until I picked it up.  Another picture was taken with him.

We left with success. When we left all the counselors and staff had dirt, worm guts and fish slime on their hands now smelly hands while most of the children had fond memories of catching a fish.

After we arrived back and ate lunch, we had 30/30 time.  This is the down time during the day where you are supposed to try and make spiritual conversations happen.  Nothing emerged on either Tuesday or Wednesday. I was beginning to wonder if I would but God would soon prove faithful in this matter.  

I think it was during our craft time in the afternoon Tom G. came over to me with his nails painted.  “The girls want all the male counselors in the older boys cabin to have their nails done,” he said.

“If a little girl comes over and asks me,” I replied, “then I will let her paint them.”  I was not exactly sure I wanted them done but was willing to make the sacrifice if a little girl asked me.

And sure enough, twenty seconds after I said it, a little girl came over and wanted to paint my nails.  I remember this somewhat vividly because it was my first time doing this. I hope you will laugh along with me as I sat down and had two little girls ‘do’ my nails.  C- sat down and took a pink bottle of nail polish and smeared it on.  A few seconds later, E- came over and assisted with my other hand.  She put on a bright blue.  C- then decided to put on sparkles over the pink while E- put a variety of red, pink and purple polka dots over the blue.

After they were done I was instructed to ‘let them dry.’  One of the female counselors, I believe it was Tom G.’s wife, said, “You know sparkles are hard to get off.”

Well, no, I actually didn’t know this and would soon discover the truth in what she said.

Brittany and another girl said, “I just can’t take you serious with your nails painted.”

“Yeah. Neither can I,” I replied.  And I admit it was hard to at this point. 

So why do I have painted nails?  Why am I making a near fool of myself? 

Alas, I will need to keep you in suspense a little bit longer.

During the ‘Beyah Beyah’ competition of adventure place (a competition between male and female counselors—more to make us look silly for the kids) the four counselors had to eat chocolate covered surprises: chocolate covered onions, hot dogs and plums were among the stranger ones.  It was a tie!  To break the tie Mr. Science washed his beard in a cup of water near the end of adventure place and the counselors were made to drink it afterwards.  (I later heard that this water was changed to regular water).  I mention this because this event formed the idea in D-n’s mind for Shven (played by me) to drink liquid detergent for the talent show the following night. 

The day ended with an  display of stars scattered across the night sky!  Stars.  When was the last time I saw them in such a mighty array in the heavens?  During our evening break, I retreated to the basketball court, laid down on it, and gazed at the stars. “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him or the son of man that you care for him?”  Yet we are told to cast all our cares upon Him because He cares for us!! Amazing thought!!

Wednesday was finished but in the back of my mind the talent show still loomed.  D-n wanted desperately to do something and I was running out of time and ideas.

To be continued…      

The Difference

While I have no children of my own, I remember someone once saying: “Raise your children the same way by treating each of them different” or something like that.  In other words what works for one will not necessarily work for the other one.  It is good advice for parents and anyone who works with children or teens. 

For me it was especially important because within the first few hours I quickly discovered that D-n and D-y were very different.  D-n wanted me to watch and help him in whatever he set his hand to.  So I sat next to him while he pounded nails into a plank of wood or helped him with crafts. D-y would often float from counselor to counselor or from project to project in the craft area. More then once I lost sight of him (though he was not far away and always with another counselor) and had to track him down. D-n wanted to try archery, go fishing, and take a hayride down a bumpy dirt path. D-y thought much was ‘boring’ but enjoyed the experience once he went.  Yet both had the same deep thirst for the love of God but needed it shown in different ways.

However, they both liked swimming—even the ‘polar bear swim’ at 7:15 in the morning!!  And when a chilly breeze blew over the pool on those mornings, I quickly understood why it was called the polar bear swim.  So every time my campers went into the swimming pool I jumped in as well, whether it was sunny and warm or cloudy and cool.

Monday ended with a rainstorm and Jungle Jerry giving his live animal presentation.  In the midst of joyful applause when the chinchilla made its appearance to a few fearful squeals when the snakes and scorpions went by, Jungle Jerry shared his wisdom about the animals.  Some noteworthy critters and memories: the soft but squishy tail of an alligator,the box turtle race (the girl turtle won), the little girl who stood on the back of a large turtle and ‘surfed,’ and the long yellowish Burmese Python. 

Tuesday morning came with the breakfast club at chapel and archery and crafts mid morning.  Here D-n shot a bow.  Two stuck in the ground several feet away but one arrow, shot from a different bow, made it a little beyond the target.  Later in the day, an hour before dinner, the sky grew dark and thunder rumbled in the distance. The girls quickly exited the pool and people began to head indoors for shelter.  My two campers and I were under the pavilion making crafts and hammering away at woodwork.  The wind picked up, the time between the lightning and thunder shortened, and within a few seconds the rain dashed against the ground in a rhythmic fury.  Then I noticed a small boy from the other boys’ cabin was crying. He wanted to run to the dining hall adjacent to the pavilion but he was scared. I removed my adventure hat, gave it to him and said, “This will keep you safe and dry.”

It worked.  He and his counselor ran towards the dining room, where the rest of us would quickly follow.  Now in case you are wondering, my adventure hat has no secret powers; rather the small gesture gave the boy courage to run through the rain. I suppose it made a small difference in his life that day.  But small things are not to be overlooked.  We are asked in Zechariah 4:10 “Who dares despise the day of small things?” And we are not to despise them for who knows what the Lord will do with them.  Small things done in the Spirit become big things in God’s economy. 

Anyway, for the next half hour or so until dinner I played the card game War with D-n and D-y.By the end of dinner, the storm blew away and the sun shone.  The fire department came, talked a little bit about what they do and then they sprayed the willing children and counselors with the fire hose.

Later that evening when my fellow counselors and I returned to Wesley cabin after our break, sometime around 10:30-11pm, many campers were still awake. One or two of the campers had a flashlight and shone them in the eyes of other campers.  This went on for a little while.  We tried to quiet them down a couple times but nothing worked. So finally I went in to try to quiet them down.  D-y said, “Tell us a bedtime story.” 

“What kind of story do you want me to tell?” I asked.

Different campers shouted out a couple different things: “Action. Battles. Adventure.”

I pulled my Bible from my satchel and thought of the myriad of battles that took place in the Scriptures—Joshua and Jericho, David and Goliath, King Jehoshaphat with an enemy army approaching, and many more.  Then to my surprise, D-y said, “Tell us the story about how Jesus died.” Gladly! I quickly turned to Matthew’s gospel and began to read, starting with the betrayal, through the crucifixion of Jesus, and ended after the resurrection.  When I reached the end, all of the campers except D-y were asleep. But even he had quieted down.  Gregg and Tom G. came into the room and I noticed they were praying over the campers. 

God’s word and prayer made the difference that evening. The dynamic duo soothed whatever anxieties or frustrations gripped their hearts.  God’s word calmed them down and prayer protected them.  We are wise to heed the dynamic duo in our own adult lives as well.  

So Tuesday ended on a positive but what about Wednesday? During training I heard hump day was one of the most challenging days of camp. So I braced myself for what was to come.

To be continued…

The Expendables

Wesley Cabin stood on the left side of a field, facing three other cabins. You entered into a common area with three offshoots: one directly in front to the kitchen, one to the right that led into a room with eight bunk beds, and one to the left that led into another room with several bunk beds.  The small bathrooms branched off from the bunk bed rooms.  This is where I would live for the next six days in community with six other counselors and twelve kids. I wondered how it would be since I have not had a roommate since my college days.

Whether it was the director’s choice or more coincidence, I do not know, but I was placed in a cabin with the older male counselors. And when I say ‘older’ I do not imply frailty or weakness, rather quite the opposite.  For throughout the ensuing week, I gained a deep respect for my fellow soldiers in Christ as we drank coffee together and read our Bibles in the early mornings, laughed together, conversed about life and prayed with each other about the campers and different situations.  We relied upon each other for wisdom, encouragement, and safety.  Though I was a stranger to all of them before the week began, I became part of a band of brothers united in the single cause of Christ to love these kids.  I became a fellow soldier with them in the desperate fight for the hearts of these young boys.  We became a fellowship to the point that when I returned to the apartment and sat alone on the couch at the end of the week, I said aloud, “Lord, I miss my brothers.”   

We might not have won a competition for the best decorated cabin (I think all of us would quickly admit that we are not the best interior decorators in the world) but we won the trust and hearts of the boys, something much more precious then treasures on earth. We might have been bald or seasoned with gray hairs but this was our crown of glory and splendor (Proverbs 16:31; 20:29).  We might have even been called the ‘Expendables’ by the younger staff (based on the movie) as we walked up to breakfast on the first day but we took it as a complement—it was all in good fun. We have waged spiritual battles in the past and we came together for this week to fight for the hearts and lives of these young boys.

So I am grateful for the company of Gregg, Tom G., Tom H., Burt, Mike and Sunny.

Someone once said that ‘a boy becomes a man in the company of men.’  Since the young boys (and girls) who come to Royal Family Kids Camp come from foster homes, they typically come from a broken home with a past loaded with unwanted baggage.  If any statistic is even distant to what is accurate, then chances are very good that none of them have a good father figure in their lives.  They may even cringe when it comes to being in the presence of a man.  Yet here is where the ‘Expendables’ came into action.

I watched Gregg and Tom G. faithfully arise early in the morning to read God’s word and pray for their campers.  A few campers occasionally made it up in the early mornings and witnessed this.  I observed the fatherly care of Tom H. to his two campers and watched them open to the light of God’s love in his life.  I heard Burt’s humor and watched how it brought a glimmer of hope and laughter to his campers. I listened to the intensity of Mike’s concern while I talked with him and listened to him pray for the campers. And Sunny, our alternate counselor, was willing to help out where he could. 

And so the ‘Expendables’ came alongside of the boys (and girls when opportunity presented itself) and became a father figure to them.  We sat next to the children as they pounded nails into wood, aided them to shoot with a bow and arrows, jumped in the swimming pool in the early mornings or afternoons and splashed around with them, placed worms on hooks for them to fish, sat next to them on hayrides and listened and talked with them during the few days we were with them.  We ate with them, cleaned up tables with them, and cheered them on during the talent show and so much more.

Never underestimate a godly man’s presence or words, no matter how old he is in earthly years.  For even though he may be old in earthly years, his heart beats with the youth of eternity.

But I must return to the story…
  
For the campers’ arrival, we made posters with their names on it.  While I have to be careful about privacy issues and the like I will simply call my two campers D-n and D-y.  Both of their names were not in the ‘Name Meaning’ book that the camp had so I had to exercise a little bit of creativity.  While I made D-n’s poster, I said his name meant, ‘Prince of the morning or beginning.’  I drew a sunrise on it and put a few Scripture verses on it. Later, I found out that his favorite color was red and I had put red in the sun.  D-y’s became ‘Prince of the day’ and drew mountains and a sun.

For D-y’s I drew a tree, mountains and a sun. One of the Scripture verses that I wrote on his was Ephesians 5:8 “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.”  The meaning of his name: ‘Prince of the Day.’

Monday morning arrived and like a thousand other counselors in a thousand other camps, we waited anxiously for our campers.  The morning hours quickly passed with learning camp songs and some time on the ropes course.  Then around noon we gathered near the entrance to the camp to cheer the children on as the bus rolled down the driveway. 

A red-velvet carpet stretched out before the entrance way to the bus.  In the midst of our cheers for these precious kids, the director announced each child with a megaphone as they stepped off of the bus.  D-n came off first and then D-y.  I greeted them and handed their poster to them.

Now we were ready to begin the week.

To be continued…

Two Questions

During the Thursday night talent show, the young boy of ten impersonated Mr. Science, the jolly, German accented teacher who taught the kids lessons of ‘Zie Jesus’ with science experiments during the week of camp.  As Beethoven’s music blared over the sound system he ran up and wrote the name ‘Mr. Science’ on the white board. “Hi kids,” he said with a child’s impersonation of Mr. Science’s accent.  He did very well at this.  After a few more words of ‘yah!’ and ‘hi kids,’ he then called Mr. Science’s faithful assistant, Shven to the front.  I ran up to the front dressed in a white jump suit with a small plastic cup of water and set it on the table, awaiting my orders.

“Where did you get your nails done?” he asked in the same accent.

In the best German accent I could muster up, I began, “Ah two little girls.” I glanced out in the crowd to see the two little girls stand and raise their hands with hopeful anticipation to be acknowledged for their wonderful salon style nail painting. “Miss C- and Miss E- painted them for me.”

The young boy then picked up a bottle of orange Ajax dish soap. “Zie Jesus!” he said.

The fellow counselors and kids in the audience replied, “Zie Jesus!”

I then watched as he squeezed the bottle over the small cup of water for about three or four seconds, maybe longer.  It was enough that some of the orange soap settled on the bottom of the cup and slightly raised the level of water.  I anticipated his next words.

“Drink Shven.” He said.

   

I picked up the cup and wondered if I’d be able to stomach it. Would I vomit right then and there or take a trip to the ER for my stomach to be pumped? I did not think it would kill me but who knew?

So how did I end up like this: dressed in a white jump suit with painted nails contemplating the side effects of drinking liquid dish detergent? 

But perhaps I should ask the more important question: why was I wearing a white jump suit with painted nails about to drink a cup full of water and dish detergent?

Two questions but different answers. One answer will tell the story while the other defines the heart.

How? and Why?  

But to answer these two questions I will have to take you back to the beginning of June where my co-worker, Brittany, shared with me about Royal Family Kids Camp. “It is a camp for foster kids,” she explained. “All the counselors cheer for the kids when the bus comes.  They even roll a red carpet down for the kids to walk on when they get off the bus.”  She shared a little bit more about the camp and asked if I would be interested in being a counselor. I replied, “Sure” with a vague concept of the intensity of the week.  But little did I know the patience, humility and love that would be required of me.

She sent a text to the camp director and a few weeks later I sat in the weekend sessions of counselor training near the end of June.  Sometime during the training I suddenly felt my own inadequacy for being a counselor at this camp.  Perhaps you have felt your own inadequacy at something—a flutter of the heart, a flush of the face and a constant wondering if you will have what it takes. 

I have worked with children before, even at a camp.  Some people even make a claim that I am good with them.  Someone once even called me the Pied Piper of children. But as I sat in this training, I knew in my heart that this would be different.  I could not rely on my past experiences with children, my little wit or any of my wisdom.  Those are all good aspects but in truth I would need to rely on something or rather Someone far greater then I for this.  I needed God and his power, his wisdom, and his love to see me through.

And so a few weeks later, I found myself with a bunch of other counselors and staff riding a yellow school bus for an hour/hour and a half.  During our journey I gazed out the window at a town fair, farmhouses with pasture lands and gentle hills all the while wondering what I got myself into. Finally our bus turned onto a bumpy, dirt road that led to the camp.

We were finally here.  We unloaded our luggage and supplies and prepared for the campers' arrival the next day.

To be continued…