I began my first camp of the summer with equal parts apprehension and excitement.
I didn’t grow up attending church camps, so I didn’t have an idea of how they usually went. There was the added anxiety of teaching a workshop on peace and justice that I had only said out loud to myself as I paced around my room. Despite all of this, I felt ready to dive into the summer and to build whatever new connections came my way.
On the day before campers arrived, I was driven to Tall Oaks by Anna, the camp director. We got Cain’s for dinner on the way (my first Cain’s experience!) and after a quick tour of the beautiful campus, we had a chill evening hanging out with the counselors and the members of the Regional Youth Cabinet who had an integral role in the leadership at camp. Everyone was so kind and welcoming to me, as I was the only person who hadn’t been to Tall Oaks before, and didn’t even attend Disciples camps as a kid! I finally got to meet Lara Blackwood-Pickrel, who happened to attend camp with my parents when they were all growing up and was serving as the camp chaplain. I already felt at home because I had this connection. I chatted with her and her husband Chuck. Both of them quickly became people I knew I could trust, while being delightful and funny at the same time.
Each and every one of the other counselors were wonderful too, and it was clear to me how connected they all were, by past camp experiences and by their everyday experiences as friends, too. I roomed with Abbey, who was full of insight about camp and was able to ease some of my anxieties about the coming days. The amount of hospitality I received from everyone on the first day, and for the rest of camp, was a blessing!
Getting to know the campers at Tall Oaks was another incredible blessing. Being in their presence and witnessing the ways that they were living out the Gospel in their everyday lives was truly life-changing. I was particularly impacted by the campers in the small group I was assigned to. One of the conversations we had was about doubting one’s faith. A camper confessed to not knowing if they believed in God, having not had one of those “Big God Moments” that everyone talks about. This led to a discussion about the ways God is different for everyone—the way that God can exist as a gendered entity or more of a force of love and connection, and all the iterations in between.
We also talked about doubting and how it is an essential part of faith. Some people might tell you that if you do not have complete faith in God, you are not a real Christian. But in fact, doubt is something that we need in order to be in our continuing relationship with God. It allows us to have control of what we want to believe, and it also tells us that we can always change our beliefs. It is a tool used for new explorations of ourselves, rather than a hindrance that stops us from believing altogether. In each moment that we question God, we are bringing ourselves closer to our understanding of God. Seeing campers discuss this—even when they disagreed with each other on some points—was inspiring.
On the third night of camp, we walked to Inspiration Point, a place that I’d heard campers talking about all week. Anna and Lara had showed me the fireflies of Tall Oaks on my first night staying on campus, promising me that I would see many more at I.P. This was the first week of my life seeing fireflies, because we don’t really have them in Oregon where I’m from. As we got closer to I.P. on the third night, I began to see how many were lighting up the trees and the grass. They flickered on and off in dazzling gold, the sight of them backed by the gentle hum of cicadas. As I craned my neck, I saw the stars of the clearest sky I had seen in a while. We reached I.P., which consisted of a half circle of benches, a table for communion, and a sturdy cross standing in front of the oak trees. A fire was lit and we worshipped together. It was one of the most sacred services I had experienced in a while.
When it was time to leave worship, I hung back as the campers headed to their cabins. I walked along the dark wooded path, craning my neck to look at the fireflies again. I found myself in tears as I watched them blinking on and off, moving with a joyful fervency that made me wonder if they were in worship too. I felt fully connected to the the Holy Spirit in this moment, and my tears were ones of gratitude and pure happiness.
The lifespan of an adult firefly is approximately sixty-one days. This gives them just long enough to reproduce. They use a language of light to communicate with each other, flashing constantly as soon as dusk arrives. As I walked further along the path, I thought about the impermanence of the fireflies. They live for such a fleeting period of time, yet bring overwhelming beauty to the world. It takes a kind of complete stillness to appreciate them. If only we could be so still for more of the time. If only we could come to a complete stop and find ourselves amidst those fleeting lights that life offers. I think these moments are where God is found most often.
We get to exist on this earth for much longer than the fireflies, but we are also impermanent. Another question one of my small group campers asked was: What do you think happens after we die? This is, of course, one of the most-asked questions of humanity in general, but it’s an especially weighted question for us people of faith. Some campers didn’t believe in heaven or hell, some campers believed in reincarnation, and others had no clue at all. The conclusion we came to was that even if there is nothing after death, we should try to live our lives trying to create as much heaven on earth as we can. This means reaching out to those less fortunate than us. This means having difficult conversations with those we don’t agree with. And it means taking in all the precious moments we have to be with each other and with God.
On the fourth day of camp, I taught my workshop on Palestine for the first time. I was nervous, partly because speaking in front a group always feels vulnerable and partly because I wasn’t sure what the response to the topic would be. I’ve had several difficult conversations with peers and classmates back home, and while I knew this would undoubtedly happen over my Peace Intern summer, I wasn’t sure how well-equipped I was to start off in this way. But the campers I talked to surprised with me with the wealth of knowledge they already had about the history of how Palestinians have been oppressed, and this is largely due to the amazing work that former Peace Intern Marci Mazza-Fredley did last year to bring awareness to them. We had an open conversation about how we can find hope and advocate for peace while living in a country that perpetuates violence. We ended with an art project I’m bringing to each camp this summer: each camper made a prayer flag for the people of Palestine. When I go home, I’m going to hang them all up in the highest place I can find, as a reminder of the hope and resistance that we must uphold in a world that tells us peace is impossible.
Seeing the ways each young person expressed how they wanted to pray for Palestine made my chest swell with emotion, just as it had when I witnessed the fireflies. Each flag placed in front of me represented another one of those little moments where God was present. I looked at the small group of campers gathered around me. I was in awe of their wisdom, compassion, and creativity. If the whole world could be like these youth, I have no doubt that the world would come to peace much sooner. It’s been nearly a week since I left Tall Oaks, but I think I’ll be holding a piece of it in my heart forever. The community and creation at camp encouraged me to slow down, to look and listen for God on literal walks and on the metaphorical walk of my life.
Dear reader, I encourage you to go out into the world to be a light. I promise that whoever needs that light will find it, and that you will find the light you need, too. May it be so.
