Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Ch 23

A camp story

One of my Young Life girls called me when I was on my way back to camp from a night off. "Do you remember the club talk this semester when we got rocks after hearing the story about the woman that was almost stoned? Remember how we took rocks with us that night? I've kept mine this whole time but I finally got rid of it. Tonight I walked out on the pier on Lake Michigan and I threw it out into the water. I'm done with it. Sarah, God is so awesome right now. I just had to call you," she said.

Our rocks represented something that was weighing us down, holding us back from really having freedom in Christ. Kelsey had been struggling with her unhealthy relationship with her boyfriend all year. We'd been talking and praying about what she should do. Tonight she was ready to be done with it. She wasn't going to let it control her anymore.

As we drove the country roads back to camp my friend searched through his iPod for a song. "You've got to hear it," he kept saying. The screen was broken so we couldn't see which song or album was selected. He clicked through song after song, listening to the first three seconds before moving on to the next one. I thought he should give up but he was adamant about finding this song. When we were about five miles away from camp's entrance he found it. There was just enough time to listen. The song, "Finish Last" by Stellar Kart was one of my favorites.

People change and plans get changed and
Everything changes but You
Everybody moves around and
Everything gets pushed around but You
You always stay the same, stay the same

I want to finish last
Last in the world's eyes
No matter what I do
I will be first in your eyes

I am running in this race and
I am pressing onwards towards the finish line
You have promised me a better life
Far beyond this world, far beyond this place and time

As I walked back to my cabin that night I realized there was a connection between Kelsey's story, the song we'd been searching for, and the lives of the girls that were in my cabin this week. I'd been trying to figure out a new devotion to do with them and here God had placed this story and song right in front of me.

...

I collected a pile of rocks from around the Longhouse before it got dark the next night. I stacked them in a pile between the candles in the center of the room. When it was time, I lit the candles and the Choctaw girls sat down in a circle. Some nights I am extra aware of the peaceful, calm of devotions--this time has such a different feel than the rest of the day. Tonight I took deep breath as that stillness filled the room.

There is a story in the Bible about a woman caught in adultery. A crowd of people were about to stone her to death when they asked Jesus what they should do. He took the attention off of the woman by kneeling down and drawing in the sand--everyone's eyes were on him. "Let anyone who is without sin be the first to throw a stone," he finally said to them. Slowly, everyone dropped their stone and walked away.

We all have stones. We all have rocks that represent the struggles, challenges, and regrets in our lives. The eleven of us sat in that circle and were honest and vulnerable with each other. I had known many of these girls through camp for years. Even though I already know so much of their stories my heart broke when they each talked about what they were dealing with. Looking around the circle, I could see that it was difficult for everyone to hear these stories but they nodded their heads as each girl spoke because these were familiar stories.

Camp is a safe place for so many of the kids that come each summer. When they share these stories with each other they discover that they're not alone. This vulnerability allows them to build honest, authentic friendships that may be hard to find back home. Here we learn not just how to share our own lives but how to really listen to each other. My hope is that everyone would be accepted regardless of their past.

That night these fifteen-year-old girls talked about how they deal with the pressures to drink, to look a certain way, to get perfect grades, to be the best in every sport. They shared how they have been talked about and left behind by people they thought were their best friends. They've felt judged and stereotyped. Some of their families have broken up, they've had people they love die, and dated people that weren't good for them. With each story they shared the pattern that life is really hard became more obvious. We live in a broken world. But there is hope in knowing that we are not alone. There is hope that life can be better than all of that. That we have a God that is bigger than all of that pain.

Before I play "Finish Last" I talk about why I love this song. I've seen people unexpectedly change and I've felt the disappointment of things not going the way I hoped. But I believe it's true that Christ will not change and he is the one thing that I can depend on. I want to live my life running after him and leaving everything else behind. "While we listen to the song," I tell the girls, "I want you to think about what is the rock in your life that is holding you back. When you know, you can get a rock from the center of the circle." I hit play and the notes expand and fill the room. We are each lost in our own thoughts. I take a deep breath and silently pray for these girls. Sometimes they seem loud, confident, and brave, but now, sitting cross-legged with their heads resting in their hands they seem small and fragile. While we listen, they take turns crawling forward to take a rock from the pile and sit back down again.

"We're going to stand and line up at the door. Hold hands in a long chain and bring your rock with you." I blow out the candles and then walk through the dark to the back door of the cabin. "Follow me girls. We're still doing devotions so stay silent as we walk."

All of camp is quiet. The moon lights our path and we pass a couple cabins. Counselors are sitting on their picnic tables, writing letters or working on friendship bracelets in the glow of the porch lights. They look up when they hear our flip-flops on the rocks and then go back to work. I slow down when we start to walk down a hill in the woods. We come through the trees and stop on the sandy shore of the River. I line up the girls single file along the water and then step back.

"I'm going to pray for us in a minute. When you're ready I want you to throw your rock into the River. Just like Kelsey threw away her rock in Lake Michigan we're going to do that here tonight. Dear God..." I chuck my rock as far out as I can and breath a sigh of relief for letting it go and then keep praying. As I talk the girls throw their rocks and we can hear each splash. The moon is full tonight and it covers the water and trees with yellow light. "Amen."

"You can stay here to think or pray as long as you want. I'll wait. When you're finished you can walk back to the cabin and go to sleep." We rarely come here but tonight we let ourselves get lost in the stars and the wind. The river curves just to our left and we see the water disappear behind the giant trees. After a few minutes one of the girls turns around to leave. I hug her before she goes back up the hill to our cabin. I lose track of time as I stand there in the dark watching the silhouettes of these girls. I say good night to them as they head back alone or in pairs. We're used to rushing through things, but tonight we have the space and time to just be here and think and pray. A few of them are crying and many of them are standing holding hands. A long time later I go with the last girl and we whisper together as we walk back to the cabin.

Opening the door silently, to not wake anyone up, we creep inside. The light from the hallway cuts into the cabin and I see five girls huddled together on one bunk. "Can we got out on the porch and talk?" they ask. Even though we should be asleep by now, we go out onto the wood plank porch and sit in a circle again for the second time tonight. It's late but this is one of my favorite parts of being a counselor. These conversations are worth being tired tomorrow morning.

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