work

I cannot claim to be particularly wise or particularly intelligent. I cannot claim to be especially artistic or charismatic or beautiful or driven. In fact—at this point in my life, I'm not sure if I can claim to be much of anything or anyone at all.

God is doing His work in me.

I am sure that He's still got a lot to do.

together

selfless and unconditional love. simply and heartbreakingly beautiful.

summer

I want to write so badly about the experience I shared with 40+ staffers at Camp Willow Run this summer, but I fear that by attempting to recapture the summer with words, I will skew the glimpse of Glory I've seen, muddling it with poor descriptions of some of the most beautiful moments I have ever witnessed. It breaks my heart to know that no matter how long I spend trying to choose just the right words to put in this post to convey exactly how this summer has impacted me, I won't be able to do it. There is no way that I can type out all of the good memories and lessons learned and sorrows and joys and fears and realities.

So I sit, trying to come up with something to share with the blogging community and something to leave for myself to remember the summer by. The longer I wait to write, the less real my memories of the past few months will be.

I could write about my summer from so many angles—talk about the things I've learned, the ways I've changed, the memories of summer that I wish wouldn't fade like sun-bleached construction paper sign on the door of my boxcar.

There is so much I want to share, but what I must share is this: the Lord was working this summer at Camp Willow Run. Hearts were touched and souls were stirred. I learned the power of The Word. I learned the freedom in humility. I learned the joy that comes from Truth.

I learned that there is nothing good apart from God and that those who earnestly seek him will be shown his Glory.

So I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned in awe of the One who gave it all. I'll stand; my soul, Lord, to You surrendered. All I am is Yours.

inside

The Folks Inside

Shel Silverstein

Inside you, boy,

There's an old man sleepin',

Dreamin', waitin' for his chance.

Inside you, girl,

There's an old lady dozin',

Wantin' to show you a slower dance.

So keep on playin',

Keep on runnin',

Keep on jumpin', 'til the day

That those old folks

Down inside you

Wake up . . . and come out to play.

tips

I am sitting on the floor of a finished-out boxcar 100 yards from the shore of Lake Gaston. Nine rising 9th graders are snoring just feet from me and I can't sleep. I'm seven weeks into camp and for a brief moment I am able to stop and reflect on what I've learned since I arrived here on May 20th. My own mid-summer meeting of sorts.

+ Don't steal someone's debit card unless you're absolutely positive that you're not going to lose it on the floor of Wal-mart.

+ Fitting 7 college-age people in a 4-door sedan is possible, but numb legs are to be expected after riding for 45 minutes with 16 limbs crammed in a space meant for 12.

+ Wearing sunscreen can help prevent burning.

+ You should always make sure that your sunscreen is waterproof.

+ Sometimes sunscreen doesn't really prevent burning at all. Even if if is waterproof.

+ Sour patch [children] taste better at camp.

+ "Dropping the Bible hurts God sometimes."

+ Even girls sweat when it's 102° outside. Really, girls can sweat a lot.

+ Thinking of a purple elephant for a few seconds can cure hiccups.

+ Thinking of a purple elephant cannot, however, cure homesickness; you'll just end up imagining your parents riding the purple elephant which makes you miss them more.

+ Toy Story 3 is a phenomenal movie and I should buy it as soon as it comes out on DVD.

+ Homesickness doesn't go away as you get older—you just get better at dealing with it.

+ In amazing ways, God provides patience when you ask him for it.

+ Trying to clean mud out of your ears with a Q-tip is not a great idea; you'll probably just end up pushing the dirt farther back into your head and never be able to hear again.

+ Super Wal-Mart contains everything you could ever imagine to need while working at a summer camp. And most of those things are $5 or less.

Three weeks left. God is working here and I am so excited to see what else he will do.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!...

Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Psalm 34

strikes

Barefoot, I walk along squares of pavement.

Dodging twigs and fallen leaves

and stepping over cracks,

I make my way to the beach.

I pause for a moment

where the sidewalk ends

and then continue forward,

treading lightly upon ground

already jeweled with the dew of early morning hours.

Under my feet

the wet grass turns to

soft sand and then to

cool, wooden planks.

As expected,

no one has come

to the dock

to watch

the storm traverse the water.

So my legs carry me the length

of the pier

and bring me to halt

at the very edge.

I stand

still and quiet there

overlooking the dark water,

knowing that I am

a part of something

more frightening and mighty

than I could ever imagine.

The proof is in the storm

I've come to witness

move slowly over the lake.

For what seems

like hours

I watch the clouds light up

above the earth.

After each thunder clap

I wait for a new bolt to

splinter through the sky.

My eyes strain to stay open;

I cannot blink for fear of

missing a spark of electricity streak through air

to confuse the darkness,

turning it to daylight

for a moment.

I see a bolt strike ground

far away

and fix my eyes to the spot,

searching the black horizon for another white crack

in the night sky.

Again it strikes

and I wonder

who else saw.

Time passes and

my eyes grow weary;

my lids fighting

the weight of my eyelashes.

I do not want to shut them,

but before long

they are closed

and I am asleep.

training

Abigail

Her thin legs knock together and

her slender arms shiver.

Her tiny toes,

papaya-pink polish glossing each nail,

grip the edge of the wooden plank.

Her brand new blue bathing suit is dry

and her hair is pulled

tightly into a long, brown ponytail.

Her wide, green eyes

stare

past the edge of the dock,

and out onto the placid lake.

She is calculating.

What sensation lies underneath the glassy surface that separates air from water?

Her freckled face tenses.

Eyes clamp shut,

lips seal tight.

Deep breath.

Knees bend.

A leap.

A splash.

Nothing for a moment

and then,

as she emerges from underneath,

a gasp of breath.

She is alive.

Thaddeus

A young boy’s nose pressed up against the window screen—

his tiny awestruck face is illuminated by blue lightning across the water.

His eyes are bright

with wonder.

The sky lights up again.

Another bolt cracks

through the cloudy night.

Romans

Marching down the pathway—

into the trees,

the ground

littered with debris

from last night’s storm—

he comes

wielding

a plain, blunt shovel.

A black snake,

likely displaced

by the wind

that blew through

the wooded peninsula,

is poised to strike.

The man raises the shovel

above his head

and the dull metal glints

for a moment

as he begins to speak.

"Lunch will be at

twelve-fifteen."

The snake halts,

frozen

at his feet.

"Romans eight.

For the creation was subjected to futility,

not willingly,"

He quickly and accurately

lowers the

spade, crushing

the head of the

serpent.

"but because of him

who subjected it,

in hope that the creation itself

will be set free"

The shovel sinks

through the snake's flesh.

It writhes on the ground—

contorting—

limp for a moment

and then stiffened throughout.

"from its bondage to corruption

and obtain the freedom

of the glory

of the children

of God."

Its body shoots upward,

curling rapidly around

the handle.

Grasping for life

that is slowly

slipping away.

Its final battle against

metal and wood and man—

futile.

"For we know that the whole creation

has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.

And not only the creation,

but we ourselves,

who have the firstfruits of the Spirit,

groan

inwardly

as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons,

the redemption of our bodies."

The serpent is dead.

Its loss is His victory.