I was reading a former boss, and friend's blog this morning and he had written about going to a Christian writers conference at a retreat center in the mountains of North Carolina. His blog post got me to thinking about the time I spent at Camp Sumatanga when I was younger.
Camp Sumatanga is a United Methodist owned and sponsored camp in the lower Appalachian mountains several miles from my home. I started going there the summer before my freshman year of high school expecting the usual "Church Camp" stuff. You probably know what I mean by that. I was expecting to be beat over the head with the "30 pound Bible on a stick" but in such a way that we were having "fun" and by "fun" I mean we would be forced into silly activities and games that would make us look like complete dorks.
Well, I guess to some extent that was true... at least my first day or so there. We did play some games and were forced into activities like dancing (I know.. Methodists...) to some silly songs and doing hand motions during the songs at "service" times.
What I didn't expect was that we would dive into really loving God and finding him in the quiet that made up a large portion of every day. Every morning at 6:00 am the music played over the camp to wake us up so we could get a shower and be ready to eat at 6:30 (NEVER... I repeat NEVER eat the eggs at breakfast.) 6:00 am. Who were they kidding? IT'S SUMMER! I'm not supposed to be up at 6:00 am! Well, the truth is, it was such a beautiful time of day in the valley of that camp looking around at the mountains that by the time I made it to breakfast every day it didn't matter. Now, realize I am a stupid 14 year old kid... but somehow I managed to appreciate the beauty of the sun coming over the mountain. Just one of the little "tricks" they had that got my attention.
After breakfast there was morning watch. We were given a sheet of paper with some scriptures to look up (yes, we had to look them up, not just read them from the page) and some devotional material on it that related to the theme of the week. We had to be completely silent during this time and we were supposed to go find a place in the camp that was isolated... somewhere we could be alone with God. Then there was a prayer at the end. I am not a big fan of reading a prayer that someone else wrote for me to pray. I've always felt like that was someone else's prayer and that I needed to do my own thing... these prayers were different. Somehow those prayers managed to set the tone of the entire day and really get me ready for the message God had in store.
During the course of a day we would have two worship services, one was very focused, one very laid back. We had time to spend doing whatever we wanted and we had time where we would meet with a small group and discuss our "lesson" for the day. I hate using that word "lesson" because it really doesn't describe it.. I think journey might be a better word, because every day started another journey. If you can imagine putting a group of high school kids who don't know one another in a building with no air conditioning in June.. (remember, this is in Alabama) and that those kids could have a real experience with God and really get some meat from the word.
Of course, given that this was a high school group there was always drama. There was always some kid who didn't want to spend a week in a cabin with no air conditioning, no TV, no radio and a hefty crop of mosquitoes and chiggers but their parents made them come there. There was almost certainly by Tuesday a number of "romances" going on that would more than likely end by the time Saturday came around. I guess even in the most intimate places with God there are going to be distractions. I was guilty of some of that myself, but thankfully God managed to get me focused back in when I needed it most.
I can't really put it into words, and I know this post has been disjointed, but I can't remember any other times in my life that I have ever felt like I was really immersed in Him. I came away from that week with a greater understanding and passion for God. It was in that place, at that time that knew God was really there. I knew that God was not only attainable, He was waiting on me to get quiet enough to hear His voice. A lot of days now, I miss that intimacy.
I've got to find a place and a time to get away and find that again. I still talk to God daily, and I still hear his voice, but it has never been so clear and so strong as it was when I got out of all the clutter and let myself focus on him.
One more memory... on Friday night we had a service where the lights were down in the chapel and we sort of "developed the film" of the journey from that week. It helped make things real. We had communion together, as a group of believers and as a group of people who had just spent a week in constant communion with God. We lit candles and walked out into an open area in the camp under the stars and the enormity of God's creation and we prayed. We had a time to pray for each other, to laugh, cry and be a family. We had spent the last week on an accelerated journey together, and through it
we had become a family. It was our chance to say goodbye to one another, because come Saturday morning we would have to go back into the world that had crowded our head with so much noise and clutter that it was difficult to hear from God. When we left that area we left in silence, no words were to be spoken, no music played and no unnecessary noise of any kind. We just soaked. I just got to absorb it all, to really feel the connection. I got a chance to hear from God, and to make my peace with him before going back out into the hectic world outside the gates of Camp Sumatanga. The silence was never awkward. Everyone knew that the silence was filled with praise and basking in God's glory.
Labels: Camp Sumatanga, Intimacy with God
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Thursday, April 25, 2013
