Today is Q’s last day at church camp.
Having a child who’s old enough to go away to camp has really taken me back to my own camp experiences. I think it’s safe to say that, as a kid, my favorite week of every year was my week away at church camp.
I started going the summer after third grade, and didn’t miss a year for ten years straight. In case you’re wondering, I went to a variety of United Methodist-run camps in Michigan. If you’ve ever seen the movie Jesus Camp, it’s nothing like that.
I’m pretty sure my camp experiences could be categorized as very typical; perhaps that’s because they were mine, and the only ones I’ve known. Anyway, you can tell me if they were anything like yours: Lots of singing around campfires; silly rituals and traditions; cold scrambled eggs, thick spaghetti and iceberg lettuce; swimming and canoeing in the lake; giggling and passing notes during “horizontal hour” in the cabin; feeling convinced that I just met my new best forever friends and the boy of my dreams; getting too much sun and not enough sleep; hugs and tears at the end of the week, along with heartfelt promises to keep in touch.
Absorbing those subtle but so important things about faith
Church camp, of course, had the added element of Bible studies, prayer, worship times, and discussions about God and how we relate (or try to relate) to him.
When I think now about what I learned about my faith during those weeks at camp, it sort of feels like one of those “All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten” lists. As my faith deepens and matures (very slowly, I might add, in a two steps forward, one step back fashion), I find myself drawing more and more insight from many of the basic concepts I absorbed at camp.
It wasn’t that I was learning heavy theological material, or winning Bible quiz competitions. It was more that I was learning really subtle but important things about the nature of God, and about how to make my relationship to him my own. Here’s some of what I learned:
- God is not confined to any particular church or building—not even Central United Methodist Church in Lansing, Michigan, the church I went to for the first 18 years of my life. He’s in the woods and in the lake. He’s wrapped up in laughter and friendship, in the dining hall and around the campfire. He’s certainly in the starry Northern Michigan skies and the Northern Lights we witnessed at camp one magnificent night.
- God is available all seven days of the week, not just Sundays. That means worship can happen any day of the week, and any time of the day. Prayer can happen at times other than before dinner and bed! Who knew?!? And amazingly enough, all that worship and study and prayer doesn’t even have to be boring or dreaded!
- God is not a gift bestowed upon me by my parents. Sure, they were the first people to teach me about God, and they’ve probably taught me more than anyone else. But there is no umbilical cord running from me to my parents, then on to God. I learned I can forge ahead in my faith on my own, and even in my own way. I can also look to other adults to serve as mentors and guides—there are other people out there I can talk to and trust.
- All kinds of people (even really cool people, believe it or not!) can have relationships with God. Each person and their relationship with God has its own back story and day-to-day characteristics, too. Christians are not always cookie cutter stereotypes. Growing up, I got the feeling that the cool people in my public school weren’t into God, but the sort of geeky-but-nice people were. I always felt torn, and tended to not be vocal about my faith. Then I went to camp, and that whole paradigm shifted.
- There is a strong, indelible connection between God and freedom. It’s common to think the connection is between God and rules, or God and boundaries and confinement. But all of my earliest experiences with freedom—my life experiences away from home—were tied in some way to God. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence. My parents probably felt more comfortable sending their nine-year-old away for a week to a church-related camp. But the analogy holds true to what I’ve learned about God in the years since then: True freedom isn’t an utter lack of boundaries, or being sent out into the wilderness to do whatever you want. True freedom involves enough form to allow you to feel safe, which in turn allows you to really be yourself, and then to explore and open up within that form.
Wondering what my next “church camp” experience will be
I’m pretty sure these are the very sorts of things Q is learning at camp, too, even though she might not be able to articulate it for another ten or twenty years. I’m really glad she loves camp as much as I did, and looks forward to it each year with as much dramatic anticipation. H, who has been going to the same camp ever longer, feels exactly the same way. Next year S thinks she’ll be ready to give a week away from home a try.
I’m also pretty sure that I’ve had several “church camp” experiences since the last time I actually went to camp as a teenager. Like the times I started going to a different church, or experienced a different denomination. Or when I met someone who surprised me because they didn’t fit my Christian stereotype mold, in personality or in their approach to faith. And those few times when I’ve gone through a life changing experience and found God, the same but different, on the other side.
It all makes me wonder, of course, about you. Have you ever been to church camp, in a real or figurative sense? Have you had a chance to examine your faith away from your past, your parents, that particular denomination or that particular person who discolored it for you?
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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
I always disliked church growing up b/c I felt like my mom “made” me go. When I left home for college, I went to a Catholic university. At first I thought I’d never go to church again (no one could make me now that I was an adult, after all).
But the dorm I lived in provided a different experience. It was the smallest of all the freshmen dorms and was designed as a real community, with staff, professors and priests living among the students. Each week, on Wednesdays, the resident priest would say mass for whoever wanted to celebrate. We’d gather in a small room in the basement. It was informal – some people came in pajamas. But we all came with intent.
Readings were shared and the homily was less a sermon and more of a discussion. I remember thinking that it reminded me of stories of the early Christians, banding together in secret in Rome when Christianity was still outlawed. Our small group was coming together, learning together in a way that felt like true fellowship.
I’ve since drift far away from the Catholic Church for a variety of reasons, but whenever I visit a church or place of worship, I still think back to those Wednesday nights and hope to find a community like that again.
I like Meredith’s comment that the homily was less of a sermon and more of a discussion. Kristin, reminds me of another recent blog about the importance of being in life changing events (e.g., divorce) . . . with the company of others that have gone through the same life changing stuff.
Come to think of it — isn’t that what camp is – life changing events with others going through the same thing. Hmm, me thinks there is something deeper there.
Hi Kristin,
Sounds like church camp was a really wonderful and meaningful time in your life – awesome! I went to church camp for a couple of years growing up. And it was good. I think that whole thing of seeing God in a different place, outside of church was a really good thing for me. More recently – a couple of years ago I attended a three day retreat. In this case, it was inside a church building (we ate, played, had lessons, slept,etc, etc – there). This experience was one of the most powerful moments in my life – and really my first very deep and personal connection with the Holy Spirit. It was moving beyond anything I could have imagined. I am forever changed because of these three days. Sleeping on cots, in a room with about 10 other men, in the heat and humidity of the summer. So worth it, for my soul.
Kristin, I’m so happy that Q is getting to experience these times at camp now, and that your times there provide meaning in your life yet today.
Meredith, I think anything our parents *made* us do probably didn’t go over very well, did it? :) I realized when you said that about church camp, that going to church camp was completely my idea—my older brother never even went. That probably made a big difference. Also, your description of the dorm basement mass is really moving. “…we all came with intent….Our small group was coming together, learning together in a way that felt like true fellowship.” That sounds just right.
Dave, you’re right, there’s something very meta going on here. Camp itself can be so intense and such a unique experience that you end up feeling slightly disoriented and out of it for a while when you go home. Essentially, what’s happening at church camp is you’re talking about life and faith and various struggles, all within the context of this other intense experience. Thanks for helping me link these ideas together!
Lance, the way you acknowledged my love for camp, followed by your own experience (“it was good”) makes me realize how individualized these experiences are. I was pretty much wired for that kind of experience, but I know there must have been kids there who were miserable, at the very same camp. Your experience sounds somewhere in between. But then this retreat you went to really struck a chord—it could have been that particular time in your life, or the format and setting of the retreat. The point is, I guess, that we each need our own “camp experience,” in a way that resonates with us. And we need different experiences at different times in our lives.
I attended Girl Scout camp and church camp (Presbyterian). Both were rewarding – similar, but with a focus appropriate for the type of camp. One unexpected part of the church camp was that it included kids who were ordered to go in place of disciplinary action – legal, juvenile style of the day. It made the cabin interactions a bit difficult at times for a “goodie two shoes” like me. Then there was music camp, which was a whole different (and fun!) story!
Went to church as a kid, but never camp. It was one of those ‘we are the only true church’ type groups…never resonated well with me. I am all for inclusion, and acceptance, which is why I enjoy reading your perspectives. As I have said before, though I cant relate, I do relate – and somehow you’ve gotten that. I see a beauty in what you’ve found. Haven’t felt a desire to seek it myself though.
Daisy, I love your unusual church camp experience. That’s usually one of the not-so-great things about church camps—they tend to be filled with too many white, middle class goody-two-shoes. :)
Trina, I’m so grateful that you’re a part of this community here, and that we can learn from each other and think about things in different ways. Thanks for your honesty and for being who you are!
Church camp was the highlight of my summers. The one divine week all year, spiritually and socially. My daughter now goes and she, too, looks forward to it all year.
I love the keen observation of your own memory – thick spaghetti, cold eggs, iceberg lettuce. You nailed that for me. So true. Also, watered-down Kool-aid.
This post also reminds me that my first husband and my huband neither one had camp experiences and as adults they’ve actually kind of mourned that loss. As one who did have them, I know how much they missed, and there is no way, as an adult, that these adventures can be created.