A Note on the Nature of my Father

Today (as I write this, not as I post it) is the day that my father turns 60. 

Sixty years on the earth. 

Sixty years of learning and growing and imparting.

One of the greatest things that my father does for me (and there are lots of things that he has done ) is love me as an individual. Not only that, he has taken such joy in the individuals that we (myself and my siblings) are, it only encourages us to do the same for others. My father time and again communicates to me, not just an unconditional love, but a joyful love. Joyous, not of things I do, but of who I am. 

So I am going to try and return the favor and talk about who I have seen my father to be.

He is centered on God.

I put this first, because whether I say it or not, it effects everything that will follow. Dad has spent his life seeking God. He has spent my life discipling me. Walking with me when I was young. Pushing me outward as I got older. Standing firm to answer questions. The way that he did it, for me, was not based on my needing to meet his standard, but rather that he personally had a relationship with God, and he wanted me to share in the same. My whole life I have only seen his love for God, his desire to serve, and desire to submit to God grow, and become more and more apparent. He has lived out what has got to be one of his favorite verses (because he says it all the time) "I have no greater joy than to see my children walking in the truth."

He is honest.

He tells me about his life. His mistakes. His triumphs. His relationship with God. He tells me when he can’t tell me things. And I trust him. I have never felt lied to. Never felt like there was a double standard. Never felt like I was getting half-truths. Because my dad has always been himself.

He is an individual.

The older he gets, the more he falls into himself. He is a goofy, serious, loving, mature, kid-like, humorous, a scholar, and more. Because my dad was himself and had fun with it, and equally had fun with my mom, as herself, and I saw him with each of my siblings doing the same, it only supported my desire to just be me. Having a father who is excited for you to be unique, to be who you are, is of immeasurable value.

He loves my mom.

My dad has always made it clear, he loves my mom, that he is always in her corner. From making sure to give her a big hug and kiss when he comes home, to making sure we helped her, to showing understanding when my mom gets upset, or overwhelmed, and supporting and defending her, rather than belittling something that wouldn’t even phase him. This set up so many good examples and so many high standards. I’m not sure I’ll ever find them all.

He is patient. 

Whether with a long to-do list, high emotions (he does have five daughters), upsetting situations, accidents, or just plain old flops (car wrecks etc). I have never been afraid of my dad. I have never wanted to avoid calling him, because he has always proven trustworthy of keeping my emotions, and feelings.

He is impatient.

I know, it seems contradictory, but my father can also be impatient. He gets impatient of people who do things to a lesser quality than he believes they should be able. He is impatient of repetition. If you make the same mistake over and over, he is impatient. He is mostly impatient with people outside of his family.

He is focused on family.

My dad is a people person, but his closest relationships (apart from God) are without doubt with his wife and children. He puts us on priority above everything else, including himself.  He has worked full time all my life and I never felt he was absent. Every event I could have wanted him there, he was. He is in every memory of holidays and even normal family dinners, Saturday work days, everything. 

He is not perfect.

My dad makes mistakes. I know because when he makes them, he will do what he can to make amends. Whether that is rushing to judgement, speaking too much ( I can relate), sharp words, bad choices. If it is a gray area, my father will try and correct it. 

He is fun.

My dad is hilarious. He loves an audience and he is good at working one. He sings well, and tells stories. He is just fun to be around. I love hanging out with my dad.

He is wise.

My dad has taken his years, and kept learning. He may debate this point, but I think it has made him wise. He’ll tell you of all his shenanigans when he was younger, and mistakes he’s made. But those have helped shape him. That and his continual submission to God. 

He has integrity.

I never doubted that my father would, to the best of his knowledge, do the right thing. He works hard, he does not cut corners, he does not give less than his best. Because of him, I didn’t slack in college. Because he set the example and standard, to do everything to the best of your ability. Not the best of everyone out there, but the best of what you can do.

He is someone to be respected.

This is huge. Some people hear me and my siblings talk to our dad and think that he’s letting us get away with disrespect. We joke and make fun of him (and he returns), we are always very open and honest, but this is not sprung from disrespect, this is from respect. Because of these things that I have listed above and so many more, my dad has spent the 22 years of my life earning and earning more and more respect. Because I respect him so much, because he so obviously loves me, and because he has been himself, and let us be ourselves, we have the freedom to communicate, however. There are no rules of what we can and cannot say to dad. 

He is my dad.

He’s mine. God gave me Bo Gray, as my father. He gave him to me for reasons I may never know in full, but a huge one is he gave me a father, as an earthly picture of His love for me. And my father, imperfect and human as he is, has, in my eyes, blown it out of the park.

He is a blessing and encouragement to me, always; he's such an amazing image of God’s love for me. An image of the way God loves me as an individual. The way God wants the best for me. The way that God feels pain when I do. The way that God takes joy in my life. 

Granted, my dad doesn’t have a plan for my life, like God, and he can not love me to level that Christ does, but he is always pointing me towards God, my true father.

And as an ambassador father of the most high Father, to us, his family, and primary calling, I’d say he is a smashing success.

Love you Daddy.

Day Off

I had a day off last Wednesday. I mostly drove around by myself, snapping photos and taking names. 

Literally taking names. 

Before I left my cabin I ran into my mustached other half, Pivot. And took a picture of the note one of the cabins wrote him.

Then I spoke with Bo (my father).

Connie, the bank teller, helped me handled my monetary business.

Wesley, the friendly gas station attendant. 

Then I went to Starbucks.

Charlie made my tall, vanilla soy latte. 

You can always spot a camp person...Kavu, running shorts, t-shirt, chacos...hitting Starbucks in the off time.

Talked to Deb (my mom) as I drove from Cleveland to Gainesville.

I went to the Verizon store and talked to Wesley, who seemed to hate his life. 

I also spend nearly two hours wandering around a book store and taking pictures of books I want to read.

And marveling at how unique Nicholas Spark's books are. Not.

Went to Chick fil'a and found this, complimentary mouth wash. 

And thanks to a mix up by Imani, I ended up with someone else's meal. So I got way more food than I paid for. I offered to pay the difference, but she said don't worry about it. 

I also tried a peach milkshake for the first time, it was delicious. 

I also went to Plato's Closet and listened to Casey, Madeline and Amanda very loudly search for a dress for Casey to wear to a concert. 

There was also the cashier at Office Depot who was in training and his boss Chris, who seemed over it. 

Then I came back to camp, ate a frozen dinner, and these, and watched Arrested Development. 

Not a bad day.

Inspired by Joy

The most amazing smile. Laugh lines that exploded like fireworks from the corner of her eyes. 

The best part about her smile, was how often she used it. 

Shannon, that's her name and we were not best friends. I will not offend the feelings of those who were by claiming otherwise. We were really only active in each other's lives for one year or so when we both attended a community college prior to transferring to different universities. 

I have talked a lot about the story God has written for us, and the people that intersect that story. Shannon and I had a fairly brief intersection, and this morning, I found out that her life story reached it's end and she is in her glorious epilogue, united with our Savior. 

Here's why I hold on to our life intersection. 

At the time, I was struggling with feeling connected. I was learning how to be outgoing, and she could not have been a more perfect unintentional tutor. 

It's seems cliche to say she never met a stranger, but it's so true. Her explosive smile fell on so many people. She acted like you were best friends in the most sincere way. Her friendship was a gift for that year of my life. 

I learned from her lessons of confidence, of friendliness, of extending love to anyone, of pursuing relationships with God and people. 

I am fighting to process this. My heart hurts for her sweet parents, and her brothers. I know how close they were. I can not fathom having to process this news. But the thing that keeps coming into my mind, is the assurance of Christ. I know that because of Him, His promises, that Shannon is happier than she ever was here, as hard as that is to imagine. 

I know I will get see her again, and pick up our friendship, even better than it was four years ago. 

I know that because of this, I can just be thankful, so thankful, for the intersection of our lives. That I was able to know her. To know her love of life and be inspired by her joy. 

That's it, that's her biggest legacy in my life. 

She left me inspired by joy. 

Read All About It....

What to do when you don't feel well at camp:

1) Fight through it for a day or so with minimum comments and try to get to bed as early as possible.

2) Sleep didn't help? Engage in an inner battle with yourself to figure out if this is imagined due to sleep deprivation or an actual spreadable illness.

3) Go talk to the nurse. Get a plan of action together. Including your distaste of going to the doctor.

4) Keep talking it out. Not just with your hypochondriacal germa-phobe office mate, but with people with a sound mind and equal interest in camp and your personal well being, i.e. directors.

5) Decide that since you and your roommate have similar symptoms and she's been sick for longer, it's time to seek a professional.

6) Get down the hours the walk-in is open and drive to town with said roommate.

7) Discover that she changed her hours in the past week.

8) Drive back to camp.

9) Drive back to the walk-in clinic, whilst making joke, "Just watch, we'll get there and there will be a sign that says, "the doctor is sick, come back tomorrow."

10) Enter the walk in clinic to have the receptionist say, "She's been sick, can you come back later." (Not joking)

11) Make an "appointment" for later (i.e. she writes our names on a post-it note)

11) Drive back to camp.

12) Take a nap.

13) Drive back to the clinic.

14) Fill out paperwork.

15) Discover that according to her standards you are not lazy, but moderately active.

16) Wait while your roommate, who got her name on the sticky note first, sees the nurse.

17) Ask for the restroom, then decide to hold it, because after a day like this, she's probably going to ask for a pee test, five minutes after you handle your business.

18) Discover your roommate has strep.

19) Have your throat swabbed.

20) Wait five minutes then listen while the nurse talks herself into believing she sees a "faint red line" and then try to remain non-committal when she asks if you see the phantom indicator.

21) Go to ingles and fill your prescription and buy 2 pints of blueberries, a bag of dried mango, and a Tobelrone bar while you wait.

22) Drive back to camp and tell the people.

23) Spend 24 hours in quarantine with your same roommate.

24) Sleep

25) Listen to music

26) Forage for food because you missed dinner waiting at ingles

27) Finish season one of Arrested Development

28) Sleep

29) Take antibiotics

30) Sleep

31) Wake up

32) Eat oatmeal

33) Take pills

34) Finish Hercules

35) Sleep

36) Eat food

37) Sleep

38) Start season two of Arrested Development

39) Listen to music

40) Sleep

41) Watch an old Steve Martin movie

42) Lie and stare at the ceiling

43) Decide you get to return to the world at dinner

44) Pack up the room

45) Wait for the kids to clear out of free time at the lodge

46) Write this blog post

47) Watch your stir crazy roommate spring back into action

48) Prepare your "I'm not sick or contagious speech" for your hypochondriacal germa-phobe partner

49) Listen to music and finsh the blog post

50) Go about life.

Whatever's In Front of Me...

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I remember in my 3rd summer at camp, one I day I woke up and just felt dead. I was so tired, I couldn't begin to imagine how I was going to sit up, let alone wake up a cabin full of 10 year olds and be responsible for them, and teach five classes, all while maintaining the energy and joy required by camp.

I rolled over and let my arm drop to the floor and pick up the notecards next to me bed. For the hundredth time that year, I read 2 Corinthians 4.

The rest of the day, was not easy. I took one step at a time, sometimes literally. I made it to lunch in shock. By the time I was running around playing the game that night, I knew that something awesome had happened that day, because I looked back and could not find a single point where my energy was coming from me.

I looked back on the day and thought, how cool? God did that whole thing. I loved that day. I loved the part it held in my memory and building my walk with God.

This summer I look on that experience as a marathoner might look back at their middle school track team (and knowing that before I die, I'm gonna end up like those people who run across the country in three days). Even so, God is still teaching me from that passage.

The verse at the beginning of this post says a couple different things I want to point out.

"...we do not lose heart..."

This is a statement. We don't lose heart. We have opportunity to lose heart, but we won't. What comes next is why.

"...our outer self is wasting away, but our inner self is being renewed, day by day..."

Our outer self will only get more tired, more run down. But every morning, God's mercies are new. Every day God comes in and restores our soul. He reminds us in a million ways why showing up every day is "worth it".

"..this light and momentary affliction..."

It doesn't say what gauge we are deciding what light and momentary affliction is, but here at camp we have air conditioning, running water, food, sleep, beds, pretty basic first-world life style. Sure, we spend a lot of time in the sun, but we have an abundance of clean water. Sure we have very little down-time during the day, but we have at least eight (should be at least nine) hours every day with no assignments. This is hard work, emotionally and spiritually pouring into these campers, absolutely, but for the most part, I would call it "light and momentary" in comparaison to what we could be facing.

"...preparing us for an eternal weight of glory, beyond all comparison..."

This is the part that jumped out to me when reading through this past time. Mostly the word, "weight". I know that word. I don't just know what it means, I feel what it means. The "weight of glory".

We are here with purpose. I have been called. I know this. So I show up and I trust God to work, to provide. But I feel, acutely the weight of what we are doing. The weight and effect that my actions have. The weight of the forces that oppose us. The weight of the majesty of what we are doing.

"...we look not to things that are seen, but unseen..."

Every day, no matter how hard or easy. we are here for the Unseen. For God. For Christ. For sharing good news with others. And this God that we are here for, is working everything for our good and for His glory (a). A weight of glory.

"...so we do not lose heart..."

We wake up and experience just a taste of an eternal weight of glory. It's heavy, sometimes it's hard, and sometimes I want to give into the flesh side of me and cry, and be down, and succumb to discouragement. But no matter what, "...whatever's in front of me, I chose to say, Hallejuah." 

Because it's worth it.

Because God is still there. 

Because God is still worthy of trust. 

Because God is still deserving of praise.

Because God sustains me. 

Because God will not stop pursuing me.

Because, I feel the weight, and it's glorious. 

I will not lose heart.

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know thatthe testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." -James 1: 2-4

Let’s Be Terrifying

Best "battle" picture I could find, but I love this book/movie
and also Peter is my favorite.

(From the newsletter that we put out bi-weekly for the staff)

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.” 

  Every morning we open our eyes in a battle. Every night we fall asleep in the midst of war.

 “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”

We are against a clever and cunning foe, and yet live in the midst of situations that are trying and wear us down. They make us dull, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

Camp is such a hard battle because it can be a battle against flesh and blood (our own weakness), along with spirituality.  One of the biggest assets for the enemy is convincing us that there is no battle. Then there is no reason for us to be on our guard. So maybe he attacks you subtly, maybe you aren’t struggling with energy or patience. That is a ploy. You grow dependent on yourself. That happened so many summers for me. When I started being overwhelmed, then I sunk deeper into God. So the enemy keeps coming, and attacking in new ways.

“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.”

We’ve all seen movies about war, heard stories. Battles are fought, and when the end comes, the victors are the ones still standing. They are not clean, or energized, they are weary, they are bloody, they are bruised. But they are standing. We don’t win battles by standing back and watching the fray, we win them by charging in. 

“Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

This is our armor. This is how we win. If we go into battle without it, we die. Every night as you go to sleep, sleep in battle mode. With your armor on, sword at the ready. When you wake up in the morning, attack the day. Every day of your life, you fight for your soul, but when you come to camp, you take up the sword for more. You fight not just for yourself, but for the campers, the staff, and the families that are impacted by our calling, when you wake up weary, when you struggle to put a smile on, when kids are driving you crazy, when your body is weak and you begin thinking fainting would be a good thing because it means you could lie down, in those moments you are being attacked, mercilessly.

“And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”  (-Ephesians 6: 10-18)

So look up from this paper and look at your co-counselor. Look at the kids in your cabin and don’t see their shells. Look, and ask God to let you see the soul, the life that Satan is trying to steal. Step into your boots, pull on your helmet, tighten your belt, surround yourself in the shield of faith and pick up your sword. Then run, head-on into the battle, fight till you see the demons turn-tail and run. Then fight some more. Remember that without the armor, without God, without the Spirit, no matter what intentions you may have, you are dead, and one less person fighting for your campers. So abide in Christ, live and breathe in the armor of God. Be encouraged and praise God for attacks, because it means we are in the battle, it means that we are growing into something to fear. 

Driving for All Eternity

There's something weird about driving long distances. Spending hours in the car, in the same seat. Something strange starts to happen to you.

It's subtle at first. You work into it starting with that early morning alarm, the quick mental pep talk that tells you that the exciting things you have going today ate worth getting up hours before the sun.

Then you make it to the next town over and marvel at how that jaunt seemed like the blink of an eye. Then, if you ate fortunate enough not to be driving you have the luxury of getting to re enter a sleep like state, although arguably, you never left one, even as you packed up. By the time you make that first stop for gas and coffee, you are all hyped at how fast the trip is going.

This next leg is critical to the shift from normal to strange. In this next part of the trip you and your car mates fall into the "rhythm"  of the trip. By natural course you discover who sits closest to the best snacks, and who is most willing to divvy them out. You develop a balance for those who sleep, want to listen to music, want to listen to books on tape.

And then you look at the clock and realize you've been in this pattern for twelve hours. You try to think back to the morning and realize any life outside of this van has become hazy. You sit and say to yourself, don't be dramatic, you lived a normal life yesterday, you....well what did you do? All you can see is the passing of landscape. All you hear are the ramblings of the deep throated radio story teller. Surely you ran those errands last week....because there's no way you had any sort of normalcy as short a time as 24 hours ago.

You sit and try to imagine eating something other than the snack food so carefully packed and more messily strewn between the front bucket seats. Is there every anything other than pretzels to satisfy cravings? And when was the last time you used a plate? Silverware?

The stale air of the vehicle, that no matter what you tell the air conditioning to do, always carries with it a faint trail of stagnancy. That ever so slight headache, the thirst that is always a little less than quenched, because who knows when you'll stop next. The feeling that any moment an extended look down ward, or a bump in the road and that morning car sickness will return with a vengeance. All these things persist with such dependence that they become your strongest enemy in perpetuating the lie that this back seat is the only life you've really known and everything else is merely an Inception-esque dream.

You try to remind yourself of where you are going. Of the people or places that inspired you to undergo such a trek in the first place, but at this point the tired pulse that makes your eye balls feel like they are twice the size they should be only lets you see the part of the trip when you have to say goodbye and do this trip all over again. But that's okay because at this point if someone told you that you had driven this far for one meal, it would seem worth it because it would be something different than this.
This speckled gray mini van upholstery.

These ever present brake lights that seem to be on an extreme counter offensive mission to delay these hours even more.

The final stage is the one that saves you from swearing off these trips ever again. Its the moment, when at long last, you pull into the parking lot. You climb over the previously organized piles that have now become Everest like mountains and your feet hit terra firma. Suddenly blood makes it to your feet for what feels like the first time. You realize that your back had retained the ability to fully extend, and that the air does move. Then you look towards the faces approaching. The ones you've driven eternity to visit.

You sit together and eat real food on real dishes. You laugh. You look at your travel mates and suddenly only remember the laughter. You remember fondly all the stops, the brake lights, the new routes, because it was "all part of the experience". You marvel with each other that the drive "really wasn't all that bad". You laugh when you calculate that you've been in the car for fifteen hours, as if you can't imagine a better way to spend a day. Your memory returns, and the gift of being able to recall yesterday provides stories that take far later into the night than any one planned because you're, "really not that tired".

You spend your trip shoving away the thought that the warm fuzzy feeling about your road trip is a hoax and through yourself into the people around you. Because that is what is really true. The thoughts that fight each other as you drive....that make you doubt your ability to make good choices...those are lies, because the truth you know deep down is that it would be worth it. To drive 30 hours for one day with these people. To be together. To celebrate the lives we've been given.

Thank you so much for reading this blog, posted from my phone, written on the car in the 15th hour. And special congratulations to my sister Lydia, who's graduation from her Master's program we are gathering to celebrate. If you wanna know more about our road trip, find us on twitter @graymeetsworld.

(please ignore any spelling our formatting errors, like I said, this was sent from my phone).

Hope in Exile

This past weekend I spent about 48 hours in Cleveland GA with the directors and fellow summer staff leaders prepping for the coming months at Strong Rock Camp. 

The man himself, in parent 
approved swag.

There will be a coming post about my heart going into this summer, but since it has been a long time since I have written on this blog, I always feel I need to work back into it slowly. So instead this post features my second ever guest writer (read the first here - she was five).

This piece was not written for a blog. It was written by an awesome member of the summer staff leadership team from last summer, Taylor Wade.

What is cool about Taylor and camp is how clearly God placed him there, because Tay will tell you, he didn't really ever plan on working at Strong Rock.

 In 2011, he had applied to camp but backed out because he wasn't sure how his training schedule for the National Guard would mesh with camp. But when during staff week we had one of our male staff drop out unexpectedly we called up and he came, halfway into training. He spent the first half of the summer in the kitchen and when our numbers required the opening of another boy's cabin he spent the rest of the summer as a counselor. 

A little more realistic.

He thought that that was it for he and camp, but last year when we found ourself lacking a Boy's Head Counselor, he stepped in and filled the roll. He didn't have the most experience, but what he did have was Christ, and the person that God has made him. 

Taylor will tell you modestly how the summer went. He will give credit to other people and say that they are the reason that he found success. What he won't tell you is how blown away we all were by his ability to lead and encourage. He won't tell you how many times he kept me from going crazy. He won't tell you how he made every staffer feel wanted and loved. He won't tell you how his humor lightened the weary days, or how his enthusiasm for Christ encouraged others to pursue Him further. 

This letter is one he sent out halfway through the summer. It's fun because when he passed it out to the staff, I don't think I took much time to really read it, but since it came home from camp with me, it has popped up, every few months in random places like an old purse, or a forgotten stack on my desk, and it finds a way to encourage my socks off every time. I asked him if I could post it here, and he told me that the way he saw it, he gave it to us so we could do whatever we well pleased with it. 

I am posting it now as we go into the coming summer, because truth is timeless. I post it for my fellow staff and I post it for those who are not in camp. Because every one will at some point feel forsaken. Everyone at some point will be annoyed by someone, somewhere, and in that moment, this message becomes applicable. 

Strong Rock Staff,

After Rookie’s testimony on Sunday morning, I started thinking about one of the verses he shared. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you future and a hope.” This verse is quoted so much so that, for me at least, it has lost it’s power and meaning. It had become one of those cliché bible verses from Awana they made you memorize. After hearing the verse again on Sunday, something about it had just struck me. I went to read the verse in context of the overall story of Israel and their captivity. After a certain point, I decided to write this and share what all the Holy Spirit was speaking to me.

Jeremiah 29:4-9 says, “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them’ plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Do not let your prophets and your diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that they dream, for it is a lie that they are prophesying to you in my name’ I did not send them, declares the Lord.” 

This section seems unimportant and kind of odds at first. But earlier in Jeremiah, the prophet intentionally refrains from marriage and bearing children. This action portrays Israel’s potential future. Obviously, whenever a nation ceases to marry and bear children, they will become extinct. The above section tells of future captivity, but provides hope that God will not allow His people to become extinct even though this trying time (70 years, in their case). Even amidst the turmoil and anguish, there is hope. 

Jeremiah goes on to speak in verses 10-14, saying “For thus says the Lord: When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, Plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, declares the Lord, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.”  

God lets His people know that despite their time of captivity, there will be an end to it. The trials will come to pass. Even when it seems as though God has forgotten His people, He still has plans for them. And they are plans to give us all a future and a hope of what is to come. Furthermore, the God of the universe is willing to listen to His people, His creation . When we genuinely seek God - to hear what He wants tot tell us, to seek His council and comfort, and to rebuild that relationship we’ve partially destroyed through sin- our God willing listens. Finally, God says he will “bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.” This is more than a geographical relocation to a homeland. This includes a restoration of life in every possible way. 

I understand that some of these kids can grate on our nerves. I understand that some of these classes we teach aren’t our favorites. And I understand that some we won’t always have the best attitude for whatever reason. But think about how much God has blessed us just by being here. We have phenomenal leadership at every level of camp, even down to some campers. We are surrounded by some of God’s most beautiful creation on a daily basis! We are surrounded by friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, for those days that just don’t seem to go right. We aren’t in any kind of exile here. And yet God still has plans for us to restore us to a life of total and complete fulfillment. 

This verse also applies to the campers. Like I said, I understand that some campers just push out buttons on a daily basis. But we aren’t here to babysit. We have all been brought in here to accomplish a single goal. To impact kids’ lives for the kingdom of God. I guarantee you some of these campers are in their own kind of exile as you read this. And they need to know what God has promised them. Please, remember why you are here. Be encouraging. Have fun. Show these campers how good God has been to us just by allowing us to live another day. And use that day to influence theses campers.

I love all of y’all,

Taylor Wade

I am so grateful that God has seen fit to bless our camp, and my life with a fantastic person such as Taylor Andrew Wade. He is also a writer (clearly) but mostly sticks to publishing humor. Check out his newly created humor blog here! 

Sneaking In

My front porch in the evening

As I sit on the counter and look over the living room, I smile.

Outside the window, the little green shoots pushing out of the end of the branches are creating a delightful fuzzy halo on the trees outside.

There is a warm earthy scent creeping in from my Mom's open window and trailing behind everyone who comes in the door. It's permeating the air, rising up from the ground as the sun warms into soil, rousing the stiff ache of winter.

The way the sun drifts through the front windows as it lazily drops behind the mountains off the front porch, making the halo on the trees glow.

I sit and soak it in. Deep inside me something is stirring. The feeling that I am nearing the time to chuck my hectic and changing schedule out the window. A time is coming for me to dive into the most draining, sleepless, and exciting vacation I've ever loved. The only summers I really distinctly remember, because every moment is so incredibly worth it.

Summer.

I'm waiting in peace, through these last few weeks of hectic-ness. I am diving head-on into my last moments juggling three jobs and soaking in every conversation, every experience, every laugh, every story, every annoyance, every wrench in the plan. But, always in the back of my  head, I am here, sitting on this counter, in perfect contentment. 

I am sitting and waiting for the brilliant wave of long days, short nights, laughter, tears, sweltering sun and magnificent stars.

I am sitting and waiting for the earth shaking weight of God's glory, revealed in every way, from the small moments to grand landscapes.

I am sitting and waiting for the drenching downpour of love that leaves my heart so full and heavy, that I wonder how I retain the ability to move, let alone express even a fraction of it.

I am sitting and waiting on God...for His next move.

I am sitting and thankful that the next move looks like camp.

A Thousand Words

This weekend was my camp's biggest retreat group, 200+. I lost my voice.

I could write a lot about the weekend, but it seems more fitting to withhold. So instead, I am offering up a photo blog about the weekend.

Day one, setting up 28 tables in the dining hall.

Sunset after work

DQ at the end of the day. 

Owen

Then on Saturday...this girl came to help....

...And did some ninja training.

DQ, second night.

Voiceless and sent to work in the kitchen with these kids!

The faces of Ben Helton

Sunrise, Sunday morning.

End of retreat. They're perky.

Dinner post-retreat.

They were laughing at my word mix-up.

Movies, with the Brannons.

Home again. This is my front porch.

"It's The Sound of the Dawn Breaking"

The title from the song, "Hope" by Kristine DeMarco (sorry, best video I could find).

Many people have written many things about Easter. There are classic phrases, like “He is risen, He is risen indeed” that we will throw around. There are songs that we’ll hear every year, like “Were You There?”. 

I don’t think there is anything wrong with these things as a general rule, I don’t like that they make me numb. I grew up hearing the story, seeing the somber look that pastors get when they read those chapters of the gospels. Seeing the fabric draped crosses, hearing over and over about the suffering, and the joy (again, not wrong on it's own, actually pretty good, unless you become numb, as I have and seen many others) This year, we've added the memes on facebook of stylized image of Jesus, and the cross, with phrases and verses. 

I see the memes and I roll my eyes.* 

How can we take it down to a meme? It’s the same format used to make fun of Justin Bieber and populate the Ryan Gosling, “Hey Girl” movement. 

Every moment I live in a battle. I battle my self. I battle the god of the age. I do my best to rally my failed flesh and do my best to return punches. I do my best to pick up the sword and attack the day. 

Still I fail. 

Still I lie in a broken heap, hiding. 

Still I stand frozen while the blood runs down my face. 

I know that I can not win. I know that no matter how hard I fight, no matter how much good I do, I will still fail. I will still have darkness inside me that needs to be shoved into light. 

God created a perfect earth. He created humans so they could be close to Him. But Satan came in with a lie, and in one decision on the part of humans, a decision repeated every second of every day, Satan gleefully helped us create a chasm between ourselves and God, one of sin and darkness. The separation between God and us left us helpless and hopeless to ever get back to Him on our own. God can not remain God and let something as dirty as us know Him. His line is singular and immovable. There is no small sin He lets slide. There is nothing we can do, to bridge that separation.

Easter is regarded as the time when we remember Christ coming to save the world. It is a weekend where people show up in church for the first time all year and sing sentimental hymns and stand  looking properly somber on Friday and properly joyful on Sunday. But Easter is not just a weekend event. Easter is not contained. It can’t be. Christ didn’t just die on a weekend in April and leave us to "remember" the anniversary once a year. Every day that I get up with hope, I am celebrating Easter, because 2,000 years ago my separation ended, my inevitable death was destroyed and the god of the age lost all power.

Every day, every moment, I have options, I have hope, because Christ defeated death and offered me adoption into His family. When I fail, He doesn’t kick me out. When I lie in a broken heap, He picks me up. When I stand frozen, He wipes the blood out of my eyes and spurs me forward. He does this because not only has He faced all the darkness I face, He beat the crap out of it and then destroyed it.

People who hold on to their darkness run from Him in fear. When I live in His grace and adoption, my darkness is brought to light. When Christ's light shines, I believe Satan screams in frustration that he has lost so epically. 

Every day when I get up to fight, I am thankful. I am thankful not just that I am on the team that wins, I am thankful that I get to fight, to feel personally defeated and see Jesus win anyway. If Jesus' victory had also taken everything hard, like feelings of failure and loss, I don’t think I would be able to fully know the victory. 

Salvation. The moment when you realize you face the dark legion all alone. As they descend and encircle you, all you see is the clash of steel, all you hear are anguished cries, and your heart is racing so hard you can’t catch a breath. You suffer their blades carving out pieces of your self, and feel dizzy from their blows. Your own blood, is being coughed from your lungs and runs down your face. You know “I’m dead” and then decide to cry out for Life.

The moment when you feel the strength of the Spirit overtake your weary body and you catch your first glimpse of clear blue sky. As your old weary self dies, and Christ’s blood washes down making you new, the demons of your past fall away screaming at the Light overtaking you, and you  begin to see the view. You see the great grandeur of victory. You stand, free and new, in a sea of personal death.

Those demons will creep back. You will feel overwhelmed again, you are probably not done coughing up blood, but now, you are not alone. Now you face the legion alongside not only a sea of redeemed faces, but filled and surrounded by the One who defeated death itself. You have the hope that no matter how destroyed your body gets, your soul is invincible, because you’ve given it to One who destroys death. 

Think about that. Destroys death. 

The battle is actually a gift. We are now fighting from the top of a mountain. If I had been sitting in peace on the mountain the whole time, it wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful, because even in the fray, we have hope. Because we are fighting a war that is won. 

So how in the heck do you stick something as astounding as that on a meme?*

*I mean no disrespect towards the people who post memes. They are some dear friends of mine, many of whom I know have a deeper relationship with Jesus than a meme signifies to me. God is big enough to speak through these memes, whether I like it or not.