I sat, and I reflected. I thought about how crazy this whole thing was: ten Americans randomly showing up in a tuk-tuk, singing English songs to little Indian babies, being forced to sit in chairs six feet above the locals, praying over people who had no idea what we were saying. It all felt a little ridiculous. And, really, it was.
India (unlike every other month) was a month of processing for me. Over the last couple of weeks--or the last year, really--I observed how my teammates seemed to thrive at everything I really didn't like. Specifically, anything that had to do with small children. Especially if they knew no more than two words of English and just wanted to stare and wave at you. I was over it. I had made a list of all the things I pretty much sucked at. And then I wallowed in all my spiritual failure.
I had been trying to figure it out for awhile. Wondering why it seemed like everyone else has the same talents, except for me. Asking God what the heck "my calling" was, whatever that means.
But, as I listened to Rachel, and I thought some more, I realized this is the stuff I'm passionate about.
I'm passionate about the Gospel.
I'm passionate about sharing it with those who have never heard it or maybe just forgot what it meant.
I'm passionate about people getting it.
And that's super cool.
But, God, I wondered, How will I ever get to do something like this back in the States?
And then He reminded me where I had done it before. A place where I had grown and taught and loved years ago. But, since then, I had never felt like it was the right time to go back.
Until now.
This summer, I will be returning to Juneau, Alaska, to serve as a camp counselor at Echo Ranch Bible Camp. ERBC offers weeklong camps to nearly 1,000 kids each summer that belong to four different age groups: 7-9, 10-11, 12-14, and high schoolers. Each week, the kids have the option to participate in all kinds of fun stuff, including ziplining, canoeing, horseback riding, put-putt… And then, of course, the stuff that really matters, like chapel services, cabin devotions, and Jesus conversations around the campfire.
I was a counselor there during the summer of 2009, and it was one of the best and hardest things I’ve ever experienced. After only two days of counseling my first group of kids, I was done. I sat bawling in my cabin, reeling with the fact that I would eventually have to let these kids go home. I wouldn’t be able to shield them from all the woes of the world, the abuse some of them would experience, the lies they would hear… I wouldn’t be able to remind them of the Truth, of the God who loves them, of the things that would keep them going.
I would have to trust their Creator with those things instead.
I would learn to trust Him again and again and again when I felt like my body, mind, and soul couldn’t function anymore, when "I couldn’t possibly be more exhausted than I am right now"; when I felt completely alone; when I knew I didn’t have all the answers I thought I had. I would see Him work miracles, like provide the hands to actually make the camp run when we were short-staffed, the male counselors to lead those rowdy boys when there never seemed to be enough, and the friends I needed to encourage me at all the right times. It was so hard. But it was so good.
More important than my experience, though, is that those kids learned the Gospel. That was the focus of the whole camp. They may have shown up with zero knowledge or only a faint idea, but they left hearing it again and again. They heard, they received, and they were changed. Maybe only for a week… Most of us know how those things go. But the seed was planted. And that’s all we could do. I loved getting to hear every time a kid decided to give their lives to Jesus. To see their eyes light up when they finally got it. To be a part of what God decided to awaken in them. It was beautiful.
This is my passion. Sharing the Gospel. Teaching the Truth. Seeing people get it. Sitting at that prayer meeting in India, I realized God was inviting me to go back to Alaska and do it again. I always figured I’d go back one of these days… And now, I am.
As we real missionaries and pretend missionaries do, I threw together a little fundraising page for the $1500ish I’ll need for this summer. That money will cover airfare, food, and housing. If you’re interested in partnering with me in this ministry, you can go here. You be the hands; I'll be the feet, remember?
If you’re interested in reading any of my stories from my experience in 2009, there’s a blog for that too!
Those kids' lives weren't the only ones changed that summer.
Mine world was rocked, too.
And I can't wait for it to happen again.
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