The Art of Letting Go

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I walked past the open door, my travel mug refilled, ready to once again plug away at figuring out how the next few months of my life would look after leaving Echo Ranch Bible Camp.

But the outside beckoned me.  Maybe it was You.  I don’t know what it was, but something told me not to go back downstairs, isolated, a slave to the Internet’s grand and varied offers for what my future could look like.

So I went.

This summer, with all my intents and purposes of growing, improving, and letting go, was exactly not that kind of season.  It was a season of holding on.  Holding on to what if?s in a recently ended relationship, projected hopes of a new Christian community, expectations of my stunning performance as a leader, and above all, the confidence that I would know exactly what I would be doing with my life once it was all over.

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I walked past the Purple Bench.  I had originally intended on stopping there.  Maybe sitting down and enjoying the view of… the bath house?  Or maybe just the feeling of sitting in the sun.  But I kept walking.  I didn’t really know why.  Maybe I would go lie down in the middle of the sports field.  Soak up the rays that aren’t easy to come by during a summer in Southeast Alaska.  The path there was a little to the left.

God had called me here.  There haven’t been many times in my life when I could say that with confidence, but I knew it to be true now.  But as the weeks progressed, I watched my expectations crumble before my eyes.  I was a seasoned professional at this.  If any experience should have hammered that truth into my brain, it would have been the Race.  But I thought these were more realistic.  Instead, loneliness seeped in when quality time and vulnerability were scarce.  Feelings of failure abounded when my attempts to fulfill my role fell short. Uncertainty, anxiety, and depression crept up on me as I considered the possibilities and unknowns of my future again… and again… and again.  And, to top it all off, nobody liked feedback. 

I spent the summer being everywhere but here, and I knew it.  I felt like I had already thrown away opportunities to make the most of it, and nothing had even come out of all my fretting about what to do next.  I tossed, turned, and lay in a miserable heap of pity party in my bed one afternoon during the final few weeks, mulling it all over.  I listened to Jesus music and asked Him what heck I was supposed to do next.

And then I saw myself, scrambling around and trying to devise all these plans for what I would do.  But I wasn’t scrambling on the ground.  I was in the palm of a very large hand, and I didn’t even realize it.  I ran from one side of the palm to another, never noticing the fruitlessness of my efforts to do what I thought was best.  Because the hand was attached to Someone.  A wrist, to an arm, to a chest, to a neck to the head… of my Father.  My Father who was watching me run to and fro and sort of smiling knowingly.  As I looked in at myself, my scrambly little body, I thought, “If I were God, I would think that was so ridiculous. Why wouldn't I just trust Him, that He sees everything, and He's holding me, and He's in control? Why wouldn't I just rest, secure in His hand?"

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I turned right.  Why, I really didn’t know, but I didn’t really think about it.  Until I saw it and remembered.  The tiny little camp house referred to as the Love Shack. 

I had frequented this little home during my previous summer here because that is where my “camp mom”, Lyn, had lived.  We had talked together of things that mattered as she mixed together our favorite lemon drink concoction.  She told me her story.  And I marveled at how a woman so formerly broken could now be so full of love, grace, and joy.  

  

So often, my spirit’s response to a gentle Truth that sets it reeling is a simple, “Oh.”

I felt awakened.  Affirmed.  But not yet satisfied.  I knew there was more to trusting Him than just knowing I should do it.  It had to do with knowing Him.  Loving Him.  But what did that really mean, truly loving God with all my heart and soul and mind and strength?  I had seen others live that way.  I had been reading about it recently in one of the many books hailed by my World Race leaders.  I knew God was trustworthy, and I knew I loved Him.  But did I love Him like that?

          

I smiled as I walked up the porch steps and opened the door.  After making sure it was actually vacant, I settled into the couch where Lyn had shared her life with me four years ago.  Glancing around me, I noticed a book on the side table.  The Art of Loving God.  

I read the whole thing.  I cried.  I thanked.  I prayed.

I released.

I'm still processing through these kinds of things.  Intimacy.  Trust.  Love.  But in those still, sweet moments, I knew my Father was reaching down to me -- for me -- and saying, "Here, let Me help you understand a little better."  Maybe the point isn't me knowing all the things or being enough or getting it right or, you know, in control.  Just give. it. up.   (And haven't I already written like 56 blogs about this?)

What about you?  What kinds of things has God helped you understand in the midst of your own Crazy Land?

It is finished.

Echo Ranch’s final camp week of the summer ended on Friday, August 9^th, with 10- to 11-year-old kiddos on tractors bound for the beginning of their 2-mile hike out, waving goodbye to the canoes, the zipline, and everything else.



It was such a good week.  Of course, there were a couple of mishaps with campers not getting along, rolling their eyes instead of following directions, and burying their watches in the sand for safekeeping (and forgetting to mark the spot)…  But, overall, God provided a week for us to really enjoy the kids without trying too hard.



Although I didn’t counsel that week, the Broncos are definitely my favorite age group.  They’re the kids who are still young enough to think you’re awesome and not be embarrassed to open up about their lives and ask all the questions, but they’re old enough to have relatively intelligent conversations and understand the Gospel.  As usual, a few of the kids came to camp with zero/very little church background and no knowledge of Jesus.  One of them, Thomas, was attentive, wide-eyed, and inquisitive after every chapel message.  He absolutely soaked it up.  I honestly don’t know whether he made a decision to trust Jesus by the end of the week, but I can say that boy knew the News was Good.

Another boy struggled with other questions, like how to find “Oppossums” in the Bible.  After a bit of questioning from his counselors, they finally figured out he was talking about Psalms.

While I didn’t get to counsel in a cabin, I did get the opportunity to preach at chapel!  Our weekly message series always (usually) hits on these topics:

1.     Who is God?
2.     What is sin?
3.     Who is Jesus?
4.     Salvation
5.     Community & Evangelism

I spoke on #3, which basically consisted of throwing up a PowerPoint slideshow of about 20 pictures of stories about Jesus – and just talking about them.  It was awesome.  Of course, a lot of the pictures were a little cheesy…







But the kids listened.  And they were amazed.  It’s easy to forget just how incredible each detail of Jesus’ life on earth was until you make yourself a character in the story, imagining you were seeing it with your own eyes.  Seriously, Jesus raised a dead man to life?  He walked on the surface of the sea?  He made the blind see and the lame walk?  Most of us have heard those stories a million times, but our jaws would be dropping if we saw Him doing those kinds of things today.  (Want to know something cool?  That stuff still happens.)

The last picture of my slideshow sermon was of “The Last Supper.”  I asked the kids if they knew the name of the painting.  One of them yelled out “The Mona Lisa!”...  I tried not to laugh too hard.



Echo Ranch’s fulltime staff is entering into a new and exciting season.  Most of their heavy, intentional children’s ministry is focused on the summer camps, but they are seeing more and more that discipleship in the “off” season is absolutely essential.  During the last few weeks of camp, the director met with the counselors and brainstormed about how to "do discipleship" effectively.  Many kids need and desire this kind of spiritual leadership in their lives year-round, not just during the summer.

That’s where I am, too.  I’ve been home for just over a week now, and I am deeply craving discipleship in my own life.  I still don’t know what my next steps are.  Many of the counselors are in the same boat, and the failure to walk off our destination flights with a five-year plan in hand was a source of anxiety for some of us.  In spite of my inability to control every aspect of the future, though, God has been reminding me that my fulfillment will never come from my performance and circumstances, but in knowing and resting in Him.



As you read this and think about the kids and the counselors and the staff and me, please be lifting all of us up to the Father.  Ministry and discipleship, these things aren’t meant to be simply a “season”.   Pray that He opens our eyes to what He is doing and that we recognize His invitation for us to join Him.  Pray that for yourselves.  You won’t regret it.

Thank you all for your support and encouragement this summer.  I’ll keep you posted as God leads me to what He has next!

One Week Left

One week left.

After nine weeks of essentially the same games, the same messages, and the same meals—some of each being really awesome, and some I never want to experience again—looking at week ten before me holds a bittersweet essence.

I love camp, and in many ways, this summer has flown by.  Kids come, get acquainted with the cabins that will function as their families for the next four or five or six days, do all the activities, learn all about Jesus, and leave.  In other ways, each week can’t seem to end soon enough.  Kids throw tantrums because they don’t want to go to chapel or sleep or leave their stick they just found outside, and counselors get cranky because they want to have a moment to themselves or get any sleep or check all their Facebook notifications.



Some of the woes are certainly more legitimate than others.  Throughout the course of the past nine weeks, we’ve seen the effects of the brokenness that pervades much of Southeast Alaska.  Our second senior high camp was the week after the 4th of July.  Unlike the first round of high schoolers, this group was on the younger and less enthused side.  The activities and overall level of participation was a little more chill than usual, but it wasn’t just that.  There seemed to be this darkness that permeated that week.  As each day went on, we kept hearing these kids’ stories.  Stories of abuse and rape and inability to believe anyone could be good or trustworthy.  Stories steeped in a darkness you could feel.  A darkness that had settled over the hearts of these kids.  A darkness that became a hardness to the Truth, an inability to believe in the existence of God, let alone a God who could love them.  Our hearts broke as we listened to them open up, as we shared their stories with each other, as we prayed over them.  Prayed that they would be able to believe in the God who, for whatever reason, allowed these unspeakable things to occur – yet deeply desired to be their Healer.

Some of these kids didn’t have terrible stories.  Many had been campers since they were little, but they had heard the Truth so many times that their hearts became hardened with indifference.  They didn’t care anymore, and a few weren’t even sure that they believed it.

Even some of the counselors could feel this hardness creeping up on themselves.  They were getting tired of hearing the Gospel preached week after week, becoming complacent to this message of a hope they were no longer feeling.

It was that week that many of us started praying new kinds of prayers.  Not just ones for strength or patience or energy.  But prayers against the Enemy himself, who was intent on keeping us from seeing God.



Don’t get me wrong – the Light is present as well, and it’s transforming lives before our eyes.  Some of those kids who hear the message for the first time become captivated by it.  They don’t understand how God could always exist, or why He would choose to give up His Son, or why He loves them when they don’t deserve it…  But they accept it.  And they return home with a joy they have never experienced before.

I met an 11-year-old girl named Mani, who had been adopted from India when she was little.  She arrived at camp with no church background and very little understanding of anything Jesus-related.  But she listened.  And, little by little, it started soaking in.

It was her second attempt at the zipline.  The day before, she had been too scared to jump off the platform at the top.  This time, she remembered that one of the speakers had talked about God protecting us.  So she prayed that He would help her.  And then she jumped.



Marcus, a senior high camper, came from a small island community.  He was a fully-grown kid who was painfully reserved and soft-spoken.  I never saw him smile, and as I took his order at the camp store, I had to lean far over the counter toward him to hear what he was saying.  But as the week went on, his demeanor changed.  His counselor told us that he had accepted Christ, and the rest of us could tell.  He smiled.  Hespoke.  He began a life of walking with authority because he knew he was loved.

There have been hard weeks, but these kinds of stories make it all worth it.  With every struggle, every desert place, there has been opportunity.

Opportunity to hang out with a 13-year-old girl in the Yurt and talk about the way she sees Jesus and herself.  About her fear of not being good enough, in spite of all her efforts.  Opportunity to share about how I’m there too sometimes, but how I’ve discovered that having an actual relationship with Jesus is way better than trying to be perfect, because all our good deeds are like filthy rags to Him anyway, and He still loves us when we miss the mark.

Opportunity on the laser tag field, when one of my girl counselors who’s been sick for three weeks shares about the time she lay in a heap of misery on her bed, and God reminded her that He is her strength.  At a time when my faith had been severely lacking, I got to be encouraged and challenged by hers.

Opportunities to fail again and again and again, so I can realize that it was never about my performance in the first place, but about His power.



As camp draws to a close, please help us pray that we end well.  That God would fill us up for this last group of kids, that the kiddos would be open to what Jesus has to say to them, and that the fire would remain as both campers and counselors head back to real life.

I’ll be hitting “Lower 48” soil on August 27th.  As far as plans for September and beyond, those are in a hazy, unknown state, as usual…  (You can pray for that, too.)

What’s God been doing in your life lately?  Has He been giving you opportunities in places that seem dark?

And how can I pray for you?

So It Begins

After the dreary wind and drizzle of the first several days here in Auke Bay, Alaska, it has become unseasonably gorgeous outside.  Right now, I’m sitting in our dining hall in front of the windows that overlook the front beach of Berners Bay.  Breathtaking, snow-capped mountains tower out of the water.  Most of the counselors, having arrived a few days to a few hours ago, are hanging out on the beach, enjoying the sunshine and each other.  Thank God.  I was worried they were never going to say any words on their own.


I’ve been in Alaska for 12 days now, but it somehow feels as if it’s already been a month or more.  Although things have normalized at this point, they got off to sort of an eh start.  Coming back to Echo Ranch after 4 years feels kind of like visiting a house I used to live in.  This place is familiar – sort of – but these people aren’t.  The day after I arrived, I jumped right into the work staff groove, helping out with kitchen prep and cleanup (basically, cutting veggies, making dessert, and washing dishes 230981 times).

The first night I arrived, I was just in a funk.  I took a long walk (with my 3^rd cup of hot tea of the day in hand) around the camp, just exploring, remembering where everything was, talking to Jesus, recounting all the woes.  It was weird and lonely.  And cold.  And I just kept thinking, What the heck am I doing here?  

It wasn’t weird coming out the first time, at that phase in my life.  I was a college student and could just up and leave for the summer, no problem.  I wasn’t really concerned about my family, and I didn’t have a pending relationship back home or at school.  I wasn’t “soul tied”.  Things are so different now.  My relationships with family members have deepened, and I find myself worrying more about how things are going back home.  I think about my potential plans for the fall, feeling uncertain of what the best thing is (and we all know how I do with decision making).

I sat at the top of the zipline platform and whined and sat in all my uncertainty and my junk.  I thought about my World Race training camp, now 19 months ago, when God told Allison Johnston to honor all that we had left to come there.  I didn’t resonate with that then, but I do now.  I thought of Jesus’ disciples, who immediately abandoned everything they were doing and followed Him.  And that made me feel a little better.  I guess I had just thought that abandoning everything physically meant I could abandon it mentally/emotionally as well, and that hasn’t been the case at all.  And then of course I know I’m supposed to just trust Jesus and stop freaking out (the usual), but I don’t really know what that looks like.

I still felt kind of blah after all that, but then I kept going on my walk and saw all my special buildings, like the chapel where I had puppeteered and worshiped Jesus a zillion times, and the house where my “camp mom” lived and made me tea and told me her super crazy and detailed life story and listened to my woes, and the camp store where I would soon purchase some comfy sweatpants.  I went inside a cabin and smelled that signature firewood/stove aroma, and I was immediately transported back to the days of living with campers and attempting to get that dang fire to stay lit.  It was glorious.  And I felt refreshed.

The next couple of days were just a process of my initial social ineptness transforming to mostly social eptness.  I’ve gotten used to this “warming up” process by now and have been cutting myself a lot more slack, as far as not thinking I’m an idiot and stuff.  I started to feel like I was settling in, finding my place.

Counselors started arriving early the following week.  In spite of initial fears of counselor advising failure, I’ve been amazed at the ways I’ve been able to connect with these girls.  Many of their demeanors and life experiences are very similar to mine, both in the past and the present, and God has blessed me with so many opportunities to share some of the vast depths of my wisdom with them.  Ha.  Seriously, though, I hear their stories and think, time and time again, Yep.  I know what you’re saying.  And I’m right there with you now, or I’ve been there before.  And I’m pretty sure it’s going to be okay, because God has a knack for working stuff out.  I’m seeing the evidence of our God, who hand picked all of us out of each of our normal lives and brought us to this place, with all our baggage and failures and quirks and fears.  And, slowly but surely, I am seeing Him make us one body.

He is so good.  And, at least for now, I know I am right where I am supposed to be.

This post is adapted from an e-mail update I send out to friends and family who are interested in my missions experiences.  If you would like to be added to that list, just e-mail me at reagan.taylor88@gmail.com to let me know.