Joyce and I are pretty sure we
were the oldest chaperones at youth camp last week. Joyce said she knows she was the only
chaperone on Medicare! When I told one
of the counselors that I took my first group of youth to summer camp in 1974,
he looked at me like I belonged in the Smithsonian.
Our
youth attend Passport, an ecumenical organization that sponsors Christian camps
all over the southeastern United States.
The counselors are all very young (mostly graduate school), the
atmosphere is high energy, and the programming is exceptional. The camps are held on college campuses, a
great experience for the Middle and Senior High students who receive a Passport
the first night assigning them to a group.
This group stays together for Bible Study, recreational events, and
mission projects. Working with local
mission groups such as Habitat for Humanity, the Salvation Army, clothes
closets, food banks, and low-income housing, the students spend several hours
each day engaged in a mission activity in the community. We were in Danville, Virginia, a city
devastated by the loss of industry and the economic collapse. Being from Lexington, we felt their pain!
On
my first youth trip back in 1974, I established a bunch of rules. We had not been at camp an hour before the
girls informed me that the boys brought beer with them—a major violation! I had only been at the church a few weeks and
wasn’t much older than some of our youth.
It was clear that I was being tested and I prayed for wisdom to handle
the situation in a redemptive way.
Rules
are rules, I thought; and the boys broke the rules in grand fashion! I called them in for a “Come to Jesus” meeting
and they feared the worst. If I had
followed the letter of the law, I was to call their parents and ask them to
come and take the boys home. But rather
than condemn these young sinners, I asked them what would happen when I informed
their parents of their transgression.
One boy started to cry. His daddy
was the sheriff; a no-nonsense, tough guy.
His son was convinced he would hang him on the courthouse lawn.
In
a moment that God most certainly directed (because I was scared the death), I
introduced the concept of grace. I would
forgive these boys, but it they EVER did anything like that again—I would
introduce the concept of judgment. The
boys were angels for the rest of the trip.
Looking back, it was that moment that defined my relationship with those
young people, a relationship formed by grace.
They didn’t just learn about the Gospel, they experienced it!
I
worked with those youth for four years and kept up with them for many years after. All of them, without exception, became great
leaders in their churches and communities.
The boy who cried became a respected political leader in the state of
Alabama. Gradually, the distance of time
and miles took their toll and I lost touch.
A
few years ago on Easter Sunday we had a visitor in the congregation. A mother
was taking her son to visit Wake Forest University. She had been one of the youth on that
memorable trip so many years ago. She
shared with me that the church had a reunion and most of my old youth group was
there. They started talking about me,
about that first youth camp, and we reconnected.
I
have learned that it is through mission trips and youth camps that lifelong
relationships are made. We may have been
the oldest chaperones at camp, but we wouldn’t take anything for the powerful
experience of sharing these dynamic formative moments with our wonderful young
people. We see lives changed and lifetime patterns of Christian service
established.
I
don’t talk much about rules anymore. Oh,
we have rules, but if you have a relationship based on respect, trust, and love
you don’t need to worry too much about them.
I don’t think our kids broke any of the rules, well, except curfew—but
what do I care! At my age, staying up
past 10:00 pm is a curfew violation!
Let the kids have fun! They will
remember it for a lifetime.
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