From mountains to youth camp to discovering where my strength comes from

“I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains?” Psalm 121:1 (The Message)

Well, it wasn’t the strength of my youth, but it sure was an opportunity to escape … at least for a week. It wasn’t up in the mountains, but at place that I considered paradise. My ideal assignment as pastor would have been the director, but alas that wasn’t in the “cards” so to speak.

I’m speaking of the Youth Camp in Leesburg, Fl.

Each summer I would be one of thousands of campers who would load up on buses or pile into cars and head to central Florida. The land of heat and mosquitoes. The cabins were not air conditioned and the bathrooms and showers were in a central location down a dirt path. But was my kind of paradise. Something that I looked forward to each summer.

To this day I can close my eyes and remember … the early morning devotions on the silver benches down by the lake, the dinning hall and KP duty, the craft huts, small discussion groups, the games, folk dancing, the closing chapel services and the Lord’s Prayer being played over the speakers as the sounds of the night came flooding in through the open windows.

I looked forward to this experience every chance I could get. I would be the first one to sign up for the experience. The first one to send off my reservation slip. I was ready … just tell me when.

It was the place that I looked to as the place to have my faith strengthened. It was the mountain top experience. It was the Path of Silence and quiet nights on the docks looking at the blue outlined cross floating on the lake. It was my solitude. It was an escape. Like church, it was a place of freedom, love and an instrument of grace. It was the place that I found God more real than a thousand worship services, ten thousand MYF meetings and never ending Sunday school programs.

Every summer I become a little nostalgic for those summer days. Life seemed more simple then. Everything had its place and everything fit into place. It all made logical sense. It was predictable. I knew what was expected of me and I knew what was around the next corner. It was a special time … the lost days of my youth.

But we all grow up and move on to more adult experiences and heavier responsibilities. The matters which confront us now are weightier with far reaching implications for everyone we touch. There are little opportunities to escape, except with a vacation week here or there.

Yet within it all there is a longing … a hoping … a wishing … that just maybe this summer the recapturing of those summer camp days might become reality. And yet, through it all we are reminded our help doesn’t come via a summer camp or memories or recaptured youth experiences … our help comes only from God, regardless of our age, needs or desires.

And so, we can look to the mountains and wish, long, hope, dream, but help is found only in God. But, wouldn’t be nice … at least just once … to be able to return to those lost days of a youthful summer and live through some of those rich experiences once again?

Oh, if it was only possible … and so I close my eyes allowing my spirit to be transported back and savor the sweet memory of a time lost in the turning of the calendar pages.