Finding My Wings Part Two

The summer I walked onto the grounds of a Christian camp for teens, I had no idea I was going to be exposed to things I had never seen. I was oblivious that my life was going to dramatically change.This is a photo of me around the time I went to camp.

Ironically, the theme of the camp was "a man called Jesus..." I began to get answers about who Jesus really was and, for the first time, I remember feeling intrigued. The more I learned about Jesus, the more I understood that he didn't care what I looked like on the outside or how well I followed a set of rules;which was therapy for my middle school awkwardness. No, quite the opposite. He, in fact, had no expectations of me. Jesus just wanted to love me and pour out his grace on me if only I would accept this gift from him. 

The camp challenged us physically during the day and our devotions dug deeper than the stories I had learned in Sunday School as a young girl. We were taught focus, determination, and trust. It caused us to exert not only our  bodily muscles, but also our spiritual muscles.

My favorite part was praise and worship at night. We would go to a picnic-like shelter, lined with wooden pews instead of picnic tables, called the "Arbor". A band that had guys with long hair, wearing jeans and skater shoes, would rock out under the stars. I would wear t-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops with my hair pulled back in a messy bun for these informal worship times. 

People would clap and raise their hands in praise to their King. Some were at the altar on their knees, faces planted in the mulch, bowing down in reverence to their Maker. Others were speaking in tongues and "falling out", overcome with the Holy Spirit. I imagined this to be similar to what worship was like in Heaven. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. We were engulfed by the still darkness and sparkling lights. It was us and the heavens above and we were on display for God and all the heavenly hosts to see. 

I must admit I was a little uncomfortable at the beginning of the week. If you've never seen this type of worship, it can be a little startling. But, then, as the week progressed, I couldn't help but feel the weight of God's presence under the Arbor. I slowly began to join in and gradually let my guard down. I no longer stood still. I began to listen to the words I was singing and feel the beat of the music; swaying my hips and lifting my hands. As I started to feel more at ease, it was as if someone started tearing down those misconceptions I had held for so long about what church should look like. I no longer needed a list of all the reasons I should follow Jesus. I just knew I wanted to because I was being drawn to him. I felt so filled I could burst.

One night, I felt a churning feeling in my chest; a heaviness. Before I new what was happening, I lifted my hands. Immediately, I realized my weakness in comparison to God's greatness. It was an overcoming feeling I had never felt before and I was awestruck. At that moment, all my inhibitions were crushed to smithereens and my worries pressed down. Suddenly, I was headed toward the altar. Strangely, it didn't feel like I was the one walking. I felt like I was being carried. 

That night I surrendered and accepted Jesus's gift of eternal life. I wasn't schooled biblically or even sure I had all the answers, but I couldn't deny what I experienced that hot, July evening under the stars.

The Arbor was arguably one of the most important places I will visit this side of Heaven. I still have my camp t-shirt. 

Vastly different from what I experienced as a young child, I walked away from camp that summer with a different view on "church".  

I learned that church is not a set of rules or a country club. I didn't need to wear a dress or look and act a certain way. I didn't need to try to work hard at being "Christiany". I didn't need to know how to speak the "right" way, pray the "right" way, or read the "right" version of the bible.

I learned, a church is (or should be) a place or a people of love and acceptance. A place where people of all different races and ethnicities, backgrounds and pasts, personalities and sexualities can come and feel the love of Jesus, who was and is a friend of sinners. Church is a place where we can admit our brokenness without judgement and "carry each other's burdens" (Gal 6:2). A place where we can gather together no matter how different we are, with one thing in common; that we can worship our Creator, who "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Ps 139:14) each one of us, with all our hearts.

The truth is, we all have different preferences and styles when it comes to the way we worship. I've never met two pastors alike or two churches alike. And, that's wonderful, because God made every one of so unique. There is nothing wrong with the conservative traditions of the church in which I grew up. As a child, I just didn't think there was any other "way". 

My argument is, that we not hold on so unswervingly to our traditions that we can't open our minds and our churches to welcome the preferences of people who may not have grown up in the church, or who are a younger generation in desperate need of the gospel to make it through their daily struggles.

Will you stop striving to act more "Christiany" and start living in His grace? Will you began to look inward at your own relationship with Christ, instead of being critical of what other Christians are doing? 



Please contact me at caraymail@gmail.com, for further discussion. What is "church" for you? Please read "Finding My Wings Part One", the first part of this two-part series.