Cybercolumn by Brett Younger: To camp or not to camp

Posted: 6/16/06

CYBER COLUMN:
To camp or not to camp

By Brett Younger

It’s that magical time of year when pastors ask, “Do I want to join extremely young people and only a few truly adult sponsors for five days without long pants?”

These are completely acceptable excuses for missing youth camp:

• “I need a silent, individual prayer retreat.”

• “My own child will feel uncomfortable if I am there.”

• “Someone else’s child will feel uncomfortable if I am there.”

• “I can’t be away from my church/family/sanity that long.”

Before they choose an excuse, pastors should realize that if they actually attend youth camp, they will learn a great deal.

Every adult who goes to camp learns they are prehistoric. At 35, I entered a three-on-three basketball tournament. Early in the game, when I was still running, I tried to steal the ball. A young punk warned his teammate by yelling, “Old guy!” The high point came when the kid I was pretending to guard asked how old I was. When I answered, “57” he responded, “You’re not bad for 57.”

You may be surprised to learn that Led Zeppelin is popular again. (Maybe there’s hope for Barry Manilow.)

If you get up at 7 a.m., you will always have hot water, but the older you get, the more sleep you need.

After four days, it seems perfectly normal to eat French fries at every meal.

Don’t participate in the talent show unless you have a talent.

You may think this is obvious, but it wasn’t to me—don’t dance if there is a video camera in the room.

After a few days, some things at camp will seem almost amusing, but none of this is to be tried at home!

You may smile at unfortunate incidents involving shaving cream, Saran Wrap and baby oil, but do not begin to believe that the amused-by-water-guns person you are at camp is the real you.

I learned that I should not try to wake myself up in the morning like the youth at First Baptist Church in Austin do. They first sing “If you’re happy and you know it” in Swedish, “Ah la vis ma ha ta turka klappa nu.” (Try it.) Each person quickly pours a cup of coffee into a cup of ice and chug-a-lugs it as fast as possible. I was once invited to give a brief speech (“You people are like skydivers to me”) and join them. It wakes you up, but if you do this at home, you will feel stupid.

One of the clearest “this is not the real me” experiences was serving as the unenthusiastic coach for Monday Mega-madness—a 10-stage relay race. We threw our shoes into the center, ran to the middle, put on our shoes, and ran back. Pairs of participants sat on one another’s feet and inched their way to the center. The boys formed a circle around the girls and ran to the center. Two participants from each team ran to the center and spun around a baseball bat 10 times. We jumped on the ground and formed a flat pyramid. The team lay on the ground side by side and rolled one person, the “surfer,” to the inside. (I wish I were making this up). Two players rode piggyback to the center, then carried a third on a wet towel to the center. Each team member stepped through a Hula Hoop while holding hands. For a few isolated seconds, I almost enjoyed Monday Mega-madness, but I was more than happy to skip Wacky Water Wednesday.

I may sound a tad sarcastic, but the truth is that I love youth camp—until about 10 each night, and then I hate it until 7 the next morning.

Seven years ago, I was the pastor at youth camp. About 1 in the morning, I heard a ruckus in the hall. I climbed out of bed to go do my imitation of an assistant principal. I opened my door, shouted, “Hey!” and gave them a minute to run back into their rooms. They all scattered, except for one, who was locked out.

He was a junior in high school. He wasn’t from my church, but he came to camp with our church. He stood in the hall, locked out of his room, completely naked.

I said, “Paul, you’re standing in the hall at 1 completely naked. Can you explain that?”

Paul said, “I was sleepwalking.”

“Paul, I’m pretty sleepy, but I don’t believe that.”

“I didn’t think you would, sir.”

“Paul, why don’t you knock on your own door, put on some pajamas and go to sleep?”

“Yes, sir.”

I assumed that was the end of it, but it wasn’t. The next day, teenagers told me that there was a rumor that I “had caught a naked camper outside at 3 a.m. and called the cops, and who was it?”

I saw Paul, clothed this time, and suggested that he not mention our encounter to anyone. He said: “I wish you’d told me that earlier. I just got interviewed by the camp paper.”

The next day, there was a lengthy article on the front page. When I got up to preach that night, no one was thinking, “I must listen carefully for the word of God.” They were thinking, “There’s the old guy who caught the naked guy.”

I was happy not to have any contact with Paul for seven years—until a couple of weeks ago. I received a note that while I was in a meeting, “Paul, the sleepwalker from youth camp” came by the church to say hi. He left a phone number. We had a delightful conversation. Paul is now engaged. He’s a youth minister and a seminary student.

If you had asked me seven years ago to name the youth least likely to become a minister, I would have picked Paul, but I was wrong. Things change. People change. God changes people.

Ministers go to camp knowing they may end up extracting marbles with their toes from a wading pool filled with pancake batter, but they should also know that the grace of God is at work in surprising ways.

Brett Younger is pastor of Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth and the author of Who Moved My Pulpit? A Hilarious Look at Ministerial Life, available from Smyth & Helwys (800) 747-3016. You can e-mail him at byounger@broadwaybc.org.

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