Youth camp. It's not just for youth.
I'm a YPW - a youth pastor's wife. It's completely different from being a wife or even being a pastor's wife. There is an energy that abounds, an electricity in the air, an enthusiasm that most adults simply don't have. My husband IS a youth pastor. He doesn't DO youth pastor. It's what he is. Who he is. I, on the other hand, am not. I worked with teens for a number of years, but the energy level was beyond me. I couldn't keep up, so I gave up. My husband is still going strong.
Each year we have two events for which I dust off my youthworker cap and gown: our winter retreat and youth camp. At youth camp, I've honed my role to an art. After many years of trial and error, I have it down. I'm the camp mom. Some of the kids even call me "Mom" that week. I plan meals, shop, cook, clean up, run errands, care for anyone who falls ill, bandage cuts, etc. etc. I focus on the practical, so my husband and the counselors can focus on God and the kids.
I do those things while my husband, the counsellors, and the kids attend worship services and seminars. They hang out during their free time, play cards, swim, and altogether spend the week enjoying the presence of God and each other. Mine is an exhausting, thankless role, and there is really nothing I like about doing it. Every year, when we get home, I make the decision to never go again.
This year was different.
This year, our number of campers doubled from that of last year's camp. In the two months before we left, I was literally having panic attacks over it. I lost sleep. I was about as close to the definition of "beside myself" as I've ever been. My YPH (Youth Pastor Husband) was kind and sympathetic, yet insistent regarding how much they needed me. I prayed about it (constantly), and as I prayed, I was convinced that I was supposed to go. So I did, but I went under protest and with a condition. I told God that He had to work a miracle in me or I was done. I would tell Marc (my YPH) that camp was off my calendar from here on out.
Each morning after getting the campers off, I took time to pray. I took time to listen. I was open for God to work a miracle. I was desperate for it. To my surprise, He did it. He began by showing me the ugliness in my own heart. Each morning, He showed me something new.
I saw my pride, and I was humbled by His gentleness and kindness. I saw how I thought serving in this manner was beneath me; how I thought my gifts could be better used some other way. This was too lowly. Serving like this was like being a...well...like being a servant. Gasp! Not that. Not a servant of all things!
And I sensed God ask me, "would I be in the wrong if My only purpose in creating you was to be Marc's helper in what I've created him to do?"
Ouch.
"Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you?
I lay my hand on my mouth.
I have spoken once, and I will not answer;
twice, but I will proceed no further.”
Job 40: 4-5
So, what did learn at youth camp this year? More than I learned in all the other years of camp put together. I learned more than all my complaining and anxiety could ever gain me. I learned that even in the face of my ugliness and sin, God is kind and gracious and gentle. He is slow to anger, patient, and tender. I learned that He is God, and I am not.
I'm a YPW - a youth pastor's wife. It's completely different from being a wife or even being a pastor's wife. There is an energy that abounds, an electricity in the air, an enthusiasm that most adults simply don't have. My husband IS a youth pastor. He doesn't DO youth pastor. It's what he is. Who he is. I, on the other hand, am not. I worked with teens for a number of years, but the energy level was beyond me. I couldn't keep up, so I gave up. My husband is still going strong.
Each year we have two events for which I dust off my youthworker cap and gown: our winter retreat and youth camp. At youth camp, I've honed my role to an art. After many years of trial and error, I have it down. I'm the camp mom. Some of the kids even call me "Mom" that week. I plan meals, shop, cook, clean up, run errands, care for anyone who falls ill, bandage cuts, etc. etc. I focus on the practical, so my husband and the counselors can focus on God and the kids.
I do those things while my husband, the counsellors, and the kids attend worship services and seminars. They hang out during their free time, play cards, swim, and altogether spend the week enjoying the presence of God and each other. Mine is an exhausting, thankless role, and there is really nothing I like about doing it. Every year, when we get home, I make the decision to never go again.
This year was different.
This year, our number of campers doubled from that of last year's camp. In the two months before we left, I was literally having panic attacks over it. I lost sleep. I was about as close to the definition of "beside myself" as I've ever been. My YPH (Youth Pastor Husband) was kind and sympathetic, yet insistent regarding how much they needed me. I prayed about it (constantly), and as I prayed, I was convinced that I was supposed to go. So I did, but I went under protest and with a condition. I told God that He had to work a miracle in me or I was done. I would tell Marc (my YPH) that camp was off my calendar from here on out.
Each morning after getting the campers off, I took time to pray. I took time to listen. I was open for God to work a miracle. I was desperate for it. To my surprise, He did it. He began by showing me the ugliness in my own heart. Each morning, He showed me something new.
I saw my pride, and I was humbled by His gentleness and kindness. I saw how I thought serving in this manner was beneath me; how I thought my gifts could be better used some other way. This was too lowly. Serving like this was like being a...well...like being a servant. Gasp! Not that. Not a servant of all things!
And I sensed God ask me, "would I be in the wrong if My only purpose in creating you was to be Marc's helper in what I've created him to do?"
Ouch.
"Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer you?
I lay my hand on my mouth.
I have spoken once, and I will not answer;
twice, but I will proceed no further.”
Job 40: 4-5
So, what did learn at youth camp this year? More than I learned in all the other years of camp put together. I learned more than all my complaining and anxiety could ever gain me. I learned that even in the face of my ugliness and sin, God is kind and gracious and gentle. He is slow to anger, patient, and tender. I learned that He is God, and I am not.
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