A Church Camp Comedy of Errors

Me before and after summer camp.

REBOOTCAMP

There is a 36 year time span between the two Top Gun movies. I've not yet seen the new one, but the feedback I've received says Tom Cruise, the movie's hero then and now, looks and acts incredible despite the years, and reviews note how remarkable it is that a seemingly ageless Cruise continues to do his own stunts.

OK - 36 years is a significant difference from 20, but still, I felt a bit like ol’ Maverick pulling up to the dock at Esperanza to take on a kids camp - my first since 2002. I figured this would be a sweet reboot: Sure I'm 20 years older, but I don't feel any different...in fact, I am in better physical, mental, and spiritual health than I was at 21. Back then, I was chubby - bogged down from beer, college food and poor sleeping habits, and lacked the life experience that has since led to (I pray!) wisdom and maturity. If I could lead kids through the wilderness and to the cross back then, surely I can do it now in spades.

I taught archery. The kiddo on the left scored a bullseye.

Something else manifested that was the same as back then, which I didn't anticipate: a defiant spirit against rules and authority that I determined did not apply to me; both camps presented conditions I decided didn’t deserve my submission.

In 2002 at the Lutheran camp, one of the directors showed favoritism to certain staffers, sometimes borderline inappropriately, wrestling, tickling, and teasing them with just a little too much interest. This is the kind of stuff the 🙄 emoji was created for (sadly I think it’s my most used). I was jealous and felt underappreciated, and when I finally did the math on what I was being paid per hour to eat, sleep and breathe with these crazy kids all summer long, I entitled myself to my own set of subversive rules for the rest of the summer which included prohibited beer, petty food theft, and more slacker sleeping habits; yes, I got even chubbier at camp.

Wilderness guiding; Minnesota, 2002 (She looks so innocent...)

DIVISION AMONG THE RANKS

The minute I set foot on the dock, I sensed tension in the sea breeze. I kept a reflective check on myself, just in case it was emanating from within. But it was not just me.

Esperanza has been running kids camps for nearly 80 years. Esperanza’s current-but-exiting directors (retiring from the position in September) have been part of the scene for around 20. Due to Covid, the camp was suspended for the past few years, but when I visited Esperanza in February to help initiate an inventory check, it felt as if the program had halted a decade or more ago. Gear was strewn about in random buildings, items were broken and molding…there was a sense of atrophy - it reminded me of Sleeping Beauty in the scene where the royal party is put under a time-freezing spell and conch out right at the table, where cobwebs settle on everything…

With the OG Esperanza directors

So it is understandable how, when the new directors arrived in the Spring to help resurrect the camp, they may have gotten a sense of it being defunct. But herein lies the tension: rather than reviving what had been, Esperanza was being treated as a forfeited outpost, now the occupied territory of a Saskatchewan Evangelical takeover.

I first assumed well-meaning ignorance. But one of the new directors told me it was difficult to run an old model when none of the previous participants were there to assist. I stared at her blankly: the current directors are here! When I mentioned this, she diminished their significance, saying they only worked in the kitchen, suggesting they didn’t have the kind of expertise she’d need. This confused me, and then grieved me when I had a conversation with the old director that ended in tears; after years of blood, sweat and prayers, she felt she’d been sloughed off to the side.

Those old feelings of being underappreciated at camp were conjured up, and my loyalty to Esperanza as I have known it up until now lit the fires of fidelity; I was dangerously approaching Defiance Mode.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE CAMPFIRE SONG

Saskatchewanian silly songs with hand motions

I was brought on to lead worship at the “chapel” sessions. Having not just camp counselling on my resume, but also many years of experience as a camper, I arrived well-versed in the importance of The Campfire Song.

The right campfire song at the right moment can be the tipping point for the child. It can invoke an altar call then and there before the fire ring next to the marshmallow skewers; initiate their first real spiritual conversation one-on-one with a cabin leader; lead into late night sleepover-style Gospel discussions in the cabin: contraband candy and Christ.

There’s of course no mystical magical power in a song itself, but it’s the sacred space the soulful sound creates, paired with folkloric fire crackling, sparks spinning up to heaven with the voices of children - sweet-smelling incense to the Lord…a conflicted youth poking at the glowing logs with a stick, outwardly demonstrating Jesus poking at the embers of his heart…

As a camper at Camp Geneva, Michigan - c.1993

This is the responsibility - the gift - I was well aware of, and honored to take on as worship leader for this Esperanza boys’ camp. One of the Esperanza board members asked me to put together a revised camp songbook. He gave me full autonomy over the selection. Church friends, who also had camp experience, helped me arrange a collection of classics and new favorites. I spoke with the teachers leading the chapel discussions to coordinate their topics with thematic music.

In other words, this was not my first rodeo, and a lot of care and forethought went into the worship.

When I arrived, however, my preparation and leadership was dismissed. Through flat expressions, it was clear I had not included the “proper” songs. I was also told to turn the volume down, and cut back on the number of songs per session (I was only doing three). They also divorced the worship music from the campfire, which as noted above, are most effective when done together. The “music” at the campfire time were their classics, lead by them - silly songs with goofy hand motions and nonsense lyrics…not the kind that would bring any kid to their knees.

🙄

Defiance settled in: if my leadership autonomy is stripped, then I see no need to attend the crack-of-dawn “team leader” meetings. Liz outie.

This is a rebel song...

QUARANTINE: THE FINAL BLOW(out)

I had a rebel informant who attended the meetings and relayed pertinent intel. He couldn’t enter my headquarters because another one of the Saskatchewanian rules was that men were not allowed in the (large community) building where women staffers were rooming, so we’d rendezvous and stroll the verboten areas beyond the established boundaries (more rules breed more opportunities for rebellion).

The Informant.

A couple days into the camp, one of our teachers and craft leaders didn’t show up. I was told she had been quarantined. Was she deathly ill with The Coof? No. She has gastrointestinal dysfunction: the poops. This is hardly surprising, considering the stress of preparing for camp, the less than simple travel it takes to get to Esperanza, and a few days’ worth of camp cuisine. (This is why I made my own food.)

There was nothing contagious or dangerous about this poor woman, who took significant time out of her schedule to volunteer at the camp, prepping her lesson and intricate craft for weeks in advance. Additionally, two other women who were staying with her, were forced to vacate the premises and find another cabin, the only one available had no bathroom, so they had to use the camp shower house.

An overt backlash began. A faction of us marched down to the quarantine cabin, bringing lockdown lady food, supplies, and company. We hauled couches and tables onto the deck so she could watch the goings on. The camp directors certainly knew by now that there was dissension, but rather than address it with us face to face, they sent the camp nurse to chastise us; even she agreed this was unnecessary, but chose to be diplomatic and oblige the orders.

Building cardboard arks.

FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHILDREN

You may be thinking by now: are there other kids at this camp besides y’all? The fodder of adults at a kids camp acting like stompy teenagers and playing mini war games with each other is not lost on me - it would make a good summer comedy-of-errors flick starring Paul Rudd, Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn.

It’s important to understand the tension was not because of a power struggle between each other, but a debate over what each thought was going to be best for the boys: Esperanza had their tried and true version, the Saskatchewan crew had their well-trodden methodology, a number of us were bringing in our own personal experiences from the past, and I dare say all of us were honestly trying to leave room for the Spirit to have a go.

Derby car racing.

It boils down to poor communication, lack of establishing a cohesive group dynamic through bonding exercises, assumption-based assignments, and “beggars can’t be choosers.” The decision to run the camp this year after the Covid hiatus was a bold move, considering most well-oiled camps start planning the coming season close to a year in advance, with a hearty template and pre-existing staff to simply tweak. We were attempting to pull this off as a hodgepodge of volunteers from disparate backgrounds with a vast spectrum of leadership experience, tangled gear and spider-ridden supplies, within a matter of months.

Worship service before the campers arrive.

The directors didn’t speak with us prior to our arrival, and while admitting they couldn’t have operated the camp if it weren’t for groups of volunteers coming in to help, they had trouble letting us do so in the way we had prepared as a team ahead of time. When we arrived, tired but enthusiastic, we were immediately plopped into a series of droning meetings reading through a staff manual that mostly consisted of what we were not allowed to do; I literally felt the collective enthusiasm drain and the exhaustion build, as it did through the entire week, as cabin leaders were granted only an hour of break each day. One of our leaders said kidding-not-kidding that if he had to lead one more day, he would tie an anchor to himself and jump off the dock - and he was one of the younger volunteers!

WHAT’S IN AN AGE?

Which circles back to my opening statements about returning to camp 20 years older. What role did physical age and inner maturity play? Interestingly, the net result was even: while I am in better shape physically and had more stamina (read: I wasn’t staying up late drinking beer the night before a major paddle), I had less desire to be involved in energetic activities; while I am more wizened, I didn’t have as much camper interaction through which to implement it, since this was a boys only camp and I was not a cabin leader.

Camp Counselling, Michigan 2000 (must have been Capture the Flag day...)

And in terms of Defiance Mode, while it was present in both cases, it stemmed from a different source: in 2002, I was behaving as a jilted-prideful-entitled 21 year old who was simply rebelling against what I didn't approve of. In 2022, I was an experienced adult who knew my value and skill set but was unable to fully utilize it, so simply chose not to engage. The difference is that at 21, I was reacting emotionally with little regard for who it affected, including myself; at 41, I was reading the room and proactively making decisions full-well knowing consequences and outcomes. Last time, I was out on some secret scampy mission to punish someone or something. If my behavior went undetected, it was because I was being sneaky. This time, regardless of any decision I made, I maintained grace for my opponents; I was not trying to be undetected, but rather leave as little of a footprint as possible, out of honest respect.

Lake Superior, 2002

Esperanza Inlet, 2022

In the end, I believe everyone involved in the camp had the same goal: keep the kids safe, make sure they have a blast, and share the Gospel with them. All of this was accomplished. The adults’ reindeer games never once impacted the kids, who were cherished, nurtured and played with by all. We watched the boys bond and grow together over the week, and to my utter delight, a few who knew next to nothing about Jesus, began asking probing questions one night around the fire, and wanted to take a Bible home. This would not have happened if all of us, despite our differences, had not facilitated an environment in which the Spirit could move, and I’m grateful to the directors for being able to answer those questions on the spot, and for the space they worked very hard to create that could bring about sweet testimonies such as these.

I also would not have witnessed this beautiful moment if I did not have the maturity to reject my rebel spirit telling me to peace out. I engagingly attended the campfire sessions, even if my music wasn’t welcomed. I even sang the silly songs with the hand motions.

I now know the reason summer camp employees are generally teens: they still enjoy running around with kids, and they are more likely to follow marching orders. And there’s definitely a reason most camps do counsellor training and group preparation beforehand. We lacked both these components, did the best we could, and pulled it off - yes - in spades (thanks to the help of the Holy Spirit!).

My own son was at the camp and exclaimed to the director, “This is the best camp I’ve ever been to!” And this coming from a boy who didn’t get along with his cabin mates at the beginning of the week, and who got sick halfway through (was not quarantined). By the end, he was running down the dock, jumping up and down, vigorously waving to the boys who made him cry, who he had grown to love enough to hate saying goodbye.

An exuberant farewell.

I’ll never forget the moment when the director looked at our misfit haggard volunteer church group, raised an eyebrow and said, “Let’s be honest…usually the camp staff is - well - much younger than you guys are…”

🙄

Thanks for the pep-talk. I wonder if anyone said that to Tom Cruise when he announced he’d be doing his own stunts.

Keeping the Esperanza tradition of counsellors diving off the dock as campers depart.