Week 1

I love the smell of sulfur. Kind of weird, yes - but before you judge me, I must tell you why. I love that smell because it is the smell of camp. The water at camp has very high levels of sulfur, so every year when I arrive, I breathe in that nasty smell, and a flood of sweet memories come flooding into my brain. It's a beautiful thing.

Camp is that place where big things always happened. Everything sort of came together there. In fact, I'm thinking this moment of the year when I fought with Candi alllllllll the time, and after getting back from camp, realized that I was the one in the wrong all those times. Camp was the place I accepted Jesus as my King and Savior. Camp is where I surrendered Bible School to God after clutching onto it for so long.

I got the opportunity to serve at camp again this year. That good ol' smell of sulfur greeted me as I stepped out of the car. The levels are high this year, so it smells like I'm showering in rotten eggs. Bah - I don't mind. :) It's the smell of camp! Anyway, my job the first week was hostess. That does not mean I seated the campers when they came in for dinner. It meant that I was in charge of a crew of seven kitchen helpers. They did the work, I made sure it got done. Sounds easy, but it's plenty of work, believe me.

There is a lot to say about camp, and I see that I've already given you four paragraphs that have not a whole lot to do with what I want to say. So here goes. This year, I didn't feel like I really cared that I was at camp. Oh sure, it was great to be here, but I didn't feel like spending time with the kids. I didn't feel like talking to them or hanging out with them or learning their names. Granted, the kitchen is a bit removed from all the action, but we still function FOR THE KIDS... and I was having trouble connecting.

The beautiful thing about serving, however, is that it gives your heart the opportunity to return to the right place. God graciously reminded me of the Genesis account of Rebecca's response to Abraham's servant - "May I water your camels also?" This isn't totally random; rather, it resounded in my heart that Rebecca didn't know that her actions would change many lives. Regardless of my feelings, I had to trust that God was at work though me. Was it an easy task for Rebecca to give all those camels water? Certainly not! Did she have to do it? No. She could have gone the easy route and continued with her happy little life without making the sacrifice of extra work. But she didn't choose what was easy - she chose what was good and right. She didn't know that those few words would change her life, but she said them anyway. So my heart kept saying, "May I water your camels also?" Not exactly the words and actions it wanted - but that it knew were good and right. And truly, by the time Thursday rolled around, I knew that I was at camp for the right reasons.

I also spent a bit of time catching up on Bible. I found myself reading in 1 Kings, where Solomon builds the temple. He finishes it, then all of Israel gathers and Solomon prays a to God and says many things. Two things stood out to me in the passage. One, that God is faithful in His promises and that we can and OUGHT to depend on Him to accomplish them. Two, Solomon mentions in his prayer to God that although it was David who wanted to build the temple, God used Solomon to do the actual building. David did indeed gather supplies for it and was a huge part of God's work in building it, but he didn't ever see it completed - Solomon did.

This is such a picture of what happens at camp "One plants, another waters, but it is God who causes the growth" and we may not know what part we got to play - but the fact is that God's word does not return void. He is at work in the lives of these campers though the staff. We may not get to see His work completed, but we can trust that we get to be part of it.

Seems like these always become much longer than I intend. I'll catch you up on week 2 next weekend.

Nighttime Reflections

I miss Hungary. I miss the liver paste on sandwiches, and Hungarian accents. I miss hearing people say "hello" when they ought to be saying "goodbye". I miss my dungeon. I miss peach juice. I miss tucking  the kids in; snuggling with Miriam, Benjamin's laugh, Oliver's dimples. I miss Melinda's wisdom and conversations, and Matt's easy-going nature. I miss those sweet times with Jesus in the evenings after all is quiet.

All that doesn't have very much to do with the rest of this post.

I wrote earlier this year that I wanted to learn to care only for God's opinion, resting fully in my identity in Him. In essence, I wanted to begin drawing my security solely from Christ. These things take time, but I think I am learning.

In Texas, for example, when the singles invited me to take part in their house group one evening, and all I did was put my foot in my mouth the whole time. God's answer to my frustration was quite clearly, Well, you're security isn't in your performance, dear -- your security is Me.

Then during the mission trip with the Ravencrest group, one of the guys made a passing comment about my personality that penetrated me much deeper than he meant it to. But Christy, your personality is not your security. I am.

There was an instance in Hungary when I got pretty angry and hurt (and self-righteous, too) about something that happened on a train - and the Lord simply reminded me, Dear heart, you are upset because you are drawing your security from the wrong things. I am your security. Rest in that.

Sometimes He has to remind me a lot, because I forget a lot. But I am glad to be learning to be secure in Christ.

This world pushes a lot of lies at us about how we ought to look and act. It is, in fact, very rare to find someone (especially us girls - why is that?) who is secure. It's even rarer to find a single woman who is secure. And of course, with summer coming, we're all criticizing our bodies and wishing we looked better in shorts. We're so insecure.

This is why those words, Christy, I am your security, resound so powerfully in my soul when they come from Christ. Suddenly all those things I mentioned are but dim shadows of yesterday. My fears and insecurities are eclipsed by the reality of His life. I cease striving to attain the world's flimsy standard. My soul breathes again. I trust Him. I am at rest.

My security is not my body,
Nor is it in performance;
It isn't in how much I know
Or speaking it with eloquence.
Security is not in morality;
Tis not sustained upon success;
Depends not how others respond,
Failure, what we possess.
My security is found alone in Thee;
For Thou art my Rock and my Salvation;
My deliverer and Fortress;
My Stronghold - I shall not be shaken.