Now i've been to plenty of youth camps before, mind you - tons of them. But i'm use to camps that pamper their campers with games, good food, and 6 hours of free time a day. So when the neighborhood boys from the rough part of town who've been apprehensive to come to church asked about it, I told them it was gonna be a blast. "we'll have water games, mud wars, archery, swimming... and maybe one hike.....one."
Well that's not how Camp Eagle swings. Yes it was fun, and yes, they do a great job... with kids who come from a churched culture. But these inner city kids we brought just weren't having it. I myself was struggling to keep up with the fact that we had to hike for 45 minutes to get ANYWHERE.
Needless to say... a rebellion began. I broke up fights, chased kids a mile and half down the roads that led to nowhere, policed some language that would make Quentin Tarantino blush, and confiscated drugs (don't worry, he assured me they weren't his. Someone must have put them in his bag.)
I spent time with these kids and helped them through the moments when it seemed like the whole camp, chalk full of white kids from the suburbs, was watching them in disapproval. When they we're exhausted and cussing me out, I sat and waited. When they were sitting a room by themselves, waiting to be sent home - waiting for the hammer to drop - waiting to be kicked out like they had been before, we talked. About nothing - about everything - about music - about the Gospel.
And on the very last night I got to stand in the back of the pavilion, overlooking the river, exhausted, dirty, hot, at a loss... but joyful. Because, the very hardest one of them all, the kid who was quickest to throw a punch and slowest to smile, met Jesus. He was sure. He was positive and he wanted to tell everyone that night and be baptized by us. As I stood at the back with my head in my arms, singing, praying and crying, i felt a nerdy little hand on my back. It was Bradley. 4 feet tall, knock knees and size 12 shoes, bradley is easily the nerdiest kid in this great state of Texas. But Bradley's heart is big, his smile is genuine, and his spirit is sweet.
"Tell me what's going on buddy." He said looking up at me with his glasses hanging on for dear life at the tip of his nose. "nothing buddy, i'm good." "Ok, well dont be sad if you are." "ok bradley, i won't be."
And I wasn't.
That week beat the life out of me. But that night we baptized, who I thought was, the least likely to inherit the kingdom that week. I was reminded why I love youth ministry. Those inner-city kids reminded me, Bradley reminded me, being used and seeing results reminded me.
And now i'm leaving... and it sucks. I'm excited for the next chapter, but i'll miss playing apart in the rest of this one.
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