When I was 11 years young, my parents sent me to Loose Moose Bible Camp as a prize for memorizing Scripture verses like “Be ye kind one to another.” I was beaten up twice that week by Bruce Johnson, the meanest kid this side of Harlem. Bruce had wrists as big as my thighs and tattoos the size of Bermuda. He was so unsaved that he couldn't even sing along on “Kum Ba Yah,” or “It Only Takes A Spark To Get A Fire Going.”
One afternoon Bruce used tuck shop money to coax me into the woods and threatened to kill me right there if I didn't yell certain words very loudly. Words I hadn't learned in Sunday school.
I got to thinking about Bruce the other day when one of our kids tugged on my sleeve and handed me a brochure for summer camp. Though I'm not eager to see any of the children beaten up, I must admit that there are several very good reasons we will send them to camp this year. Here are just a few:
- Peace. My wife Ramona and I had three children in three years, so each year when school is dismissed and mid-July rolls around, she threatens to run away from home. Camp has kept our marriage vibrant for more than 19 summers. One week of peace and serenity goes a long way in making up for the other 51.
- Babysitting. When someone offers to take the children off our hands, feed and entertain them for less than $2 an hour, I say, “Would you like them for the winter?” Of course, there's a downside to everything: Last year at camp my 10-year-old learned to drive a speedboat, dive off the rocks and shoot with live ammunition. He also heard Bible stories from Mr. Chadwick, an ex-con.
- Romance. Is there a better place to experience first-hand the ups and downs of relationships? I have yet to meet a guy who comes home from summer camp without at least three former girlfriends. Speaking from experience, I fell in love 16 times at camp and once kissed a girl named Patty Gilbert while she was working on a leather craft. I even asked her to marry me, but she said her boyfriend would kill her if she did.
- Music. Where else can you develop a deep and abiding love for great hymns of the faith like: “Get your elbows off the table Philip Callaway,” and “My hope is built on nothing less than Scofield's notes and Scripture Press.” Camp kids not only know these songs by heart, they can do the actions.
All right, I will get serious. Two reasons outweigh all the others when I think of sending our children to camp. They are simple:
Gratitude. For a month following camp, our children do not once complain about indoor plumbing, soft mattresses, or food that is dead when they eat it. Camp helps them appreciate the little things in life. Like clean utensils, shampoo and sleeping in a room with fewer than 20 people.
Grace. Remember Bruce? Well, that day in the woods as I cursed a blue streak, he stood by, smiling and laughing at me. “Louder!” he said, “I can't hear you!”
So you can imagine my surprise when that very night, I watched him stride to the front of a dusty old chapel and fall to his knees by a hand-carved altar. Bruce prayed out loud that night words I'll never forget: “Um…God,” he said, halting often, “if you're around here … well … I need some help. I'd like you to change me … nothin' else seems to work.”
The results were startling. God's grace has a way of changing us all, doesn't it? The very next day Bruce asked me to forgive him, and I did. And when it came time to leave he hugged me until my ribs squeaked and he cried like a 10-year-old — tattoos and all. Just the other day I was told that Bruce is a major in the Salvation Army.
In the summer he's Program Director at Loose Moose Bible Camp.
