It all began the summer before. It must have been a sermon at church or something like that which began the thought process in my mind that I needed to make a commitment to God. I loved Bible Camp. I decided that I would wait till Bible camp to be baptized. Not sure that was a good way to make a decision, but that was in my heart. I remember well that year of camp. My father loved camps and started Whitewater Bible Camp I think in 1966. Every year before school would begin lots of kids would gather at the camp and spend a week. Classes, sermons, singing, playing ball, volleyball, meeting new friends, memorizing, plays, skits, and lots of standing straight for tribe judging.
It was a Thursday night- Don Jessup was preaching. I’m not sure if I wanted to go to heaven or just wanted to avoid hell; either way, I wanted to follow Jesus. I remember sitting by my friend Julie, and we both went. Her father baptized a whole bunch of kids that night. The song was, “Lord I’m coming home”. It was a cool night in August, the stream was running swiftly and we hiked down past the boys dorms through the woods to a place deep enough to baptize. It was cold, but I didn’t feel the cold. It was scary but I wasn’t scared. I knew this was something God wanted me to do, the Bible told me to do and I was ready. I had no idea of what living for Christ really meant but that’s pretty typical when we make decisions. We really don’t know what’s in store, we just know it’s the right decision. What I remember more than the cold water, the rocks under my feet and the strong hands of those helping was when I came out I felt so clean, so different and so happy. I felt like crying, screaming and laughing all at the same time. I remember shaking with the cold but feeling so different.
As I stood by the river on the bridge the other day as we went hiking at Whitewater State Park and looked at the old group campgrounds, lots of memories came right back to the heart. And many years, almost half a century, has passed and would I change that one moment in time? Would I go back to that ten year old’s heart an do it over? I would in a second. I have walked many miles since taking that step into the chilly waters of Whitewater River. I have stepped over logs I should have walked around. I have fallen over rocks I should have seen. I have gone the long way rather than taking the simple path. I have seen births, deaths and lots of tears in between. And yet, most of what God wants of me is to simply keep the faith of that 10 year old little girl who just wanted to obey. In many ways I still feel like that little girl. In many ways I would love to go back to the singing, the praise and worship around the campfire, the skits, the plays, the bonding with people who have become some of my closest friends. That in itself is what has made my faith walk meaningful. The worship today is different; I don’t relate. People don’t seek out relationships with people as much and we all seem too busy to stop and sit and talk. I did that the other day. Sat and talked with friends all afternoon. When I left, I felt ridiculously refreshed! Why don’t I do that more often? The busyness of life gets us sidetracked from the moments of simply being a friend, loving and mentoring. We are, in most aspects, all 10 year old kids with the faith to move mountains but find ourselves in adult bodies with big problems and too busy to just sit by the fire and sing, “Pass it on.” We can never go back again, but sometimes, it’s a really neat thing to let our minds go back and enjoy the moments of our past. To be a kid once again. To smell the campfire. To get our tray of food and pull down the lever of the “all you can drink milk machine” and fill the glass to the very top. To sit down and eat with friends and laugh. To share our heart around the picnic table and line up from shortest to tallest and stand real still. And it all began the summer before when I began to think that Jesus needed to be a big part of my life.
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