EXTREME EDGINESS
Ah, Summer. To me, summer means busyness, bugs, and bunks. In our church, the kick-off of summer is one of the busiest times of the year, rivaling even that of Christmas! It begins with graduations and then Vacation Bible School and then camps over on Deer Island. This year, though, I got off lucky because I only had to serve as dean for one camp. So, last week, I was going the Explorer's Camp (ages 8-10). We had a full camp of wonderful kids who were able to see through all my best efforts at apparent grumpiness. Somehow they were able to realize that I really kinda liked them. Drat, foiled again!
I have to say that camp this year was, without a doubt, my most successful one to date. I attribute its success to the fact that more prayer went into this camp, both from Sheila and me and our congregation. Boy, am I glad we bathed this baby in prayer! There were many things that went wrong, but for each thing that fell through, backfired, or came unraveled, God had a better plan waiting in the wings. Praise God for his perfect, practical provision, and providence. (If you can say that ten times, fast, you're good!)
This year as my ode to camp I've chosen one male subject about whom to expound. Let's call him Bobby (not his real name). This eight-year-old bundle of energy must have shaved a good five or six years off my rapidly depleting reserve of life. How did he do it? He did it by being the human version of the hummingbird of danger. He flittered and fluttered, zigged and zagged from one potential near-death experience to the next.
One night we went on our usual whale watching tour. I am quite confident that Godzilla could have risen from the ocean and been stalking us and I wouldn't have even noticed. I was just too busy alternating between checking my pulse and yelling, screaming and dragging little Bobby away from one danger to the next. For example, everyone had been instructed to stay away from the edge of the wharf because there was a large drop-off to rocks and water below. However, little Bobby, without malicious intent, I must add, was drawn to the holes in the railing like a moth to the flame. He just couldn't help himself. So, for the two, (not three) hour tour, I kept seeing little Bobby's life pass before my eyes - sometimes by envisioning my hands around his neck. It was the longest two hours of my life!
Please don't get me wrong. Bobby wasn't a bad kid. He just couldn't help himself. Somehow his over-energetic curiosity short-circuited the warning bells that should have signaled danger. Hopefully, little Bobby will make it to being big Bobby. Hopefully, little Bobby's parents have a supernatural portion of energy, and patience. Hopefully, little Bobby is insured!
Spiritually, there are lots of little Bobby's running around these days. You see them falling off wharfs and being dashed on the rocks of ruin all the time. The Church just doesn't seem to be doing all that well when it comes to leaning over the edge. We somehow think we can entertain temptation and continue to resist the devil, but guess what? Ouch, them rocks, them rocks! A person on a diet doesn't hang out at Wendy's; neither does an alcoholic find strength to abstain while patronizing the local bar. But we Christians continue to put ourselves and our minds in dangerous places, then wonder why we fall! We really don't intend to fall, but we're just not watching the danger signs, nor are we listening to the voice that is warning us to back away from the edge. Are you looking over any edges now? Back away before you lose your balance!
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