Calling Christians at Camp Part 3

From the article "Calling Christians at Camp" in the Lutheran Forum by Chandler R. Carriker

Surrounded by the beauty of the Boundary Waters of Minnesota or the Smoky Mountains of western North Carolina, it can be easy to be over- come by the beauty of God’s creation to the point of getting theologically sloppy. Many a devotion in the midst

Outdoor ministry creates a time apart from our hurried lives for Christ to be revealed. It is not for us to make Christ revealed, but to journey with Christ to the place where this can happen more fully. The transfiguration of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel illustrates how this might work. Christ’s journey up the mountain with the three disciples is another addition to a long list of biblical hiking trips towards full presence of God, from Moses on Mt. Sinai to the nations streaming to “the mountain of the Lord” in Isaiah. Beyond geographical form, though, is the idea of retreat, removal of oneself, temporarily, to be in the presence of God. In the story of the transfiguration, though, it is Christ himself who leads the disciples to the mountain. It is not the faith of the disciples that makes the place holy, but the work of Christ. As Christ’s full glory is revealed on the mountaintop, he is joined by Moses and Elijah. The religious traditions in which the disciples have been raised are not tossed aside because of this glorious appearance of God in human form. Instead, this person Jesus has been, and will continue to be, a part of that same faith tradition. This was the force of the camper’s baptism I described above. The confirmands saw something taking place there at camp that connected directly to the faith life of their home congregations. Far too often camp and church fall victim to the modern plague of compartmentalization, as each seems to exist in a world outside the other. But by practicing the sacraments in the midst of hiking, crafts, and horseback riding, the compartmental walls crumble. The reverse holds true as well: what does it mean when our congregations feel foreign to young people on their return from an intense experience of Christ in another place? Peter’s rejected offer to make three dwellings so that the disciples could remain on the mountaintop with Christ is not unlike David’s offer to build a home for the Lord—he too was struck down, through the prophecy of Nathan. Peter and David shared the same wish dream, that the “mountaintop” could be preserved through their own handiwork. So many young people feel the same way after just a little time at camp. If the community here is so perfect, why should we leave? Why return to the “real world” of brokenness? Just as Christ insists that they must descend, leaders in outdoor ministry must diligently point towards the coming descent. It should not be confused with a pessimistic call to be realistic, lamenting that nothing this good can last and we must return to

the “real world.” The descent, in fact, is a call to ministry in the world. All that we teach in temporary Christian communities such as camps should point towards the church’s call to be the body of Christ to the world and for the sake of the world. The use of this language of “the real world” is not faithful. It should be abandoned. Just as the world revealed by Christ to the disciples on the mountaintop is a glimpse into the kingdom of the Lord—the true “real world”—camping communities formed around the Word, sacraments, and Christian fellowship should be lifted up as a reflection, seen in a mirror darkly, of the “real world” lived through Christ. While the National Study of Youth and Religion (2005) gave us much to celebrate about the spiritual life of our young disciples, there was a disturbing trend noted in how youth (and much of our society) conceives of God. A tentative conclusion drawn by the authors of this study is “that the de facto dominant religion among contemporary U.S. teenagers is what we might well call ‘Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.’” In brief, the creed for this faith is 1) God created the world and exists, 2) God’s desire for humanity is summed up in the Golden Rule, 3) the purpose of life is happiness and self-esteem, 4) God is not particularly involved in our lives, unless we need and ask for help, and 5) the good go to heaven.9 To place this tag solely on the faith of young people would be unfair; it is a reflection of the popular faith passed along to them. Just as Bonhoeffer called on intentional Christian community to

offer an alternative to the community of National Socialism, our intentional Christian community of camps and outdoor ministry might be essential places celebrating the particularity and specificity of the Christian faith. Such communities can learn together how to express that particularity and specificity in a grace-filled fashion in the midst of this increasingly pluralistic world. Learning how to speak the faith may be of greater importance at this time than learning how to be good.

There is a potential dark side even to Christian outdoor ministry. The 2006 documentary Jesus Camp is a startling look at the Kids on Fire summer camp in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, where children as young as six are molded into soldiers in “God’s Army” for the fight to “take back America for Christ.” In the most disturbing images, young people are broken down emotionally, exposed to the horrors and realities of abortion, and immersed in the “culture wars” that dominate the sermons in many pulpits in America. This film should be seen by everyone working in outdoor ministry (or even youth ministry in general) to understand the heights and the depths of power that camping ministry can hold over young disciples. Yet as disturbing as the message of the camp leaders is, two things must be credited to them. First, they take seriously the young people in their congregations. The message passed on, no matter how inappropriate, is not diluted into a pious desire to “protect the innocence” of their young disciples. Second, the role that the young people are called upon to play in “God’s Army” is seen as crucial to the fight to “take back America.” Their discipleship is not put on hold until they are voting members of the congregation. Now imagine replacing this politicized Christianity with the politic of the body of Christ. Instead of training young soldiers primarily to engage the rulings of the Supreme Court, we can see our camps as places where we take the opportunity to reorient their lives around the liturgical rhythms and the language of faith. Young disciples may be given a place to try out these roles of theological leadership. Space is cleared for God to be revealed through the ordinary mask of creation. Young disciples come to explore and celebrate the particularities of the historic Christian faith and the Lutheran theological tradition. The outdoor ministries we are blessed with throughout the Lutheran church play this role and more every summer (and more often than not year-round). These ministries are firmly rooted in the narrative of Scripture and the traditions that precede us in the life of faith. And the blessings don’t remain just at camp: they descend from the mountaintop and spread throughout the world.

of such beauty unintentionally slips into pantheism, confusing the boundary between creator and creation. Luther’s writings on God’s “hiddenness” illuminates the church’s practice of outdoor and camping ministry. Reflecting on Luther’s words, author Belden Lane writes that God uses the ordinariness of nature as a “mask for the holy.” Due to the brokenness of humanity’s relationship with God, these masks provide us with places and spaces to encounter the fullness of God, which naked and unmasked would be beautiful yet too terrible to endure. These encounters with God in nature, writes Lane, “are not sterile occasions for rationally inferring the existence and attributes of God, but vivid, if broken, means by which God as Mother of creation comes to meet us.” Our encounters with the triune God in nature are not merely opportunities for vague general reflections on God’s awesomeness, but reveal to us the specific and particular identity of the triune God that we confess. This “hiddenness” of God in nature guides us into a theology of the cross. As Steven Paulson writes, “God hides in order not to be found where humans want to find God. But God also hides in order to be found where God wills to be found.” Automatically assuming that any trek into creation will bring us into God’s presence implies a kind of presumption, assuming we can discern the workings of God. Still, nature does require a withdrawal from contemporary culture that allows the church better to discern those times and places that serve as guises for the presence of God. The removal of the distractions of modernity at camp or in retreat can bring to the faithful a heightened sense of awareness of the communal relations among the body of Christ. In the midst of nature, the image of Christ crucified awakens us to the fact that neither creation nor redemption is attainable, save through the work of our Lord.