Camp meeting = crazy, fun, CRAZY

Camp meeting means different things to different generations. Little kids love singing at the top of their lungs in their tents, listening to the stories, and gorging themselves at the snackbar. The teenagers are entirely too awesome to be here but have no choice since they're not quite awesome enough to have their own cars. They stand around looking annoyed, but at the same time it's the Adventist social event of the summer, so they can't hide in their parents RV. They're here to see and be seen. People my age have full-time jobs and can barely make it to the evening meetings. And by the time they do, they see someone they know and end up spending the whole time catching up on life since college. Then there is the older generation. Those sweet little older people who show up in their walkers and wheelchairs, fighting for the best seat in the main tent, attempting to get the same spot that they've sat in for the past 50 years. Dwight Nelson is speaking this year and he is an Adventist celebrity. They stand in line to get a picture with him.


I see children running around, laughing and screaming. I see teenagers flirting and sipping on slushies. I see older people wandering around, commenting on all the changes. I see pastors, exhausted, putting their energy into their assignments. I see people sitting on benches praying.


For the past two camp meetings, I've been working for the Oregon Conference. Before that I avoided camp meeting, mostly because camp meeting =  people, and I'm not entirely comfortable with large groups. But the past week has been nothing but people, people, people and it's been CRAZY!! There's no way you can have an event with approximately 15,000 people and not deal with a little crazy. But it's also Adventist crazy, which I have a love/hate relationship with. I love my church, but it's hard to love absolutely everyone in my church, especially during camp meeting. The saints complain, whine, ask crazy questions, and pester the life out of the staff here (remind anyone of the children of Israel?), but we are here to serve them, because we want them to see Christ. And if I have an angry reaction when someone comes in to complain about the unfairness of their life, they're not going to see Christ. So surprisingly for me this year, camp meeting is turning into a religious experience. It's teaching me how to be a servant.


I try to remind myself that the pushy lady who keeps coming in, determined to hand out literature, is incredibly loved by the same God who cherishes me. I remind myself that the obnoxious kids who run around screaming throughout the day are beautiful in the sight of God. I remember that each kind, wonderful, frustrating, mean, rude, sweet, friendly, stubborn, joyful person I meet is especially important to God . . . just as I am.