When the van is hot and crammed full of people, songs of boredom, and noxious smells, there can be no other destination than youth camp. I had the privilege and opportunity to go twice as a teen, and it changed my life. On those hot summer days, all the teens would gather in the fan cooled all-purpose meeting room for Chapel. And though I was there trying to find “the one,” something extraordinary would happen, I would hear God speak. Maybe not out loud, but as the Pastor sermonized, his words would begin to penetrate my heart.
The first year I became convicted that maybe I shouldn’t draw pictures of “Hunks” for all the girls in my cabin to lust after for some extra cash. Instead, I could take that time to read the bible. I wasn’t sure if I could get past Genesis, the Lord knew how many times I had tried in the past and failed.
After a year of school and trying to read my bible, I returned for another year of youth camp. This time the camp theme was "being filled with the Holy Spirit." It felt eerie just to say it. How could one be filled with the Holy Spirit? At camp that year there were prayer times when students started praying loudly with strange sounds I didn’t understand.
As an explanation, the Pastor said they were speaking in tongues, but to me, it sounded weird. I wouldn’t have been curious if I didn’t notice the look on their faces. It was a serene peaceful look as if they were experiencing God in a deep way. Many of the students were on their knees. Others had their hands lifted in the air. As they prayed, they seemed to be talking to an unseen person. Some had tears rolling down their cheeks, while others danced or clapped. As unusual as the whole spectacle was I felt drawn in. I guess I wanted to feel close to something bigger than me.
On the second to the last night, I joined the prayer circle as the assistant Pastor went around the circle praying for each person. One by one they began to pray in a new tongue but when they got to me nothing happened. I felt embarrassed as he began to ask if I had ever played with an Ouija board or played "Light as a Feather stiff as a board?" My face turned red as I confessed I had. He said that was the reason I wasn’t filled.
Dejected I went back to the cabin that night without stopping at the snack shack for a Mr. Freeze Pop. I didn’t stop to say good night to the new guy I met on Tuesday. Instead, I just walked back by myself to the cabin. I climbed up on the top bunk and laid down. Staring up at the wooden beams above I wondered if I could ever reach God at all. It seemed my relationship with him had been one of trying to clean up, and act right long enough to get in good graces with Him. Sadly, it turned out that I was just too bad.
I had felt like this before. In fact, it was like a broken record playing in my head most of the time.
"I know," I thought, "I will ask the pretty worship leader. She seems so spiritual, she will know what to do."
Feeling a little better, I kicked off my sandals and opened my bible. Through the past year I had managed to read all of Genesis and on through Exodus, but Leviticus stopped me in my tracks. In the New Testament, I had made it through all four gospels. I decided to turn to John 15:5 “I am the Vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”
Suddenly a rush of girls came flooding into the cabin. Laughter, silly songs, and screaming broke the silence with boisterous cheer. Camp was fun and I couldn’t wait to hear about the boy drama and adventure they just had during the 25 minute late night time. We giggled and joked as we took turns rubbing each other’s shoulders and doing each other’s hair. Soon there was a knock at the door, and a muffled voice saying “Lights Out!”
As I laid back down on my bed, my thoughts drifted back to the Holy Spirit, whispering beyond the wooden rafters I said, ”Dear God, I am sorry I tried those games, I knew they were wrong, but if you will fill me with your Spirit I promise I won’t ever do that kind of thing again, Good Night.”
The next morning the blow horn went off at 7:00AM for Breakfast. Rolling over in bed I realized I wasn’t going to get a shower. Looking around, some of the girls were already dressed and putting the final touches on their hair, while others were planning their morning cheer routine.
Scrambling out of bed, I put on my bib overalls and stuffed my hair under a baseball cap. Soon we joined the other tired campers for the morning cheer and morning devotions. From across the crowd of students, I saw her, the young worship leader. She smiled kindly at the students in her group. I began to feel nervous about asking her about “The Holy Spirit.” What if she laughed at me or told me I was too bad?
Soon the whistle blew for Breakfast so we all made a mad dash to the Dining Commons. After a bowl of Cream of Wheat and a hand full of grapes, I gained the courage to approach her. She was sitting by a group of counselors when she noticed me standing next to her.
“Hello,” she said politely.
“Um hello,” I returned.
Awkward Pause…
“I was wondering if I could um talk to you about something?” I asked shyly.
“Sure,” she said.
Looking at the other counselors I added,“But not here, um could we go outside?”
“Okay,”she said helpfully.
I waited as she dumped her tray into the slop bucket, and poured her milk into the liquid bucket. Finally, she was able to meet with me, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to meet with her. Taking a seat on the front steps I asked her, “So what is this Holy Spirit thing?”
She looked at me curiously as I continued to spill my story and questions finally ending with, “and because I did all that I don’t think I can ever be good enough for God’s Holy Spirit.”
She sat quietly for a moment, then proceeded slowly and gently. “Dianne, we all have made mistakes, but when we become aware of them we just have to lay those mistakes before God and ask for Him to forgive us, and cleanse us from anything that is still keeping us from Him. Dianne, you are not too bad for God to fill you with his Holy Spirit, but it does sound like you would like to pray about those things you mentioned.”
Sitting quietly I whispered to try to keep composure, “Yes, I feel guilty.”
So we bowed our heads right there on the steps. She prayed for me, and then she asked me to pray. As I began to open my mouth to lay down my guilt and confess I began to feel a power come over me. It was like heaven opening up and the sweet sunshine pouring into my soul to drive away all my fears and doubts. It was the presence of the Lord. All of a sudden something like an urgency to speak started rising from my chest. In the midst of all the peace, I felt nervous about this new sensation growing inside to speak, but not with my mind directing the words. As I opened my mouth little syllables began to form on my lips. Feeling foolishly free I continued to make the strange sounds with my mouth. In the midst of this unusual moment, I began to cry realizing I was experiencing this “Holy Spirit” thing.
That night at camp I felt a freedom to sing in worship, and my heart felt more in tuned to the message. I couldn’t believe that God would answer my prayer. How could I deserve to experience his presence like this?
I left youth camp determined to take that presence of the Holy Spirit home with me, though I still didn’t know what the praying in tongues was all about. The following Sunday I sat in my own church as the Pastor spoke specifically about holy rollers that run on the back of church pews and tongue talkers that cluck like chickens. Terrified I sat frozen in my chair. What did I learn at that church camp? After the service, I went home and straight to my room. Behind my locked door, I sat on my floor in front of the mirrored closet doors.
“God, if this “Holy Spirit” talk is bad I pray that you will stop me, Ok I am going to pray right now, Ready? so if this is bad stop me, Amen!”
So I prayed in the broken syllables for one minute, then two, then three looking up at heaven waiting for some kind of sign that this was wrong. Nothing happened in that moment, except the feeling of peace that flooded my heart.
For the next few months, I repeated this prayer and this exercise every day after school, but I only experienced peace and release. Soon I was finding the unusual courage to share my story of God’s help with others. I discovered I even had compassion for complete strangers. All the while I kept praying, and forgiving, and asking for direction.
It is the memory of these youth camp experiences that makes me brave enough to commit a week of my life counseling a cabin full of girls. With each new year, I hope for a girl like me to arrive unsuspecting God to move in her life. I hope to be like that pretty little worship leader that took the time to hear my questions and fears and reassure me that I wasn’t crazy and I wasn’t too bad. Through sleepless nights and foolish pranks, I press on in hope that I too could help a girl find the Holy Spirit.
"Holy Spirit you are welcome here
Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere
Your glory God is what our hearts long for
To be overcome by your presence Lord"
(Holy Spirit, by Bryan and Katie Torwalt)
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