God Works Through Us, Even When We Don't Know It
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God Works Through Us, Even When We Aren't As Invested As We Could Be

A story of how God reminded me of the power of His own story.

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Avery Owens

A week ago I returned from working six weeks at camp, and I can honestly say I returned a different person. I have countless memories and stories to share, but out of them all, one stands out as my favorite.

It was the first full day of camp during my fifth week there, and it was our first Bible study as a cabin. I gathered my eight girls around, we sat in a circle, and we opened up our Bibles. For the first Bible study, I usually liked to open with my testimony, as I believe if I get vulnerable with the girls first, they will soon feel comfortable to open up with me. So I went through the motions and shared my testimony, as usual. At this point in the summer, it was becoming repetitive and my flesh was bored. Still, I tried to make it exciting and heartfelt for these girls who were hearing it for the first time.

After I shared my testimony, I told the story of the gospel and, yet again, I was bored. It was my 100th time to tell the story that summer, and the words just flowed from me out of routine. Two girls shared after that they did not have Christ living inside of them. They were regular churchgoers, but they did not have a personal relationship with Christ. I thanked them for sharing where they were in their walk with Christ and realized I had some seeds to plant that week.

The day continued as normal after Bible study, and we went to lunch before heading to a time of rest. This was my cherished one hour to lay on my bed and take a power nap, as I gained energy for the remainder of the day. My campers usually liked to take a nap during this time as well. So I laid in my bed and fell asleep. When my alarm woke me, I awoke to one of my unsaved campers staring at me. She said, "Triplap" (my camp name), I put a note on your bed." I rolled around and looked for it, but couldn't find it, and assumed it was a joke.

Later that day, I met with that camper for a hangtime, which is just a time we get to talk about life and Christ together. We sat on two rocking chairs, ate some Chex Mix, and just hung out. In the middle of one of our conversations, she asked me if I had read her letter. I told her I couldn't find it and asked her what it said. She told me it said she needed to talk to me about something important she had done during our nap. Then, she told me the best news ever — while I was sleeping, she asked Jesus to come into her life. She accepted Him as her Lord and Savior. I jumped higher than I ever had before and we rejoiced and celebrated. I had gained a new sister in Christ.

Why this stands out as one of my favorite memories from camp, is because of the lesson I learned from it. So often I underestimate the power of the gospel and someone's testimony. The stories of the cross and how Christ saved someone from sin are powerful stuff. While I was sleeping, Christ was moving. He didn't even need me. He moved in my camper's heart all on His own. She heard the good news and she wanted her life to be changed as well. I was so encouraged by this, as I had let myself forget how transformative the love of Christ is. It can change the hardest of hearts and flip our lives upside down for the better. I pray that I never forget the great power of both His story and mine. His love is great and it changes lives.

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