He rolled out of bed after a long night the day before. It was the dead week of school and his finals were not very stressful, so he had gone out partying and drinking the night before. However, now it was a bit past noon and he had a massive headache.

“What a waste of time to wake up now.” he muttered loudly to no one.

His roommates had already left and were busy with their day. He started to become frustrated. What was he doing with his life? Soon, the school year would be over and all the friends he made would leave and go out into the world doing a wide variety of things, from internships, to jobs and more. He sighed at the thought. He had some jobs offers back home in the back country of Nebraska, but he will still be without his college social life. He got ready for the day and he later sat down at his desk and he saw a pamphlet he got a while back after attending a Christian organization meeting on campus. The pamphlet was advocating for summer internships with Methodist organizations across Nebraska. For some reason, he actually read the pamphlet and to this day he wasn’t sure why he even read it. He was raised in a Catholic and Lutheran tradition as a child, however as time marched on he drifted away and wasn’t part of any church. Yet, he decided to work for a summer camp, a resident camp where he would be almost completely isolated from family and friends. He would only have the people he would be working with and the campers. It would be a tremendous sacrifice to ask of anyone and yet he went, not with gladness in his heart but fear and trepidation.

The story I told was my own. This extended story gives a bit of a backdrop, a setting of the scene perhaps, of my journey of accepting being a Christian. Look, I will never to claim to be the model Christian, I lack both the grace and faith to be so. This account of my experience with Christianity will be truthful and it will be raw in tone. I wanted to write this piece to give out lessons I have learned on my path of being Christian. It wasn’t easy, but I am be proud to say that last summer was spent in the service of others. At the time I was fearful and a bit angry at myself for doing something as reckless as committing myself to a summer camp when I could have spent the summer relaxing away with an easier and higher paying job. However, the time spent as a counselor at Christian summer camp was one of the defining moments on my journey of being a Christian. Camp taught me as a lot, more than I could ever imagine. A lot of practical things for starters.

After 21 years, I rather pathetically finally learned how to swim, properly coached and encouraged by fellow counselors. I got better with heights, I was always a bit nervous about potentially falling and hanging around the edges of high places. I spent dozens upon dozens of hours manning a zip line and becoming an expert with zip line use. I learned a bit more about practical repairs and quick fixes. I became an expert in wasp control as I patrolled around at the beginning of every week of camp taking out wasp nests. I have now hundreds of hours of practical and useful hands-on experience and interaction with children of various ages, which is useful for my education major.

What was perhaps the most defining and powerful part of my experience at summer camp was my growth in spirituality. I never really committed to any church I was raised with both Catholic and Lutheran traditions but never confirmed in either. I attended a Catholic private school. From school I learned a lot. I was lucky to have an incredible role model at that school, Father Grant. He taught me a lot outside of the classroom like self-control. When I was a kid, my self-control was very bad. When I got angry I would lash out in anger. He taught me peace from Peter 5:14, “Greet one another with the kiss of love. Peace to all of you who are in Christ.” I carry that lesson every day I’m tempted to lash out I try to remember to be more peaceful. Do I always do so? Perhaps not as much as I should. Still Father Grant is one of the greatest inspiration in my life to be a Christian.

Despite his influence and the influence of others with college I found myself wandering in my faith. I was a free-thinker and non-conformist in the matters of religion, and I found myself challenging the church and its principles. Surely, God wants to find him in our own way? What was the point of a church, a community? We should search for God in a personal journey. I still hold the belief that Christianity is a personal experience, what it means to be Christian will be different from what you believe or maybe you don’t believe at all in which case, you are entitled to not believe. I would say I was spiritual but not really religious. I studied the Bible extensively as a child and continued my studies in college and would be one of the most well-versed of the counselors.

However, I was not committed to my faith and serving others. My faith was never as strong as others would be, shaken when I saw people in everyday life doing morally objectionable things. I’m not here to write up a theodicy, however there is that simple doubt in a higher power that is both all-powerful and all-loving and yet allows evil both great and small to exist? That question would plague my thoughts many times in my theology studies. I think I’ll always be searching for an answer. What I found at camp was I didn’t have to search for answers on my own. I found a community to search for answers with. To be able to ask questions to and to learn from. To learn that to be a Christian doesn’t mean I have to struggle on my own that I have a community, a foundation to rest upon.

While I worked at camp I witnessed some of the most powerful moments of my life and changed my journey in Christianity. I saw campers, kids some more than a decade younger than me, others only a couple years my junior doing something I found incomprehensible. True, genuine faith. They would cry out in fear of being in the dark in a cabin far away from home. They prayed to a God that may or may not exist. To those kids, God did exist. He gave them courage and comfort to confront their fears. I saw kids claim without shame or irony of faith in a God they could not prove. They would do little things like try to help out the counselors each day or comforting a friend. In the beginning I brushed it off. No one could be that genuine. I literally could not belief that others would have that much faith? Wasn’t the point that Christians were all Peter, to walk on the water and cry out in fear?

Yet after weeks of camp I couldn’t dismiss it anymore. I witnessed acts of faith which I would consider fairly insane. I saw a bunch of kids banding together in prayer circles hand in hand without shame or regret. They were not told to. They were not commanded by counselors to go out and pray together yet they did it anyways. I joked about having a campfire and talk late night on the final day of a week of camp with a bunch of high school campers. I thought nothing of it at the time however, they took it very seriously and they did an impromptu get together with a few of the counselors. It started cheerful and more fun than anything else, but as the night kept on they shared their secrets, fears and doubts. They broke down into tears and would comfort each other while looking to their faith for support. What was crazy was that I didn’t just see this happen once during the summer, it happened multiple times with different times and different campers. Was it the isolated nature which gave them the courage without the pressure of other social peers? Was it the campfires and the glow of the fire in the pitch black dark of nature? When one shared and opened his or her heart, did it lead to others doing the same? I don’t know.

I could see this great faith in God in the campers and I could also see it in my fellow counselors. While they found strength in their faith and grew more spiritually, internally I would be drowning. Drowning in my own hardships and doubts. My reaction to such powerful faith did not turn into gladness. No, I was afraid. I was envious. Spiteful toward others knowing the presence of God I had never experienced and perhaps would never experience. How cruel. How unfair it was to have sacrificed so much in the service of God. To be a dutiful student of God. To have done good in the sight of God. Yet, I never had powerful faith. Not even when going through a near-death experience did I feel like God saved me. I did not feel the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God. It felt more like the random numbers of the universe giving me borrowed time.

Will most of those kids ever know that the counselor who preached so passionately had never felt the presence of God? Will the kids learn that the counselor who quoted so freely from the Bible was on his own turbulent journey in his faith? Probably not and perhaps it’s better that way as well. It wasn’t until the last days of camp did I visibly and vocally broke down. It was after a session where us counselors would experience the le grand silence, sitting in the darkness and just listening to the presence of God. I would listen as my friends described their belief in God after the experience but, when it came time for me to speak, I could only give the truth. “I felt nothing. I felt nothing, but the emptiness and uncaringness of a cool summer night.” I knew I shocked some of my friends when I vocalized that revelation. Out of the group I was perhaps the most dedicated, working longer and harder, helping out whenever I could, and doing so without complaint for almost the entire summer. Yet, here I was breaking down at the very end, showing how weak I actually was. It was one of the most important lessons I learned on how to be a Christian. Being a Christian is realizing on a daily basis how weak I truly am.

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is Mark 16:5-8. It’s a moving and haunting passage I feel. As Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James were the first to encounter the risen Lord, “As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him.” But go, tell his disciples and Peter, “He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.”

It’s one of my favorites because of how human it is. Mark wrote in a factual and direct style of writing and it shows that the women did not react with happiness or being overjoyed to see Jesus alive as he promised. No, they were afraid. They saw a dead man speak again and they ran in fear.

I find myself relating to Mary Magdalene, to see such glory and be afraid. Yes, I was afraid of when I saw those great acts of faith. Now such faith has inspired me to stay on my journey of being a Christian. Despite the hardships I have endured, I’m reminded of Job when he suffered for God, Job 1:20-21, “At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”

What I’m trying to say is what I learned in being a Christian means enduring. To keep on the journey of faith. Maybe one day I will have that moment when I can truly feel the presence of God. I will never know if I will. However, I must keep on the journey. If I keep doing good in the sight of the Lord, sacrifice in the service of others, be humbled and not exalt myself, then perhaps one day I will know. Still I know I don’t have to journey alone, I still have my friends from working at camp I can always talk to. I converted to Methodism and have people in church I can ask to be my foundation. In conclusion, here is my final lesson. To be a Christian means to serve others and have belief in the unknown. Sometimes the opportunity to serve will surprise you, but there are always chances to serve others in both big and small ways. To believe in the unknown doesn’t mean you will never ever doubt. It means when the hardships come and the rain pours down, you grow stronger in faith not weaker.

Deo Gratias.