There’s a Young Life camp in central Oregon called Washington Family Ranch. Last weekend, I went there for a leader retreat.

I sat criss-cross applesauce in the clubroom among hundreds of other leaders. We sang worship songs together, watched the program team put on ridiculous sketches that had us rolling on the floor, and listened to speakers. We were all gathered for one purpose.

The speakers talked a lot about the role of a leader. Not everyone is necessarily called to youth outreach; not everyone is necessarily called to “step out of the boat.” But no matter our calling, as the body of Christ, we can all help and love each other.

One of the speakers was an older leader from the region. He spoke on maintaining intimacy with Christ, and he was armed with a PowerPoint clicker and clothed in neon Nike sweatshirt and shoes.

He heavily referenced John 15. He said that if we’re living the Christian life right, it should hurt. If we refrain from compartmentalizing God and communicate with Him constantly – if we are connected to the vine, we should be continually pruned. Everything that we are should be continually refined. Abidance in God should be constantly sought, and it is the ultimate result of the pruning. We are to seek God first and abide in Him; that is the calling of the Christian life.

At this camp, we ate meals together, laughing and getting to know each other. We listened to speakers with joyful hearts. We played games, we admired the beauty of the place, and we basked in the simple wholeness of God.

There’s a monastic abbey in Western Oregon called Mount Angel Abbey. Two days after the Young Life retreat, I went there on a field trip for the great books program at my college.

I sat in the library at the abbey among my thirty-some peers and a handful of professors. We put on delicate white gloves and handled the centuries-old, unbelievably valuable manuscripts filled with intricate illuminated lettering, gold leaf and teeny-tiny Latin script. We walked as silent as a mass of college students can possibly be to the church for noonday prayer, and we listened to the monks chant Psalms as they gathered together for one purpose.

We got to hear from the abbot. He entered the library, wearing the same outfit as the other monks: a simple black robe, black belt and black sandals, with the only difference being the ornate silver cross around his neck. He walked up in front of our group. He held a little red copy of The Rule of Saint Benedict, and (to my surprise, for some reason) he exuded sincere humility.

He said that a monastic community is like the main ingredients that every Christian strives for, just set aside in a unique way. In that way, the rest of the church can look to monks as an example. And in other ways, monks can look outside to other parts of the body of Christ as well.

The abbot let us ask questions about the monastic life. His answers revolved around the monks’ desire to devote their lives to God alone. Their entire structured schedule, day in and day out, revolves around God alone. They serve God, provide a peaceful haven for anyone who needs it and gladly live their difficult, secluded life. They constantly pray or meet or practice silence in order to turn their focus to God and be rid of everything in them that is not of Him. They are to seek God alone and abide in Him; that is the calling of the monastic life.

On the abbey’s hilltop, I spent time with peers, caught a glimpse of the monastic life, admired the beauty of the place and gained a small understanding of the complexity of God.

These two places and experiences were so different. My mental vision of two Young Life leaders performing a skit about horseshoe tossing in afro wigs and red singlets contrasts so sharply with the memory of the pensive, robed monks chanting along to the grand organ in the adorned church. Besides the physical differences, the core beliefs of volunteer evangelists and the doctrines of Catholic monks are likely to clash.

Yet, the similarities struck me deeply.

These two seemingly opposing groups of believers are still ultimately seeking the same Truth. They both respect the different parts of the body of Christ. They both believe in the goodness of suffering for the sake of Christ. They both seek, serve, love and worship the same living God.

I think the laughing skit-performers and the solemn manuscript-stewards do what they do, believe it or not, for the same purpose. And that is beautiful.