Bjcorbin's Blog

There is undeniable wisdom in the concept of picking one’s battles, but I would submit that the criterion one uses to make those decisions is a critical factor.  Human nature will most often drive us to pick only the fights that we think we can win; but for the Christian, a larger perspective needs to be accounted for.  Beyond the questions of whether I want to fight this battle or am I equipped for this battle or can I win this battle, the Believer must first resolve, “Is this a battle that I’m called to fight?”

Left to our own devices, we will generally choose to do battle in the arenas where we feel the strongest.  I would suggest that this is what Peter was attempting to do when he vowed to prevent Jesus’ crucifixion (Matt. 16:22).  Despite the Lord’s stern admonishment of that plan (Matt. 16-23), Peter still gave into his compulsion to grab a sword in the garden of Gethsemane; though clearly that wasn’t a situation he’d been called to resolve.  Unfortunately, just minutes before, he’d lost what appeared to be a far more manageable battle, in which he had been called to “watch and pray” with Jesus.  Minutes later, he’d succumb in yet another seemingly innocuous confrontation, which ultimately led to him denying the Lord three times.

Like Peter, it seems that we’re often called to battles that we don’t really want to fight and get drawn into others that don’t really belong to us.  I would submit that God rarely calls us to battle in the place where we feel strong, because He’s not interested in cultivating confidence in our own strength and ability.  Most often, He calls us to battle in the place of our weakness, so that His strength can be revealed in and through us.  In fact, it is generally the recognition that we can’t do it on our own, that causes us to tap into His divine power and authority.  Ultimately, this understanding needs to be considered every time we encounter a potential battle, if we ever hope to see the Lord truly glorified in us.  

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How an adult approaches the idea of “church camp” is most likely to depend on their childhood memories of that experience.  Those with fond memories are likely to bring some measure of enthusiasm, while those without might easily come to it with a sense of trepidation or maybe even dread.  As a kid who never attended a church camp, I tend not to fit well into either of those categories.  On the one hand, I love kids and believe in the idea of teaching them about Jesus; while on the other hand, I can see the folly in gathering young children together, separating them from their parents and placing them in an unfamiliar environment.  Despite those mixed emotions, I didn’t hesitate when I was recently asked to be a counselor at our church’s camp for kids.  Even though I’d not been a counselor before, I’m certainly not a novice in dealing with kids.  Over the years I’ve worked in the nursery, taught Sunday school, coached ball teams and raised four kids of my own.  I’ve also been a part of the camp staff in previous years and had a pretty good idea of what to expect.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I felt sure it was something I was “called” to do.

Despite my love of children, I’m not necessarily a good candidate for this job, as our culture has largely departed from the values that I was raised with.  We now live in a society that holds almost nothing as truly sacred and sadly that is clearly reflected in our kids.  As a child, I would have never dreamed of back talking an adult or openly defying their direction.  Though we were certainly filled with the same sense of mischief and folly as today’s kids, there was an accompanying sense that there was a time and place where you had to put a lid on all of that.  But in a culture where even the adults have largely cast off restraint, today’s children are allowed all sorts of autonomy that we never had.  Boundaries are generally viewed with contempt and a sense of entitlement has become the pervasive theme.  As a man who holds many things (e.g. God, marriage, family, fidelity, respect for others, protection for the defenseless…) as sacred, it has become a struggle to relate to what has widely become the standard for acceptable behavior.   While we’ve tried to raise our own kids against that grain, it’s been a hard swim against the tide of popular culture.  In the days leading up to the camp, I was painfully aware that these children weren’t likely to behave in the way that I’d expect from my own children and I prayed that God would help me to respond to that in the right way.

My wife was somewhat surprised when she heard that I’d asked for the younger kids (i.e. 1^st & 2^nd graders), as she is a substitute school teacher, who absolutely prefers working with the older ones (e.g. 5^th & 6^th graders).  But I reasoned that my patience would be far more available to the little ones, who really don’t know any better, than it would be for the older kids, who are often filled with attitude and rebellion.  I know that each age group has its upside and downside, but I was pretty sure that the little ones posed less of a threat to my sanity and composure.

One of the interesting aspects of church camp is that it is rarely populated with just “church kids”.  To be sure, every church hopes that their camp will attract some kids who haven’t heard the gospel; and who might go on to be a light to their family and neighborhood.  But this creates an interesting dynamic for the camp counselor, who has to blend kids who were raised on a steady diet of “Jesus loves me, this I know”, with kids who drop the F-bomb like sneezes in allergy season.  Add to that, parents who pack their kids bags with candy, caffeinated soda and bubble gum; parents who decide not to send their kid’s Ritalin (or other behavior related medications) for the weekend and parents who don’t pack enough clothes, towels or bedding to last more than a day; and you’ve got a recipe for an incredibly spicy stew.  Of course, God is bigger than all of those things, but it can be a heck of a ride for the vessel He decides to send into this fire.

The kids I happened to draw this year ran the spectrum, including all of the aspects discussed above and then some.  Three of them had significant behavioral issues, which required some form of medication and almost constant attention on my part.  Needless to say I couldn’t divide my attention in a way that kept all of them out of trouble.  I was assigned two very sincere teenage boys to help me and to be sure, I’d have been lost without them; but their efforts had to be centered on the rest of the group, as most of my time and energy was consumed with these three young boys.  One of those three would have been fine if I could have let him go off by himself, but with everything at camp being constructed as a group activity, he was miserable for the entire weekend.  The other two boys were almost the exact opposite, as they couldn’t keep their hands off each other or from getting into other people’s stuff.  As quickly as I might get one situation resolved, a new one would quickly arise.

After awhile, I found myself carrying one of the boys, so that I could keep after the other; and it was during those times that I had my first breakthrough.  When I picked up the smaller of the two boys, I could feel the turmoil raging inside of him; but as I held him for a few minutes, I sensed that he was calming and he began to hold tight to me, just like my own kids did when they were young.  I was surprised by that and felt certain that the Holy Spirit must be at work.  This victory was short lived, as the bigger boy soon grew jealous and insisted that I hold him instead.  That battle lasted for the rest of camp, but I found that whenever I held either of them, they would react similarly (i.e. be calm and seemingly at peace).  While this made every other task almost impossible to complete, it at least gave me the sense that God was somehow having His way.  Later that night, as the smaller boy was bouncing off the walls after lights out, I made him come sit with me and he quickly calmed and leaned against me.  For almost forty minutes he laid almost perfectly still and stared at the colored Christmas lights I’d strung around the inside of the cabin, while I silently prayed that God would reach him in a way that only He could.  For that entire time this boy didn’t say a word and then he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.  I certainly couldn’t have said what (if anything) was accomplished in those moments, but it seemed profound at the time.

The next morning, we were off to the races again and any sense that I might be gaining traction in this situation was quickly lost, as chaos soon broke out.  Needless to say, our group didn’t perform well in any of the camp competitions (e.g. best cabin, best song…) and that took its toll on the other kids, who had a sincere desire to be a part of all that.  It was hard for me not to feel like I had really let them down, but honestly, I was giving it all that I had left.  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a profound sense of relief when the parents started arriving later that day; and not surprisingly, the parents of my two most troubled kids were amongst the last to arrive.  Considering how stern I’d had to get with each of them, I was surprised that neither of them wanted to leave and that each of them actually clung to me for a few minutes.  Despite the battle that we’d fought all weekend, I found my heart breaking for those kids and for the internal turmoil that they seem to be facing on an almost constant basis.  Ultimately, it felt as though I’d failed them; and all of the other kids in my cabin; and maybe even my young assistants as well.  As my best little campers watched in tears, as other groups got awards, all I could think was that this whole weekend had been an “Epic Fail!”

Of course, I knew that was the voice of the enemy and that there was no way that I could afford to throw a pity party; so I pushed all that aside and tried to press on.  I was numb and exhausted as we packed everything up to go home, but as I looked at all the decorations and the other things I’d prepared for camp, I was reminded of all the plans I had going in and of how few of them actually came to fruition.  Again, I realized that this was the enemy, making his case; but it was hard not to find his argument compelling.  By the time we got home and unpacked two cars worth of stuff, it was late and I went to bed with a raging headache and the voice of “the accuser” echoing in my ears.

It seemed like only a few minutes later when my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m.  But as I pulled myself out of bed, the Lord was there to meet me and as I prepared to go to work, He gave me a new attitude about what camp had really been all about.  He reminded me that He works all things to the good of those who love Him and who are called to His purpose; and He pointed out that, in spite of my many flaws, I absolutely do love Him and was sincerely trying to fulfill His purpose.  He also reminded me that we can only plant and water seeds; and that ultimately, only He can bring the increase.  And finally, He assured me that He’d accomplished more in the brief moments I’d shared with some of those boys than He could have by us winning one of the camp competitions.  As He spoke, He took me back to that quiet night, as the little boy seemingly stared in wonder at those colored lights and He once again allowed me to sense the profound nature of what He was doing.  Though I can’t claim to fully understand it, that picture was sufficient for me to let go of my sense of failure and to be freed from the voice of the enemy.

Despite the Lord’s reassurance, I catch myself hoping to go back to the kitchen staff at next year’s camp.  Given my rather spectacular results as a counselor, kitchen clean-up may be all that I’m offered.  Ultimately, that is something I can’t concern myself with.  I’ll write down, “where ever you need me”, like I always do and I’ll trust that God will get me where I need to be.  All I can do is to prepare myself to love, to serve, to listen and to obey.  The results will ultimately belong to Him.  Between now and then, I will remember those precious little boys in my prayers; and I will pray that God has His way in their lives and that He accomplishes the things that only He can do.

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It is recorded in the book of Genesis that immediately after God created man, He told him to be “fruitful”, to “multiply”, to “subdue” and to “take dominion” over the earth.  With this being the first command of God to mankind, it would seem obvious that the ability and desire to do these things would be an integral part of our human nature.  Indeed, they are so foundational that they often occur at an unconscious and almost instinctual level.  We do not have to teach our children to compete with their siblings or that the strong shall dominate the weak; these things seemingly come encoded within them.  The history of mankind would certainly bear witness to these tendencies, as empires have risen and fallen throughout the ages.  Though the pacifist might wish to extol the virtue of “civility” in mankind, it seems that our inherent desire to “subdue” and “take dominion” is far more prevalent.  Though we as humans have the ability to choose a different path, I would submit that these inclinations remain at the core of who we are.

At points throughout our history, men have tried to live in denial of these tendencies, but that has never turned out well.  An example of this would be communism or socialism.  Though many an idealist has envisioned a utopian society, where everyone shares equally in the fruit of a given kingdom, the temptation to seize control of the fruit distribution system has always proven to be too hard to resist.   Regimes that have risen under the pretense of “taking care of the people” have always made slaves of them in the end.  As I watch my own country flirt with a post-modern socialist agenda, I shudder at the thought of where we might find ourselves in the very near future.

In Western society, we place a tremendous value on convenience and as technology advances, we keep finding new ways to make things easier for ourselves.  Our food is microwavable, so that we don’t have to toil in a hot kitchen; our entertainment systems come with remote controls, so we don’t have to get out of our recliner; our cars start remotely, so we don’t have to walk outside on cold mornings; and now our electronic devices are being equipped with voice activation, so we don’t even have to expend the energy it takes to push a button.  At the average fast food restaurant, there is often a line of cars at the drive-thru, with little or no waiting at the counter.  The unfortunate by-product of this phenomenon is that our tolerance for anything that requires much effort has greatly diminished.  Things that used to be commonplace (e.g. warming up leftovers on the stove, hanging clothes on the clothesline, getting a roll of film developed, wringing out a mop head, pushing a mower, reading a book, waiting in line…) now seem almost oppressive to us; and for our kids, who never knew anything different, it seems unthinkable that people ever lived that way.  They are growing up in world filled with virtual realities, where there is no gravity to hold them down, no friction to slow them down and where they ultimately control the action.  Though it’s easy to understand why they might prefer that reality to the steady resistance that real life seems to bring, I can’t help but wonder how equipped they’ll be when it’s their turn to raise up and prepare the next generation. For them, the concept of “work” and more specifically “hard work” has become largely passé.

Presumably, all these conveniences should be affording us more time for the things that really matter in life, but somehow it doesn’t seem to be working out that way.  Instead, we’ve become a society that seems very distracted from the real issues of life and prone to spending our time staring at digital screens, both large and small.  Whether it is Facebook, Farmville (i.e. internet games) or Fantasy Football, on our iPads, iPods or iPhones, we spend a huge amount of time in cyberspace, with very little real fruit to show for it.  Technology is largely transforming us into a society of spectators, who keep trying to find ways to make our screens seem more lifelike (e.g. 60”, High Definition, 3D…).  We try to console ourselves with the idea that these activities are interactive, but the fact remains, we’re not really in the game.  Many of the applications available today are little more than silly time wasters (e.g. Angry Birds), meant to help us escape from the stress of everyday life.  While there may be some value in a small amount of that, it quickly becomes a problem when we spend more time and energy in the virtual world than we do in the real one; and as we develop our tendency to retreat from issues that we ought to be confronting.  Two hundred friends on Facebook doesn’t translate into real friendship until someone is willing come and invest something in the person that you really are; followers on Twitter are no consolation for someone who is lonely and battling depression.  We have more “real time” communication than ever before, but somehow we’re becoming even more disconnected from each other.  We’re now a society where even the once sacred institution of marriage is largely viewed as either disposable or non-essential; and where the blueprint for the “nuclear family” has been run through the shredder.

Sadly, the church is no exception to these trends, as our cathedrals have largely given way to arenas, where the preacher stars as the main attraction and the congregation plays the part of the live studio audience.  They come to see multi-media presentations, with singing, dancing and hopefully an inspiring message.  Often times it is little more than compelling musical theatre; because, to be quite honest, that’s what keeps the audience coming back.  And if they don’t really feel like fighting the crowds, they can always watch on their TV or their computers or on their smart phones…  Meanwhile the “Body of Christ” continues to be fractured and disconnected; both from one another and from the fallen world around it.

Ultimately, God did not design man to be sedentary, solitary or a spectator.  We were created to be fruitful and to multiply; neither of which can happen without genuine and personal interaction (both with each other and with God Himself).  Such interactions are often complicated and challenging, but they are absolutely essential for the development of our whole being.  He also put it within us to subdue and to take dominion over the realms within which He’s called us; but it’s up to us to engage in that process.  When we fail to engage, whether consciously or simply through distraction, we begin to lose our sense of purpose and identity.  In such times, we are easily led astray and often wind up damaging ourselves and others.  I believe that this is at the root of so much of the dysfunction that we see in our families, in our churches, in our communities and in our government.  We’ve largely lost track of who we were created to be and of why we were sent here in the first place.  Our love of comfort and leisure keep us looking for a cozy oasis instead finding the role that we are meant to fulfill; and it causes us to follow after men who will tell us that our self-centered extravagance is somehow justified and maybe even God ordained.  But even if we manage to score ourselves a cushy seat in a luxury box, we are still only spectators, while God ultimately created us to be in the game.  The Bible tells us that a faith that does not act is worthless and that the “only thing that counts” is when that faith expresses itself as love.  Based on those truths, it would seem foolish to hope to participate in the glory of heaven, if we have chosen to play the role of spectator, while here on the earth.

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