ten thousand reasons.

We have a very strategic plan; it’s called doing something.

This time last year, I wrote this. It’s my camp process post, and in 2012 I came home inspired and challenged; having learnt a tonne and cried a tonne. 

This year was different.

As usual, I’ve spent the last week at Camp Kedron, in the valley of a stunning national park; surrounded by 140 teenagers, and 20 something other leaders. We took a week out to ban phones, eat good food, swim, climb, do team building exercises and most centrally; talk, learn and practice Jesus.

This year was different though.

For one, I’m haven’t come home on a camp high. I’m not pining for it. There’s a not a tantrum in sight.

And don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with my cabin. In fact, the 9 fifteen and sixteen year olds I was responsible for were all wonderful; kind, sweet, loving and genuine girls. There was no need to rouse on late night talking, nurse hypochondriacs as they wagged activities, or deal with female tears and tantrums. Instead we made hair wraps and even went to bed without question. There was no complaining, not even when I got us lost, or used them as guinea pigs for my experimental techniques {which involved spontaneous prayer triplets,  and throwing sticks off of cliffs to symbolically represent the prayerful move away from life’s hindering obstacles}.

So it wasn’t my cabin.

It wasn’t the camp, either. Our theme this year was “God of Wonders” and each day we went through the song.

For “early in the morning we will celebrate the light”; this meant getting 140 teenagers up at 4:45am, to take a bus to the beach and the sunrise.

 For “as we stumble in the darkness we will call your name by night,” this meant hiking up the mountain, in the dark, on their first night. “Of water, earth and sky” meant that we went swimming, fort digging, bird watching, high ropes coursing and aquatic centering.

 “The universe declares your majesty” meant sitting out under the stars, blankets and pillows a plenty, watching Louie Giglio’s “Indescribable”, as we prayed away the rain.

So it wasn’t the program.

I didn’t sleep, but as per usual I pushed through with a whole lot of sugar, many cups of coffee, love letters, prayer times, some spiritual encouragement; and several late night cathartic moments in the arms of other leaders.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion.

God moved in the camp, and He moved in the campers. He moved in the worship, and He changed hearts. There were tears, heart breaking stories, first time commitments, re-commitments, powerful testimonies and one of the most transforming life changes I have ever had the privilege to witness.

So it wasn’t that.

I decided once again this camp that I am so very, very glad I’m no longer in High School. With the hormones, and the awkward growth stages, the constant judgement, competitions, rumours and pressures.

For one, I found myself very frustrated by teenagers this week. On the bus, the camp switched between singing “how great is our God” and “ she’s so fine, and she’s got legs like mine, and when she cross the street, the cars go beep.. beep .. beep..”…

I got frustrated with conversations, about why we should care about our meat consumption; "who cares about the environment and global equality when it’s so much easier to sit in our beds and be comfortable". I tell you, it took all my patience to not stand up, turn over a few chairs and rampage around with a pointed finger yelling “YOU ARE WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE WORLD!”

I got frustrated with the amount of butts, boobs, bra’s and bare legs I saw on a day to day basis.

And I got frustrated by my attitude towards this all, my judgmentalism. I was frustrated about how I was picking splinters everywhere; whilst sulking around with a log in my eye. Seeing behaviour, and missing hearts.

I got frustrated by my selfishness, my desire to sleep over almost anything else. My lack of courage to seize opportunities.

When you stand in a team of the most incredible leaders, the most humble and wonderful examples of Christ like character, then yeah, you get frustrated over your inadequacies, your lack of faith, your hard heart. When they’re busy dancing down the isles in worship, and you’re glued to your seat. When they’re fearlessly proclaiming scriptures over campers, and your making yourself coffee.  When they’re initiating Gospel conversations on the bus, and you’re actually asleep by this point, well yeah – you feel pretty sub-par. At least I did.

So maybe it was a little bit of that.

But what I think it comes down to is feeling.

I’m an emotional nightmare, really. I do feel sorry for my (truly wonderful) boyfriend who deals with a lot of it. I feel everything quite strongly, happiness, closeness, love, despair, fear and sadness. When I’m happy I’m real happy, when I’m excited I’m really excited, but when I’m sad, I’m really sad.

IM EMOTIONAL.

I base my decisions on my emotions, most if not all of the time. And recently, for a while now really, I haven’t been about to feel God. And if I can’t feel Him, He’s clearly not there, and hence the core of who I am and what I stand for crumbles down around me. As does my emotional state, and  my functioning-as-a-normal-person skills.

And this week, I couldn’t feel Him. There were moments, yes. But it wasn’t constant, and for every high there was a low, tears – even.

So camp. I think my greatest lesson was simply that it’s not about a feeling. Feelings change, but God doesn't. Whether or not I feel it in the moment, God is still good. He is still faithful. He is still present. He is still with me. He is still working within, with and in spite of me. Loving Him is not about a feeling, and if I pin "love" down to that, then I’m misunderstanding the concept itself. If the only proof that Jesus loved me was a mushy  feeling, well, then, I’d be in great trouble. Jesus’ died as a sacrifice for me. Love is sacrificial action, and I learnt that all over again.

Whether I feel it or not, love is sacrificial action. Whether I feel Him or not, our trial is perseverance.

Whether I feel Him or not, is not the point. He calls us to holiness, not happiness and there’s a difference.

Whether I feel it or not, God worked through camp. 

And whether I feel it or not, I am thankful.