2021 Summer Reflections

The summer of 2021. 

Possibly the fastest paced summer I’ve ever experienced but the longest summer in length (if you can decipher what I mean ha-ha). Both of my older brothers married off this summer. I’ve been knee deep in getting the pre-college work done for the entirety of the season. And in the midst of these major changes, I spent thirteen weeks working at a camp in the mountains of my childhood, Snowbird Wilderness Outfitters. Two weeks of training and eleven weeks of full-blown, record-breaking, physically-spiritually-mentally draining, Spirit-filled summer camp. 

Upon reflection, I have decided to share two stories with you. I have been blessed enough to have these difficult lessons taught to me and, if you pay attention, the Lord may teach you the same over the next five minutes or so. 

Bear with me.

This summer, I was asked to participate in the “Window Skit.” One of the camp directors approached me during the first week of staff training and said, “Hey Garrett, how would you feel about acting in the widow skit?” At this point, I knew just as much as you do now. Thinking it would be a goofy little production, as is the renowned skit, “The Boy Who Cried Gorilla,” I said enthusiastically, “Absolutely!” 

“Good!” he replied, “Are you able to be emotional on stage?”

I didn’t expect this question, but I told him I could. 

Later that same day, I learned just what kind of skit it actually is. It’s not a goofy skit at all; on the contrary, it is a heavy and powerful portrayal of the gospel of grace. 

Early in the summer, I was able to identify an area of my spiritual life that I was finding my identity in. I struggled/struggle greatly with my pride in my knowledge of the scriptures and theology. Sometimes I can even catch myself worshiping the theology of the Creator rather than the Creator. This is dangerous ground. 

I had a camper (let’s call him Dave) who found himself questioning his salvation. Tuesday night, the night I did the window skit every week, he said in the small group, “Guys, I think God is ready to save me.” That week, I was working with a bunch of middle schoolers so this comment was immediately lost in the tumult of off-topic comments and side conversations. I planned to take him aside after the small group and talk to him about it. It wasn’t until Thursday that I got a hold of him. 

I took him through Romans 10 and explained the simplicity of salvation in Christ to him. “So if you believe in your heart that God raised Jesus from the dead and confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, you are saved,” I told him. 

His eyes lit up and he looked me in the face and said, “Oh! I already did that! I did that Tuesday night!” 

I learned later that he was a little confused with the concept of baptism and how it relates to salvation and, as he wasn’t baptized, he figured he wasn’t yet saved by grace. Anyway. Dave told me that Jesus washed his sins away Tuesday night during my skit.

This blew me away. It wasn’t my words of memorized scripture and surface-level theology that God used to soften Dave’s heart to repentance, it was a simple skit that someone simply asked me to act in. It had nothing to do with me. 

This realization moved me. 

Every Tuesday night before the skit, I would go out back and gawk at the majesty of God revealed in his creation of the Appalachian mountains and I would pray. Lord, multiply the efforts I poor into this simple performance. Dave’s salvation story was such a clear and tangible answer to this prayer and I worshipped the Lord for this. 

That’s the first story.

Second story.

Fast forward four or five weeks. This was the last week of camp. I was leading ten high schoolers. So often this summer, I came up against anxiety and depression and learning how to battle this, trying to balance being a soundboard and being a source of truth for these students. This last week, I had two guys who struggled with these things. One of them (let us call him Zach), however, told me he was having trouble believing God exists, “Because,” he said, “If God does exist, why would he allow this to happen to me?”

There wasn’t an answer I could give and I told him so. 

“And I don’t blame you for not having answers,” he told me, “No one ever does and it’s okay.”

I may have told him I didn’t have the answer to his questions, but I wasn’t about to let the enemy play the offence on this one. “I don’t have the answers, man,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But I know deep down in my bones that God is real and he will never leave you if you are in Christ. Never. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I know your pain and know what you are going through, because I don’t. But I do know pain. My mom is sick with an incurable illness and I don’t know why, if God is good, he doesn’t simply heal her. These doubts are never far from me. But I stand on what I know is truth. I have assurance in Christ; I have peace and rest. I have faith in his promises. Faith isn’t just believing that if I jump off a cliff God is going to catch me. It is not just believing in God; it is believing God. But if you don’t believe that God exists, his promises are meaningless. And so I challenge you. Jesus tells us that he who seeks, finds. Seek him. Challenge that promise. Read his Word. If you don’t find him, then you have your answers.”

It was a rather long conversation, but this is virtually all I said, besides asking a few questions. I wanted to be a place of confidence for him. Every night in small group, I make a point to share the gospel. He heard the gospel every morning and night that week. He knows it front and back. He grew up in the church. And yet, some how, he is having trouble believing that God exists. 

So much of what I learned this summer revolved around the concept of strength. First, we have the strength of God, King of the Universe. It’s infinite, yet totally complete in its perfection. Too often, we box God in without even realizing it. To say that God is all powerful is true. However, I tend to think that the term “All Powerful,” is, in a way, an attempt to contain the infinite capabilities of God into a term that we can grasp. Let us pause together and think about these implications for a moment. Matt Chandler points out that when we build something or create something, we are using the materials that God gave us; wood, clay, sand, etc. He goes on to explain that when God created the universe, he didn’t build it from a specific set of materials; God created the materials. His strength is so far above my ability to think. These are surface-level thoughts on the infinite measure of the power and strength of the Lord. 

And then you have my strength. 

Jesus implies that my strength is non-existent. He tells us that without him, we are capable of nothing. He alone is the sustainer of life. He alone commands creation. For in him, all things hold together. Christ alone was sustaining the life of the one who drove the nails into his hands and feet. Christ alone sustained the life of the one who ripped the flesh from his back. 

If you are in Christ, he is the vine and you are the branches. If we abide in him, Jesus tells us, we will bear much fruit. 

But what about those weeks where I feel like a failure? What about the ones who know the gospel by head and not by heart? What happens when the gospel falls on deaf ears? Have I failed God? Did I fail Zach when he did not accept the truth? 

When I rely on the strength of myself, I am bound to fail; for he is the vine and if I abide in him, I will bear much fruit. Without him, I, myself, can do nothing. Too often, I felt like a failure this summer.

Why aren’t these words softening his heart? 

The Lord was gracious enough to reveal the answer to me.

It is not my job to soften hearts. 

I am not the One who gives ears to the deaf and eyes to the blind. 

Dave came to repentance, not because I presented the gospel in a certain way with my many polished words. The Spirit touched his heart, softened his heart, through a skit that I was asked to act in. It had nothing to do with me. 

So what is my job? Zach did not come to repentance that week. Does that mean I am a poor servant of the Lord? I may be a poor servant, but that is because of my sinful nature; praise the Lord because God is constantly working on that. 

Jesus leaves us with specific instructions. “Go tell everyone what you have heard and seen.” My calling this summer was not to soften hearts; I was called to be faithful. I was called to preach the gospel regardless of the fruit I may or may not get to see. I was called to plant seeds in faith that the One who gives life to all will water and provide sunlight. 

I leave you with these thoughts.

Let go of the burden that you think belongs to you. Surrender it. You are not strong enough to bear it. Instead, lean into the One who is. Let these words comfort you, as God has comforted me with them: Be still and know that I am God. 

Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 15:58, “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord, your labor is not in vain.” Be steadfast. Stay faithful. Abide in him, and he and you. Take comfort in the knowledge that salvation is not up to you. 

Thank you for listening to my ramblings and learnings from the summer. Praise the Lord with me for his faithfulness.