the getting away

It’s near midnight I believe. As we have no reception out here, (and through the years I have fallen prey to only using my cellphone to tell the time) I’m generally unaware of the hour for a few days. My church’s “getaway” is this weekend and we’re at Camp NaCoMe located near the middle of nowhere. Note: If you’re wondering what NaCoMe means in the respective Native American languate it may be taken from, I regretfully inform you that it is actually just a combination of the three cities that triangulate around the camp: Nashville, Columbia, and Memphis. I know. Dissapointing.)

It takes a lot to get me to things like this nowadays. Namely because I can choose not to, and usually do. When we’re children, we’re generally made to do things that we don’t want to. We may had rather stay up until midnight and eat twinkies, but our parents knew we’d be tired an malnourished…so we didn’t. We don’t have that now, but sometimes I think we need it.

Anyway, the weekend is designed to actually spend time and get to know the people you are in this church community with, talk about what the church is and what it’s doing. There’s a lot of Q & A, and a lot of play time to really just spend time with people. I was a camp couselor for years, but I never really outgrew a general hesitation towards things like this. I feel silly going around and everyone saying their names. As we actually did this this first night here, Cari leaned over and articulated exactly what I was thinking, “this is why I don’t come to stuff like this.” But, I should.

More and more we can live on our own terms and participate or engage when we’d like or is convenient, but generally find a myriad of excuses not to do what we don’t’ want to do. I could have gone to this last year. I was in town. And it’s not a matter of being busy. I’m busy this week. It’s just that I didn’t want to go. There are unknowns (this is a huge one), plus you have to DO things with other people…just generally out of most comfort zones I have.

But, often even if my intentions are askew (which they always prove to be), their continually redeemed. When I go because I think I should or that it’s the “right” thing to do, God trumps my legalism and reveals himself to be who he really is. Kevin said something tonight that, as per usual, articulates it much more directly than I ever could, “We are called to submit ourselves to something greater than what we want at that moment.” Someone earlier in the service had said, “if you feel comfortable, share something that you have to be thankful for” (or something to that extent. Kevin’s response (after clarifying he meant no offense) was that it doesn’t really matter if you feel comfortable. That’s not the goal. If anything, it’s often a hindrance or a sign that I’m not really letting the gospel transform my heart. Without realizing it, I set my course to one chasing after personal satisfaction, independence, stability, happiness, rather than run towards the maker of all these things. I have an idea of what would be good for my life. May God continually dismantle the houses I build for myself and may he, instead, fulfill his promise of lavishing on us more blessings than we con conceive.