I report on a matter of personal taste
Samuel stayed over at his (maternal) grandpa’s house last night. Karin & I took Daniel out on the town. Or, rather, to some cornfields – specifically, to Prairie Camp, the denomination’s local church camp. It was the first time I’d attended a service there. Readers will recall that earlier in our marriage, Karin & I made a few trips to Brown City Camp – in the “thumb” of Michigan – a larger, slightly more rustic version of Prairie Camp. And of course, I’d grown up visiting the campamento in Same, near Esmeraldas.
Anyway, at Prairie Camp, we left Daniel in the nursery, and then it dawned on me that this would be the first time in years that I’d be around Youth Group Christianity. (My own church doesn’t have more than one or two teens.) The high schoolers occupied the first few rows of the packed tabernacle. They waved their arms. The music was very loud; apart from that, it was pleasantly non-bombastic. A youth pastor preached the sermon. He told a story of a youth group game gone wrong. The game resulted in high schoolers trampling hundreds of marshmallows into a church’s carpet. The youth pastor had to clean the church by himself until five in the morning. This was a prelude to his message about the Parable of the Prodigal Son. (The prodigal son makes a mess of his life.) It was a good sermon.
Nothing about Prairie Camp was very objectionable, except, perhaps, the spiritual arm-twisting at fundraising time.
But man oh man, am I glad not to have to go to youth group meetings anymore.
But this is why it’s good to have institutions like Prairie Camp, where the old and the young mingle, because otherwise I doubt the different Christian groups would mingle at all.
More groups oughta mingle. Not just old and young white Hoosier Low Protestants, but other groups, too. There oughta be a camp where all the Christians meet together.
It would be a logistical nightmare, of course. Feeding would either have to be subsidized by some Christians or else managed on a “loaves and fishes” basis.
I leave mass transit (to the cornfield) and lodging (in the cornfield) as exercises for the reader. …
P.S. J.K. Rowling addresses these two problems in Harry Potter, book 4, in her discussion of the Quidditch World Cup. Spectators camp out in tents. That seems workable. Transit is trickier. It involves something called a “portkey.” That seems a little too mystical for traveling to church camp.
Anyway, at Prairie Camp, we left Daniel in the nursery, and then it dawned on me that this would be the first time in years that I’d be around Youth Group Christianity. (My own church doesn’t have more than one or two teens.) The high schoolers occupied the first few rows of the packed tabernacle. They waved their arms. The music was very loud; apart from that, it was pleasantly non-bombastic. A youth pastor preached the sermon. He told a story of a youth group game gone wrong. The game resulted in high schoolers trampling hundreds of marshmallows into a church’s carpet. The youth pastor had to clean the church by himself until five in the morning. This was a prelude to his message about the Parable of the Prodigal Son. (The prodigal son makes a mess of his life.) It was a good sermon.
Nothing about Prairie Camp was very objectionable, except, perhaps, the spiritual arm-twisting at fundraising time.
But man oh man, am I glad not to have to go to youth group meetings anymore.
But this is why it’s good to have institutions like Prairie Camp, where the old and the young mingle, because otherwise I doubt the different Christian groups would mingle at all.
More groups oughta mingle. Not just old and young white Hoosier Low Protestants, but other groups, too. There oughta be a camp where all the Christians meet together.
It would be a logistical nightmare, of course. Feeding would either have to be subsidized by some Christians or else managed on a “loaves and fishes” basis.
I leave mass transit (to the cornfield) and lodging (in the cornfield) as exercises for the reader. …
P.S. J.K. Rowling addresses these two problems in Harry Potter, book 4, in her discussion of the Quidditch World Cup. Spectators camp out in tents. That seems workable. Transit is trickier. It involves something called a “portkey.” That seems a little too mystical for traveling to church camp.