Strike!

It rains a lot at Mahaffey. Well, it seems to rain a lot when I am there. Thus, the nickname - "Mud-haffey."

When I say "Mahaffey," I mean PA. I also mean the Christian and Missionary Alliance (CMA) camp. It is where my wife, Dondra, would spend a couple of weeks every summer when CMAers from every corner of western PA would come together to make a unique Christian community.

Saturday night, it was raining in Mahaffey - again. In fact, it was more than just rain. It was a good old-fashioned thunderstorm. Lots of lightning. Lots of thunder. A perfect night to sit on your porch and watch the wonder of it all.

JJ, Natalie, Elizabeth, Joel and I were sitting on the porch enjoying the storm. It was spectacular! And as we counted out the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, we knew that many of the strikes were close to camp.

Just as we made that comment, we saw a tree light up less than 100' from our porch. Whether the light went from top to bottom or bottom to top (or both), we can't say. The strike happened - so fast! But we do know that wood splinters were everywhere. Some were as large as 6' long and as smooth as a saw cut.

It was terrifying and awesome all at the same time. We were shaking with delight. It was one of those events that sort of marks you. You begin to realize that you are not much in control.

"The Heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims His handiwork."

Legacy

I have just spent a week at Camp Hickory Hill (Varysburg, NY) as the Camp Shepherd. It has been a great week, and though I have been here a lot of times over the past 12 years, this experience seems unique to me.

There is no doubt that I have reached an age when I think about ministry differently. My shifting focus is on what I am leaving behind. It is no longer a matter of using the gifts and skills I have been given, but rather, investing in young people in such a way that they can use theirs. I don't know if I am late in getting into this mindset, but I have found it profoundly fulfilling.

Much of the mystique that surrounds Camp Hickory Hill is about legacy. It is about training boys to be men. It is about training young men to be men of God.

This week, I have been observing young men serve as leaders that I once had as campers. As campers, they were consistent headaches. They stepped over the boundaries. They frequently wandered from the group. They were fidgety. At times, I was tempted to see them as hopeless.

But now, as leaders, they are remarkably different. They are focused. They are servants. They are on a mission to lead campers into a relationship with Jesus. They have stepped forward into a glorious adventure.

It is an adventure that has continued through the ages, beginning when twelve men followed Jesus around the Galilean countryside. I find being a part of that legacy extremely satisfying.