[legacy post from blogspot]
At our middle school Fall Retreat this weekend, we’re focusing on Psalm 1. Specifically, the students are being challenged to consider what the “blessed man’s” life is like. He avoids the wicked, sinners, and mockers’ influence, but instead delights in meditating on God’s law. What a rich source of inspiration for young believers to anchor to.
I went for an early morning jog today, venturing down Spoon Creek Road and past the I-35 underpass. Unlike most jogs, I went without the iPod today. It was a big change of pace to exercise and hear only the sounds of rural Miami County starting to wake up. After I was off of Camp’s drive, the only motor traffic was on the highway.
As I puffed along, I let the words of that Psalm resonate within, and I was reminded of an old Eric Champion song called “At the River’s Edge.” I was a brand new believer when that song was in – get this – my Walkman (that was that device that played these things called “cassette tapes”). Getting old school like that made me think of the ground I’ve been over since 1991. In many ways, I miss the simplicity and enthusiasm of my early days as a Christian. I also realize that maturity (or just the passage of time) can cut both ways. I value the perspective and wisdom that only time can afford. Years of thinking theologically have brought me far beyond my immature and sometimes careless approach to life and faith.
But the thing I really miss about those days as a college student is the ability and appetite I seemed to have then to hang out in God’s Word. It helped that some days I didn’t have class until afternoon, and would be able to find quiet places on campus to sit with God and people assumed I was simply studying. There’s a rhythm to the life of a college student living on campus that just can’t be replicated for most of us.
It is often a struggle in life today to carve out times to really meditate on and delight in God’s law. But apparently God still desires it for us. It’s just a discipline and cannot be taken for granted.
As I rounded the bend this morning back onto Camp property, I was struck again by how much I appreciate and love this place. Between cabin leading and church retreats, I have intersected with literally hundreds of lives within this space. I can’t begin to count all the conversations I’ve had or the friendships that have begun and continued at these benches, porches, tables, and walkways. I hope to be able to bless my own kids someday with their own YouthFront camp stories.
No more for now. The next item on our schedule is “One Mess Of a Time,” and it’s time to get ready.