Just A Big Kid
Spending the Week With the Children of Our Diocese at Camp
This week I find myself sweaty, dirty, exhausted, and fulfilled. I have spent the last week serving as a chaplain at Episcopal summer camp at Chapel Rock, the camp and conference center of the Diocese of Arizona. I have never attended camp before in any capacity, so this week was a week full of learning and growing in ministry. While I love to see children in worship and at play, I don’t have a whole lot of experience working with kids. I did teach religion to first, second, third, and fourth graders at an Episcopal school, and I have taught Sunday school for years. But I’ve never spent this much time with this many kids in one setting. While ministry to children takes a whole lot of energy, I have discovered it is also tremendously rewarding.
If I’m honest with myself, I’m kind of just a big kid at heart. I have been known to roller skate down the church aisles while asperging the faithful with holy water. One of my favorite stoles has a floral aloha print on it. I have a nice display of toys in my office. I enjoy Disney shows and parks and clothes. I like to play and I like to have fun. That being said, it was much easier to fit in at camp than I expected it to be. This week I had a chance to earn trust from the campers by meeting them where they are. In ministry, meeting people where they are is really the only way to fly. Just like adults don’t like to be talked down to, kids don’t like it either. They can tell when we’re being disingenuous, and they can tell when we’re being patronizing. I have learned that the best way to earn trust from children is to let them pelt us with water balloons or spray us with squirt guns. I’ve also learned that they’re relentless when it comes to getting us soaked. And once that trust is earned, it is a trust that is more valuable than gold.
The kids have really taught me so much this week. Children are much more in tune with their emotions than many of us are in adulthood. They laugh when something is funny, they cry when they’re sad, and they smile when they feel joy. Sure, adults do those things as well. But I think something must happen in late adolescence that convinces us to taper down our emotions. To not let ourselves feel things. To not cry “too much.” To not let our emotions make other people feel uncomfortable. In addition to letting the kids completely drench me with water, I also had the sacred opportunity to let them cry with me, to let them laugh with me, and to let them tell me about what was heavy on their hearts. We prayed together and we prayed together. Both are tremendously important.
When we arrived on Sunday night, we celebrated the Eucharist together. Nearly everyone in attendance came forward to receive holy communion. Some were likely receiving communion for the first time. Some didn’t know quite how to hold their hands to receive the consecrated bread. Some knew exactly what they were used to doing. Some helped teach others how to receive. But nearly everyone who came forward for communion came forward with a look of joy in their eyes and a smile on their faces. There is nothing in ministry that warms my heart more than experiencing the look on a child’s face when they receive holy communion. I have seen kids skipping in the communion line, dancing in the communion line, swinging their arms, laughing, and even asking for “a big piece!” of communion bread. When people tell me kids “don’t get it” about Eucharistic theology, I tell them about that look of joy I see all the time. I have two graduate degrees in theology, and I promise, those children “get it” better than I do! I wish I “got it” the same way they do.
There were so many lessons learned this week. One is that kids are very competitive. Another is that they are pretty darn good about raising each other up. On the playing field, there can be some tension surrounding these two ideas. Competition means there are winners and losers. Just like adults, kids are happy to win and sad to lose. But the winners are sure quick to raise up the spirit of those who didn’t win. They encourage each other in ways I haven’t seen. It’s really a beautiful thing. Parents, whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it well. I noticed this firsthand when I attempted the “ropes course.” I had tried to climb the rock wall at Chapel Rock once before during a clergy retreat. That day, I made two attempts to climb. Each time, I only made it about halfway up the wall. And I was fine with that because I’m not that crazy about heights and the only way down is riding a zipline. But this week, the oldest kids here were invited to try the rock wall and I joined them on their endeavor.
Some were scared, but some seemed to be professionals. They zipped up the walls like little hamsters making their way up an obstacle course in a cage. The most comfortable kids were asked to go first and last, while the novices were asked to go somewhere in the middle of the pack. I planted myself firmly in the middle. When it was my turn to climb, I struggled. But the kids all cheered me on. They chanted my name as I stumbled and even lost my grip twice. With their support and encouragement, I finally reached the top! Only then did I realize I would have to come down. And in line ahead of me was a girl who was noticeably terrified of the zipline. I told her I was scared, too, but I promised her she would be safe. I even promised her she’d have fun and she’d be glad she did it. After hemming and hawing for a long time, she finally got the nerve to push herself off. During her zipline, as she spun around, I saw a huge smile on her face. Fortunately, I was right. But unfortunately, it was my turn next. Now, I realized, I had to eat my own words. I couldn’t back out after encouraging her to go. I took a breath, pushed myself off, and nearly passed out from the initial drop. But once I felt the zipline engage with the cable, I, too, enjoyed my journey back to the ground. I returned to the lodge sweaty, dirty, out of breath, and sunburned. But all those things earned me some street cred with the kids. “Fr. Tim! You slayed it!” one little girl told me. Apparently, that’s a good thing these days.
I ponder a lot about kids in church. If you follow this blog, you know it’s something I’m passionate about. This week at camp has served to amplify my passion for supporting children and offering them a “safe space”. It also has reinforced my belief that adults have a lot to learn from children. Sure, they have a lot to learn from us, too. And they depend on us to keep them safe. But kids aren’t afraid to ask the tough questions. They aren’t afraid to use their resources. They aren’t afraid to seek God in all things. And they aren’t afraid to love or to be loved. In fact, they crave it. But if we’re honest with ourselves, don’t we all? Don’t we all have an inherent need to be loved and to love in return?
Kids are honest. They are innocent. They are playful. They feel their feelings and then they go on with their day. I have seen kids this week who had total meltdowns, only to shift gears and then jump right into playing a game in a matter of seconds. I have seen kids cry because they spilled ketchup on their favorite shirts, only to see them go roll in the mud while wearing the same shirts. I’ve seen kids throwing up and feeling crummy, only to later brag about how much came out of them. While I know they will likely outgrow those qualities, part of me hopes that they don’t. Their responses to life events are so natural. So human. So genuine.
If you have children (even grown children) in your life, I ask you to tell them you love them. And I encourage you to be a safe person for them. Let them know that you are trustworthy and caring. Never let them wonder if you love them. As a priest, I commit to welcoming children into the sanctuary. Even when their behavior is unpredictable. In fact, especially when their behavior is unpredictable. I will never forget my time here at Chapel Rock. If I’m invited back, I likely will come again. But I certainly won’t forget my first experience. Camp ought to be fun and educational. But if the kids learned two things from me, I’m happy. Those two things are that God loves them and Fr. Tim loves them. If they learned anything on top of that, then it's all icing on the cake. The same is true for you. If you are reading this, please know that God loves you. And Fr. Tim loves you, too.