My faith memories, in no particular order.
I will never forget the quiet.
It was a sizeable group, all high school aged, and all seated in lawn chairs on a gravelly bank of the Merced River in Yosemite. We’d walked to the spot from our campsite and arranged ourselves in a cluster facing the water which slid by, icy and slow, before us. Twilight was falling rapidly in that valley surrounded by massive, sheer granite cliffs, so that the sky and mountains were both melting into the same shade of bluish gray. We had sung–one of the most powerful worship experiences in my short life–and at some point there was a silence. Perhaps we were praying, or perhaps waiting, if there’s a difference.
A few moments of quiet. The sound of feet and metal chairs gently shifting on river rock. The soundless movement of the river. The almost tangible magnitude of the silence revealed as ambient noise echoed from across the valley against the rock walls which surrounded us. But mostly I remember the trees and the hush-swish as the wind combed through the tops of the pines. Bending my head back and opening my eyes and seeing nothing but the rocking bending of the treetops against the pale blue sky. A full, felt silence that made me sense I was glimpsing peace as God’s Spirit gives it.
Quiet like that is hard to find.
I decided that night to continue my education at a Bible college, a commitment which shook me and made the adrenaline flow as I thought about friends applying to Stanford and MIT, and the teachers who expected “more” of me. Decision time–the last night of our trip. The best and worst night of the week. Rueing a return to life as usual, and relishing the fun of four hour long Uno games, renewals of friendships, and the respite of a week lived in tents and with perpetually dirty feet, the last night is the hardest. It means saying goodbye to another week of experiences with a particular group which will never–ever–happen again.
Brushes with deep quiet and with things I am about to lose have always helped me to become ready to choose God. That choice and the numberless fears and sacrifices it occasioned have never left me. Neither has the quiet, or the God who gives it.
September 10th, 2007 at 8:48 am
That last paragraph, mostly the last sentence, gave me chills. The good kind.
I think it is difficult to put into words one’s personal encounter with God. Those who have had the experience can relate immediately to another’s description of his or her experience. I think those who are seeking will recognize in it something for which they long. Those who remain rebellious in attitude toward the idea of a God, who desires personal relationship with them, will most likely see nothing but ‘unintelligent emotionalism’.
So, as difficult as it might be to put into words the kind of peace and quiet that God’s Spirit gives, I think it is a good thing to attempt. And I think you did it well. Nice to read. Thanks.
September 10th, 2007 at 11:21 am
Have I got some good theology to talk about. Maybe I will just send you my book I have been reading, “The Parables” by Dr. Brad Young. Great book and profound in terms of Studying the Jewish Parables of Jesus in light of Jewish Parables of the time and context. Makes me wonder much, such as, Have Christians got some things wrong?
Good Reflection. I too was discussing with Lindsay the fun times of youth group camping trips. I understand many of us are moving on, growing up and all the likes. But I don’t think that it is an impossibility. If we all got together and planned something out. I think it would be awesome next summer for a few of us couples to get together, go camping, and worship God as in the olden days. Let’s discuss soon. Maybe I will make an extra special trip to SD for discussion and book trading.
jason
September 10th, 2007 at 5:29 pm
Very beautiful descriptions, I like. Even though I only went to Yosemite once in high school, this post brings back memories.
I think Jason is right, that a trip like this could be organized, but I think Denise is right in that it will never truly “happen again.” You could organize the exact same people to attend, the exact same spot, even the same weather, but it wouldn’t be the same. That experience, at that age, and through that high school lens can’t be replicated.
That’s not to discourage you Jason, merely relating to Denise’s adolescent meanderings.
September 10th, 2007 at 5:46 pm
There is something in particular about the cast which one’s teen years throw over memories. All the experiences then were accompanied by heightened emotion, and my memories of them are consequently tinted by a romantic or dramatic shade which has disappeared in my twenties. I have a feeling faith will be very different and very fun across the decades.
September 11th, 2007 at 10:57 am
I concur. And I do agree with you Nate, we can never replicate something like that. But being older, more mature, and many of us in families, it would still be a good idea to get together and go camping, as adults this time, strengthening our relationships into better ones and enjoying the past memories.
September 11th, 2007 at 7:10 pm
Jason, camping, books and parables and visiting should all happen soon. You know where to find us.
September 18th, 2007 at 11:10 am
Your entry today moved me to tears…read this on a day when (I needed) to be taken back to one of those quiet moments I’ve experienced in my life. Beautiful…Thank you.