This is what I saw Sunday morning. I can say that I throughout the weekend this view was one of the most spectacular experienced.

This is big sky country in Kentucky.

I spent 2 nights sleeping in the backseat of a Nissan Titan. Rain could have been a problem at Fall Creek Falls, had I been in my tent. I decided not to risk it and found comfort in the truck. The truck was liveable. I’m around 5’10” and the truck was just 5 inches too narrow. The same holds truck for the width of the backseat. I realize that Nissan didn’t design the backseat for sleeping, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.

Fall Creek Falls is a unique place and sometimes I wonder if we as Tennesseans aren’t taking it for granted. Half a dozen waterfalls. Cliffs. Outcrops. Certainly you would not find such a place elsewhere in the world exactly like the state park.
I was asked to give a short Biblical lesson on Sunday morning. I think I did a good job, although I wasn’t as prepared as before. I didn’t need to be.
My only regret this weekend was not being able to photograph, as I was not prepared with fresh batteries. I got 3 photos out of it and you’re looking at one of them.

Today I was reminded about how precious life is. I heard a father speak of the pain he went through (and is still going through) due to the loss of his son 9 years ago. Suicide. What a waste! The survivors are left thinking if there was anything they could have done. And in many cases the victim hides his pain so well, there may not have been warning signs.
I saw the beauty of God’s workmanship in a little known ridge in southern Kentucky. I hiked along the interior into wooded areas I hadn’t seen before. Managed to catch sight of a deer before it ran away.
Saw the artifacts of a previous church camp when I came across a rusted shaving cream can from a past prank. No word on how old it was. Tossed in the woods and forgetten, I stumbled across it and re-tossed it in the trash can this time so that it could be buried once again, this time in a landfill.
Caught a sunrise at Taylor Christian Camp, one thing that I had managed to miss on consective years due to laziness and lack of motivation. The fact that the sun rose at 7AM helped a bit.
Can there be a better place than this? For me the answer is no. It always reminds me of things that really matter. It reminds me of the friendships that were forged there. The relationships that were strengthened. The commitments which were established.

One of my post-camp duties is to put together a camp slide show/video. And it seems to be coming together nicely. At this point I am way ahead of what I was doing last year. It’s interesting that when you get home from camp you figure you might have a few good pictures. But seemingly there are quite a few gems, plenty to make a slide show. The editing will still take time. It’s a constant battle with myself and a combination of motivation and time.
Here are some questions I’ve pondered lately. I’d like to develop them into their own blog entries, but so far they’re just questions.
Why is the Christian army the only army that shoots its wounded?
How does one bottle the excitement and spirituality of camp? If you were to be able to do that and break it out whenever you needed it, you’d probably make a fortune.
Do dreams about going back to school, having a report due, etc., mean that you’re afraid you’re being evaluated in real life?
Discuss….

A father embraces his son after his baptism. Just a couple of hours before this same father preached a sermon which called sinners to repentence.
This is why we do what we do. The overwhelming joy one experiences when a sinner comes in contact with blood of Jesus.
Reflecting on the past week, I can tell you that between the hours of 8PM and 10:30 PM on June 11th, was probably the most baptisms I had seen ever. 13. 13 souls went to church camp expecting fun and recreation and along the way became new creatures.
Disclaimer: I didn’t take the picture to the right. I wish I had.

I got back from camp Friday night. I guess my blog would be incomplete without a report about what happened.
The biggest part was the 13 baptisms in one night after an emotional sermon. “Do you love Jesus?” Outside I was rejoicing. Inside I was apprehensive and praying that these kids weren’t just jumping on the bandwagon. I’ve said it before: Decisions based solely on emotionalism will wither and fade when the emotions are gone. I hope and pray that these kids stay faithful.
While I don’t want to limit preachers and how the Gospel is preached, I still have cold feet about it. Granted an emotional sermon might be the only way to reach some people. I just have to have faith that those counselors/preachers talking to these potential converts asked the right questions and make sure these folks were ready for baptism and a lifetime commitment.
Then there’s the pleaser, as another counselor called him. He’s the one looking for approval for everything he does. Emotional? Yes. I figure one of these days he’ll stand up for himself and start making decisions on his own before it is too late.
The kids were great. Bible class was a daily highlight. I was caught off guard with some of the questions.
It was one of the few times that I can be myself and feel comfortable, without necessarily feeling apprehensive about what people think of me or my family. If only I could keep this feeling bottled up for release when I need that extra boost of self confidence.
I made some new friends and said goodbye like I always do, only to return back home with no one to share common memories with. Am I limiting myself by only going with other churches to camp? Am I making the already existent rift with myself and my home congregation even larger?

I was asked to preach during the my church’s unofficial Memorial Day campout. I felt I did a good job preaching in front of 149 people. The audience was overwhelming positive toward me afterwards. I guess I may have surprised some people. I’m usually pretty quiet at church almost to the point of being anti-social.
Preaching takes alot out of me. I stressed that entire upcoming week trying to make sure I didn’t make a fool out of myself. Afterwards I finally felt like I could have fun for the remainder of the weekend.
At this point in my life I don’t think I could take on a regular preaching job. I’m sure preaching could get easier the more practice I put into it. Also I have more personal stressors in my life that would keep me from putting 100% of my efforts into caring for the lost.
Meanwhile I am preparing for the best week ever, or at least this year. Next week I’ll put in another week at Taylor Christian Camp – my 15th year. Camp has changed over the years – and not surprisingly I have changed. I still enjoy it tremendously, but it has turned into more work for myself, simply because I volunteer for more responsibility. “It’s the toughest job you’ll ever love,” as our camp director has described it.
I put alot of thought into it, but worry less about it. I have a tendency to go with the flow rather than stress about all the potential problems or having to have things “just right,” such as having the weather just right, at least one baptism, etc.

For all intensive purposes it was the loneliest night of my life. Friday I decided to drive up a day early for the annual cleanup day at camp. I somewhat expected others to be there. I arrived at 8pm to find the gate locked and no one else around.
Now it’s probably important to tell you that I’m used to living alone. I’ve been doing it for about 2 years now. And yet there are still street sounds and other sounds around to make me know that there are neighbors around.
This time, there was nothing. And somehow I was figuring there would be reinactment of Friday the 13th. I walked several hundred yards from the gate to the main cabin. Luckily it was open, with all the facilities, including a kitchen, shower and beds. It took two trips back to my car to get all of my stuff.
And the place was dark and abandoned. I now know that camp can seem so lonely and creepy without people around.
I wasn’t necessarily frightened, just somewhat apprehensive. I had heard stories about vagrants visiting the camp cabins in the off season to a temporary place to say. And yet, this camp has people up there all the time, seemingly. And I told myself that the gate was locked, so that no unauthorized people would hang around. Still, I’m not sure what I would done if I had encounters a visitor. Probably just ran. I had my cell phone on me. So at best I could find a weak signal while I was running away. 30 minutes for help to arrive. Yeah, I felt really safe.
I stayed in the basement with easy access to the nicer shower facilities across the hall. With only a David Shannon sermon mp3 on my thumbdrive playing on my laptop to keep me company, I settled down for the night. Each little drip or flow of water from the plumbing seemed to startle me.
I awoke at 5AM and decided to head on out to make a visit to the Lafayette Walmart. I figured the rest of the clean up crew would be arriving at around 7AM (many of whom I didn’t know). I thought it would probably be best to re-arrive after the gate was open, rather than try and explain myself to folks who might not know me. I did have permission to stay up there, I just wasn’t trying to have the appearance of doing something wrong.
Even the drive to Lafayette was unusual. In the twilight of dawn, it was still dark enough to make it necessary to use my headlights. And I did get lost, going instead toward Tompkinsville, instead of Lafayette (about 30 minutes out of my way).
If anything it showed me where the life of camp really was. This place, as great of a place it can be at times, is nothing without residents. It is people who bring life to the camp.

It was a full truckload of used school chairs which I had been talked into purchasing. I had no idea of what to do with them. I figured the church I attended already had enough. Then I had the idea to donate it to the church camp which I volunteer at during the summer.
The chairs sat around in my garage for several months until I got around to making the 2 hour drive to camp with them.
I halfway expected to see maintenance workers there. Sure enough there were about half a dozen of them there putting a porch on cabin #3. As I went around to each cabin placing a chair inside, I was reminded of how dead camp was this time of year. Not only the environment, but the camp itself. I get the same feeling of emptiness at the end of camp when everyone has left and I’m the last person there. And it was even moreso in the dead of winter. I took a few pictures while I was there, but the pictures don’t really do it justice. Sure there were signs of recent activity such as the rocking chairs inside around the fireplace, but there was the foreboding sense of emptiness. Much much different than the florishing Spring and Summer when retreats and summer camps happen.
It’s the same sense that one gets when visiting an empty church building, especially a large church building. I’ve been to my own church building many times where I am the only one there. And I found out something…buildings make noises when no one is there. Whether it’s the air conditioning, automatic ice maker or just the groaning that a house makes when it settles, there are noises. If you’re not aware of it, those noises can play havoc with one’s mind, which is why I don’t stick around empty church buildings for too long.
The moral of the story is that at the heart of every place is people. It’s people that give church camps and places of worship life.

Strangely enough I don’t feel as though I could colapse into bed. I’m sure that will change shortly.
I don’t know if there was anything significant to camp. I’m sure it was significant to some people, namely the three teenaged girls who were baptized while we were there. But I’m still trying to find the significance in my life. At this point I don’t know what that is. Maybe this was the camp where I eventually grew up and took responsiblity without necessarily feeling as though I had to do certain things to please myself or those around me.
I’m not necessarily feeling those blues that you get when you get home from camp. I guess it hasn’t hit me yet, and I’m not sure it will.
This week I learned to sleep with loud snoring; how to deal with seven 8 year olds who don’t neccessarily want to pay attention. And I learned that vacation doesn’t neccessarily mean rest. It can be pretty hard work at times – trying to be 2 places at once.
More to come later. I think that idea of colapsing into bed just hit me.