“Why can't we smoke weed?” “Why do bad things happen to good people?” “Why does God take good people away early?” All questions we were bombarding our counselors and staff with at camp. At sixteen years old, sitting amongst my peers in a sweltering heat of the chapel building and wondering when they would give something that was not safe as an answer. As the director of camp cycled through question after question we had written down on little slips of paper just trying to figure it all out. While some of us had used the questions as a frame to throw some hilarity into life, some people took it seriously and asked things bothering them for months, questions that had been on their backs and dragging them down into the muck of everyone else's lives and out of the “chosen people” we were so often told we were supposed to be. We asked questions so that we could become set apart.
“This question is one of my favorites.” The directors voice billowed, able to fill so many of us sitting in those seats with fear and love and every other emotion at the same time. I turned to him and saw the sweat rolling over his large frame as he moved the microphone away from his mouth so the audience could not hear his gasp for air as that I knew was happening. “Why do the older church leaders stop the youth from taking over.” He swiped his forehead, another gasp, a pause as he collected his thoughts before uttering words that would undoubtedly change someones life forever. “This is a great question, I have been wrestling with it myself since I read it yesterday. I would like whoever wrote this to stand up.
I felt the sudden chill I often associate with my spiritual moments, while at the same time I was suddenly even more thankful I had rid my shirt of sleeves as I felt the sweat become even more profusely. I struggled as I glanced around anxiously and held onto the edge of my chair. I felt my legs quiver a slight bit as I stood up and almost hoped someone else would, that someone else would take credit for this embarrassing question that I had scribbled down finally after deciding not to go with the oddly humorous one that would not be answered. I stood up and turned to face him.
“I'm sorry, I really am, when I asked the person to stand up, I didn't know it was going to be Patric.” I heard my dad say as he looked me in the eye. This was when I had it all figured out, but somewhere along the way, I lost it all.
