When Someone Trusts

It really is amazing what kind of growth happens when someone trusts us.

Sitting on the sparse grass and sandy soil just outside of Cedar Lodge the kickball rolled, bounced and arced its way around the circle. With each pass the name of the intended recipient was shouted.  “Brian!” “Scott!” “Darren!” “Chris!” “Scott!” “Chris!” “Mike!” “Rodney!” “Jonesy!” I keep track of who is getting the most passes and who is getting the least. I memorize the faces and try to burn the names into my memory. This is my tribe, my group, my cabin, my boys, my campers. We’ll be together for a week and the sooner we get to know each other’s names the better.

The ball keeps going back and forth across the circle faster and faster and I am suddenly aware that six sets of parents have just dropped off their pride and joy. Some were handed over with a gush of relief and the dream of getting home to a quiet house. Others reluctantly let go of their son’s hand and would loiter around the edge of the parking lot until we hiked off towards our cabin. They would come back on Saturday morning, six days from now, to eagerly embrace their child and listen to them recite everything that happened during the week.

Every summer during college I worked at a Bible camp in northeast Iowa. 500 acres of rocky, hilly, forested terrain in the middle of corn and hay fields provided a natural playground to hike, run, explore, swim and get out of a normal routine. We would read from the Bible, tell stories, sing songs around campfires, play flashlight tag after dark, make crafts, swim in the giant pool of freezing water and talk about God and creation. Other groups, with older kids, would go canoeing or backpacking away from the main camp. We would cook over an open fire, eat trail lunches and stop at the Canteen for an afternoon ice cream cone. For six days I was responsible for keeping this group of boys alive, healthy and having fun.

Sensing that a couple of the boys were getting tired of the game we stood up and started out for the cabins at the south end of the camp. Some, who had been to the camp in previous years, wanted to know if we were going to things they had done before. One wanted to know when we were going swimming. One wanted to know when he could start a fire. I make a mental note to keep that one busy and make sure the matches are always in my pocket.

When I was a kid I was dropped off at Bible camp myself so it seemed natural for a parent to leave their kid at camp for a week. As a 19-year-old counselor, now responsible for six young lives that were not my own, I wondered how they could do that. Why would a parent leave their kid with me, a complete stranger, for an entire week?  Why would someone trust me like that?

I remember being awestruck by that realization. As someone who has taken their own kids to camp I know how hard it is to drive away and trust them to a college-aged young adult who has never met them before. But I also know how much a child can grow in one short week and how it begins to prepare them to be independent one day.

Having people entrust me with the lives of their children helped prepare me for ordained ministry. In addition to the practice I get leading worship around a campfire or preparing a Bible study or listening as a lonely child lamented the fact they were with you and not at home I also learned what it was like to have someone trust me with one of their most precious possessions. Later, in ordained ministry, I was floored by the way people would trust me with the memory of a loved one’s life at a funeral. I was honored to be brought into families at holy and sacred moments like a birth or death, a baptism, a confirmation, a wedding or anniversary. I am still surprised that people entrust me to speak their fears and longings, their joys and sorrows in public prayers and worship.

When someone trusts me like that I never want to let them down. I know that sometimes I do and at other times I live up to the responsibility.

What completely amazes me, though, is the way that God trusts me with all of creation and with the life that has been given to me. When I forget that trust is a gift and only see it as a burden, well, that’s when I tend to fail. But when I recognize that something precious has been put in my hands and that I can help nurture and encourage it towards its’ intended purpose it humbles me and fills me with the joy I need to do a good job.

For those who have trusted me over the years, Thank You.