Summer Camp Nostalgia

Earlier this week, I spent a couple of hours at Montreat Conference Center, where PASSPORT was holding a 4-day session of camp for children. When a friend reached out to let me know she would be attending as a chaperone with her daughter’s group, I jumped at the chance to spend time catching up with her, knowing I could also check in on my own church’s group.

After lunch, as we watched children setting off from the checkpoint for their afternoon activities, my friend asked, “Do you miss this? Or is it nostalgia?” She had served as a PASSPORT staffer before she had children of her own, so she knew my visit to camp likely stirred up memories and emotions.

During the decade I served as associate pastor at a Baptist church in Nashville, I took groups to nine PASSPORTkids camps and five PASSPORT youth camps. My first experience in the summer of 2011 with four precious children convinced me that this camp would be a cornerstone of my ministry as long as I served in that church. When youth ministry was added to my job description four years later, I was delighted to have the chance to add a second PASSPORT session to my calendar each summer.

My friend’s question prompted an immediate flood of fond memories. Those summer camp experiences helped me deepen relationships not only with the children and youth of my church, but also with the adults who accompanied us as chaperones. Camp was a truly a liminal space, a place where the “wild goose” of the Spirit worked wonders.

Church group reflection times after worship were particularly meaningful, when students shared how the music or prayer practice or sermon had resonated with them. Mealtimes were also marvelous, as our group lingered around the table to compare camp stories. “Let the children come to me,” Jesus instructed his disciples. “Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children.” (Luke 18:16) Through the eyes of the campers, I gained fresh perspective on the kingdom of God.

Summer after summer, I drew inspiration from the energetic PASSPORT staffers. I trusted them. I did not have to worry that manipulative tactics would be employed to push children and youth to make “decisions” for Jesus. I valued the ecumenical theology, the use of inclusive and accessible language, and the diverse staff. I was deeply grateful that the role of camp pastor was not limited to young men.

I routinely returned home from camp looking for ways to incorporate the creative, contemplative prayer practices we explored during worship into my ministry. I continue to utilize many of those practices as I work with men in recovery and women in prison.

“Do you miss this? Or is it nostalgia?” I don’t miss the hard work that precedes camp - promotion, planning, packing. I took my role as group leader very seriously, for I knew parents and grandparents were entrusting their children’s lives to me. Driving a van filled with children or youth was a serious responsibility. I also don’t miss the physical and mental exhaustion that naturally accompanies camp. And I certainly don’t miss the “herding cats” element of every camp experience.

As I stood on the grounds of Montreat this week, I certainly did feel a wave of nostalgia. That wave didn’t crest until later in the evening when I perused photos from my own PASSPORT days. Precious memories, how they linger.

I am aware that nostalgia can be dangerous, distorting our view of the past and fostering discontentment. How many times have I heard folks lament the passing of the “good old days,” when church pews were full and Sunday services didn’t have to compete with soccer tournaments. Yet the reality is that those “good old days” weren’t good for people of color, women, or folks in the LGBTQ+ community. I don’t want to go back to those days.

My nostalgia for those nine summers of PASSPORT camps can be productive if I revisit the reasons I value those memories and then ponder ways I can continue to nurture those values in this season of life. How do I create space for intentional spiritual conversations? How often do I share sacred stories over a meal with friends? What am I learning from others about God by reflecting on a shared worship experience, discussing a passage of Scripture, or praying together?

Do you have a summer camp experience that evokes a wave of nostalgia? What do you miss? What did you learn? What can you recreate?

Thanks for the memories, PASSPORT. May the wild goose of the Spirit continue to blow through every session of camp.

A Calamitous Miracle

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