A tale of two tales, Part 2: You say you don’t need God?

Return, O backsliding children, saith the LORD; for I am a husband unto you.  Jeremiah 3:14, English Revised Version

A microburst of revival hit the camp where I worked as a counselor during the summer of 1975. For all of the staff and many of the campers, Jesus was front and center—whether you liked it or not. When God moves, no one can box Him in or shut Him out.

I was a leadership counselor that summer, meaning I trained teens in a two-summer program to be counselors. I had also gone through the program as a teen, and now—at the ripe old age of 20—I was training 15 and 16 year olds myself. But I was not the bitter feminist I had been the summer before; I had been born again and was on fire for Jesus. For an up-close glimpse into the revival that happened the summer of ’75, see http://www.firstofallpray.com/?p=1447.

One 15 year old leader-in-training that summer had also recently been saved, and she and I had an instant connection in the Lord. Susie’s face beamed whenever I shared my testimony with the other teens, and I always egged her on to tell her story as well, which she was thrilled to do.

In 1976, I returned to help direct the same leadership program. Susie was back as well for her second year of the training, and I was eager to catch up with her to hear about all of her adventures in God. I figured that once you were saved, you stayed on fire. Was I ever shocked to learn that this was not always the case!

Susie had backslidden over her past year in high school. She was gracious enough but made it clear that she had no interest in talking about the Lord. I was stumped, but I just loved her and treated her like all my other counselors-in-training. And I prayed for her.

After their first session as a group under the tutelage of three other twenty-somethings and me, the teens then launched out into the various areas and programs of the camp as junior counselors (JCs). They were not paid for their first JC experience, but many plugged in to other areas after that to make a whopping $30 or so a session. Susie was one of those who stuck around after her first cabin of kids.

Third session arrived, and the leadership program was devoid of boys for that 10-day period—first time ever. So the two male counselors ditched Laura, my cohort, and me to fill in at other positions for the session. That was fine; we had a great group of seventeen rambunctious girls, full of life and fun, and they didn’t seem to care at all about the missing guys.

Each leadership session went on a three-night camping trip, usually somewhere out on one of Missouri’s scenic rivers. We typically chose remote locations—not the big campgrounds—and taught primitive camping skills and rudimentary camp crafts. And mainly, we just kicked back and enjoyed nature and each other. But with this group of seventeen girls, the camp director felt we needed a third leader to accompany us on the camping trip, so he asked Susie to fill the bill.

Off we went, along with an ecstatic Susie, piled with our gear into a van and the back of Big Red. Big Red was a ramshackle old truck that had been there ever since I was a camper, outfitted with wooden rails surrounding the wooden truck bed, and those rails were the only things separating sleeping bags, equipment, and teen-aged girls from bouncing out onto the winding two-lane highways and gravel roads. Our drivers flew down those country roads, and we sang and laughed and hung on for dear life.

We made it to our spot—a very remote location on the Meramec River. What an amazing site! The girls made camp under a thirty-five foot cliff, and the three counselors set up closer to the river, nestling our ground tarps and sleeping bags on the luxurious comfort of the sandy bar by the stream.

Of course, at night, there was the campfire and s’mores following my favorite camp supper of foil packs with hamburger, potatoes, onions, and cheese baked in glowing embers before we built the fire into a towering flaming giant.

After the last song was sung and the last tale had been told, with the fire dying back to quiet crackling, I shared about the Lord of nature who loved all of us so much that He gave His Son. The girls listened attentively, but I noticed that Susie was looking down, not giving eye contact. After the girls retreated to their sleeping bags, Laura decided to turn in for the night as well, leaving Susie and me to talk.

She told me that her past year in high school was incredible. She had made a whole new set of friends and had become very involved in everything. I asked about her relationship with Jesus, wanting to minister the love and grace of God to her.

“I’m president of student counsel,” she asserted. “I’m popular, and I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need God.”

She was flirting with danger. As I argued and pleaded and shared with her out of Scripture that she certainly did need the Lord, that He longed for her to return to Him, she rebuffed every word I said.

I crawled into my sleeping bag, praying quietly for her long into the night.

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, a couple of girls bounded up to the counselors—snoozing away in our sleeping bags—ready to hike.

“Mmmmphh,” I mumbled. Susie volunteered to go with them, so I told them to be back by breakfast.

And what happened next to the girl who “didn’t need God” would be indelibly branded onto my soul—and hers—forever.

Tomorrow: On the edge of the cliff without God.