The Spirit Of God

In case you've been under a rock and haven't heard me whining about it in the recent past, I'm the director of a small camp/conference in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The past two months have been filled with prep work, and now it's actually happening. I've been blown away in the first three days I've been here - to be simple, this is not the camp I planned, it is infinitely better than what I planned. God, as he always does for this camp, has come alongside and is working powerfully. I'm humbled by his actions, and each day I wake up trying to remember that it's not me, it's God. Last night, I gave my "Welcome to Camp" intro/mini-sermon. I got up to speak without a single page of notes, not entirely sure what God wanted me to say, but I stood up, read a passage from Ephesians, and proceeded to speak for about 15 minutes, asking campers to examine themselves and see if they are willing to let God work in their lives. I felt like it went alright, but all of my counselors informed me that it was exactly what was needed - again, it wasn't me, it was God.

So, this poem is about the struggle to try and manipulate things to fit the pattern I want, when if I just rely on God, he will prepare the way for me. So far, so good, I pray that I remain focused on Him! Thanks for the prayers, camps is going beautifully!

As the Spirit of God hovers

over the void of potential camps,

the word scramble of all that will

or would be said, a sea of text and praise,

I rush, my feet sloshing, not skimming,

on the path laid out, my eyes darting downwards,

my hands eager to seize hold

and cling to whatever words surface first,

while just above my head is Love,

and were my gaze to turn to that canopy,

I would find my feet planted

on solid sentences, into which our lives

may begin to take root.