I’ve written a number of times about experiences with Young Life. Many of which were good and happy experiences, a few not so good. Nevertheless, let it be known that I am thankful for the relationships I made during my time in Young Life. However, that will not hold me from expressing the poor experiences that have led me taking a step back from the organization later on in these chapters.
It wasn’t long after my first Young Life club that I started making friends with the guys that went. A few days after the first YL club I mustered the courage to go sit with two of the guys that were there who had an extra seat at their lunch table. It was the two of them and some other girls in our grade. I was nervous to ask but once I did it didn’t seem like a big deal. They were actually happy and welcoming of my weird, socially awkward ass.
You could’ve made a TV show out of that one lunch table. Outside of lunchtime, we all had out respective groups/cliques but we all vibed really well at that table. First up was one of the twins from Young Life. Known as the preppy guy with a little too much arrogance for his own good, both on and off the golf course. Either way, he’d have your back through anything, even if we was the occasional jackass. He sat directly across from me at the 8 seated round table. To his left was a guy I had known since second grade. But because of being homeschooled, he and I didn’t become friends again until then. He was the class clown, always making people laugh and had a mouth that ran wether or not we wanted it to.
He was never one to use criticism as a form of humor and was friends with just about anyone and everyone he met. The three of us guys held a weird dynamic but somehow it worked. The four girls never sat in the same seats but were always there. The first girl was the equivalent of a TikTok star then and was pretty much just a girl version of the class clown guy without the running mouth. She was “famous” on the livestream app called “You-Now” but that was later on in high school. The next two girls were inconsistent but sat there more than half the time. They were best friends, the attractive cheerleader pair that were loud and had a stereotypical ‘Friday Night Lights’ lights kind of attitude. The last girl was a curly haired blonde with a feisty attitude lets call her “S”. In most ways she was just a regular girl but at the time there was something about her I liked. I liked Her.
At this point I could get sidetracked with all the memories I have from that lunch table. But those individual stories aren’t very important. For the first time I felt like I had some real friends who were consistent, even though it was only for 45 minutes a day. That had a big impact on my attitude both socially and mentally. But underneath I was still leading a kind of double-life by myself at home.
This chapter started as my involvement with Young Life and I still intend for it to be. But I feel it’s important to tell you about these personal bits first.
My wholehearted involvement in Young Life didn’t start until my first camp trip to Sharptop Cove. Though I had been consistent in Club and Campaigners, I only cared to go for the social scene, same reasoning for me going to camp. It was a weekend camp and on the way there I expected it to be like the camps I’d gone to before but boy was I wrong. Borderline resort level cabins with our own beds made before we arrived. The game room, snack bar, basketball courts and rides all made for a fun experience, but it was the people that I loved the most. I’d never been around so many people at once. The meals were insane and so was club. If you’ve been to a camp before, I need not explain any of this to you. When it came to club I never cared much for the singing, dancing or club talks. I’d been to church for so long and was tired of it before I ever joined Young Life.
I just stood aside and went along while everyone else sang and danced, only to later doze off during the club talks. Same deal with the cabin times after club, I didn’t like to talk in those. The guys all just figured I was shy about talking. But truth is I was just ashamed of myself. There was no visual proof but this was the case in any kind of church related situation. I knew what I was doing at home alone was wrong but didn’t want to deal with it. So I’d just stay quiet.
It wasn’t until the last night during club when some things started to change. I had payed no mind to the speaker the entire weekend up until he was about to let us go. He caught my attention by telling us he was letting us out but held it for a short while after, asking us to take the next 20 minutes to talk to God. I thought, “Finally! I’ll just go back to the cabin and chill.” But when he let us all go, all the lights on camp were off. Everyone was silent.
Still on a mission to go back to the cabin, I started walking back in the pitch black dark. Funny though that our cabin, named Buckeye Ridge, was the furthest from the club room. Shortly after I started walking, a bunch of thoughts started hitting me. Thoughts telling me what kind of mistake I was. Feelings of guilt and regret flooded my head with memories of past mistakes. What was a 100 yard walk seemed like a mile, each step became heavier and heavier. I finally made it back to the steps of the cabin where I collapsed and sat crying. I asked questions wondering why I was the way I was. I battled with this guilt and shame that had loomed over me for years. This raw uncensored conversation with God became a spiritual therapy session where I struggled to make sense of my own worth. A bell started to ring and the lights across camp came back on. But I still sat with my face in my hands. People began to walk past me on the steps and one group even stood near me talking to themselves wondering wether to not it was ok to walk past me. They eventually did.
Over the next hour or so a few people stopped to talk and pray over me. One guy, from my Campaigner group, stopped first, we’ll call him “K”. He told me it was ok to cry and that God was there for me. I asked him to get my towel from the room to put over my head. I didn’t want people to see me.
This was the first time I’d opened my eyes since the lights came on, I had been crying so much that there was a puddle of tears on the step below, that puddle ran off the side of the step into the dirt. K left me there after praying for a bit. The next was some guy I didn’t know but he did the same as K. The last was an older guy from my school, we’ll call him “G”. He was a year older than me and one of the more popular guys in our school. He came and sat, calling me by name. I remember being surprised he knew my name. He sat and told me about him and some of the mistakes he’d made. He told me about his story going to camp the previous summer and how he decided to start a new life with Christ.
What G said resonated with me a lot. In many ways his story was like mine. He prayed with me too. The way he prayed stood out to me a lot, it sounded genuine and not rehearsed like all the other prayers I’d heard before. There was a sense of peace in the way he prayed over me. I wanted that peace. So after he left I sat for a little while longer wresting with my life. I first felt like God and I had to reach some kind of compromise, but there was also this desire to start over. I didn’t want to feel the way I did. So I gave God my heart, and in return I wanted to begin a new life. At the time I didn’t know the effort it would take or the roads it would lead me down, but I was ready for change.
This whole time, my campaigners group was sitting on the porch at the other side of the cabin behind me. I went and sat with them in the rocking chair they’d saved for me with the towel still draped over my head. My leader was leading the time as he always did so well. They were all going around talking about their stories and when they started their lives with Christ. Quite ironic might I say. But they went around in the circle and finally came down to me. Everyone kind of looked at me, my leader “J” had this little grin on his face, I assumed he knew what was coming. The twins spoke up and asked me when I’d given my life to Christ. I gave a smile and a little tear filled laugh while I looked at the bulky G-shock watch I had on and said, “Well… Right now.”
For a split second everyone sat quietly with some surprised looks on their faces but before I knew it they were all yelling and jumping around celebrating. One went to get G to tell him and he came running out to hug me. This had me crying again but no longer were the tears out of shame. I was so joyful I couldn’t contain it.
There are pictures from the following day before we left. Me and a handful of the guys with our, “Keep Calm and Sharptop,” pink sweatshirts on. A memorable picture with me in the back boasting a genuine smile on my face. A testament to the joy the Lord had begun to bring at a questionable time of my life. And the beginning to the hardest thing I would ever set out to do. Walking with God.
I went home not wanting to tell my parents about the weekend because I assumed they’d either be mad or not believe me since I’d grown up in church. I assumed they would say that my decision was invalid or that I was just chasing attention or emotions. So I chose not to tell them or my sister.
Over the next year or so, J and I worked together on getting into the word and being honest about struggles. It was a peaceful time where my life finally seemed to make sense. S was also excited to hear from the guys what had happened. By this time she had become a closer friend, but didn’t know I liked her. Over that year I would open up more and more to the guys in my campaigner group, telling them about my life and mistakes. At one point we all made a pact where we’d give updates on how we were struggling and came up with ways we could all help one another escape when it was happening. When we all started this we told each other about our history. When it came to my turn to talk and I told them the first time I’d been exposed was when I was 9, this rightfully surprised them. They all collectively assumed I was the goodie church kid of the group who’d never done anything wrong. But to their surprise, I’d been the one with the most baggage when it came to that topic. All of these things combined for a good community system when those tempting feelings came up. But the problem was it only worked when you wanted it to and more often than not, I didn’t want it to.
Into Sophomore year, a handful of the guys in my campaigners group stopped coming. A lot of people had reached the party stage of high school. K was one of them and for some reason that aggravated me more than others. This was a dry season both socially and spiritually. I wanted to keep going with my life as a believer, so I stuck close by J during this time. Almost like a lost puppy, I did my best to bring him anything I was struggling with and he was always happy to be there. There weren’t many people going to Young Life around this time either, on a few occasions my sister and I were the only ones there with the leaders.
This was the first few months of Sophomore year. The remainder of Sophomore year carried no importance and was the most boring year of my life. Jake and I continued to grow our relationship in the absence of Campaigners and Young Life events.
And as more change came, my new life was growing along with it.