Kevin returns to talk about some of his latest reads! Including one of Tom’s favorite books, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller, which inspires you to live a life worth reading about. Tom and Kevin also talk about the magic of camp once again, early morning prayer gatherings at this year’s YOBBERS retreat, and a shared love for hoodies – sleeveless or otherwise.
I'm not one to call out miraculous. And I didn't grow up thinking that miracles happen. I wondered how to handle this gift, this grace when my teammates were in the hospital and even needed surgery? The answer wasn't obvious then. The emotions and lack of understanding come back swiftly when I think back on that weekend.
When we entered into some prayer over the camp and weekend, I felt a tightening within me. Walking the grounds and praying alone, I felt connected in a strange, yet familiar way to God. Something unexpected, something more was in store for me this weekend. Arrivals of the attendees brought all the joy and low-level chaos that accompanies forty brothers from across the country uniting for a weekend. Would I be able to reconnect with brothers I hadn't spoken to in months? How would I manage all the people I'd be meeting for the first time? What about the guys I found attractive? Would I even have the energy for this weekend?
Tom welcomes back Kevin into the proverbial podcast studio for the first time in YEARS! They discuss his recent departure from the Jewel of the Blue Ridge, and then they talk about camp the whole episode. Going to camp. Growing at camp. Working at camp. Even kids who used to go to our camps who now work at camp. They linger on this question: would we ever work (or go to?) camp again?!
Well, 2020 happened. And in this "unprecedented" year, a more personal disease revealed itself in me. Like Nouwen wrote, despite my being around people during a pandemic, I faced loneliness. My tendency to isolate combined with an actual, physical inability to connect with others made me look deeper into the why of my loneliness.
Twice within the span of a year, my passion and my future was taken from me. The future I strove for changed without my permission. The ways I influenced and encouraged others – stolen.
While I often complain about a lack of community, I also keep people at a distance. Only during this socially distant time of coronavirus have I realized something: maybe my community felt lacking because I wanted it to solve all my problems. And finding a community that felt authentic, one where I could be vulnerable, couldn't exist because I wasn't connected with Jesus.
I usually head to porn when I'm stressed, anxious, confused, tired. My counselor once asked me if I go to porn to feel power, to be in control. My first response was no — I don't feel powerful at all when I seek out porn. I feel weak and helpless. But maybe there is a control aspect to my porn usage.
One night, I had a sexual dream about one of the male cabin leaders. I didn't want my past to ruin the summer and my connections with the other male staff. On several previous occasions, telling my story had helped me break down some of the awkwardness I felt. So, I grabbed the cabin leader supervisor and shared my story with him.
"God has placed us together for a specific reason — that the times, stories, and experiences we share are beneficial for each other," she said. This led to discussion about how community requires vulnerability. Even with a wide open invitation, I remained a silent listener in the community.