What a weekend!
I didn’t know what to expect when over 350 alumni showed up to Illahee for a weekend of joy, but it far and away exceeded my expectations. Our 105th reunion was a smashing success. We had women who first came to camp in the 1930’s all the way up to women who were some of our counselors this past summer. The years may separate us, but the bonds built in this place are what I have realized, tie us all together. Good times were had, good memories were made, and even better stories were told.
Thanks to all the amazing alumni who made the journey. This place feels more whole with you all here.
On Sunday morning I helped lead worship alongside a dozen Illahee girls. I’ve attached the sermon as I feel it captures the spirit of the weekend.
See you in five years Alum!
-Lucas
Old Testament Scripture: Exodus 24: 9-18
New Testament Scripture: Matthew 17: 1-9
Sermon: A tale of Three Mountains
People have always climbed mountains. They have packed their backpacks, duffels, and even trunks. They’ve left the comforts of their lives, the Air Conditioning, the home-cooked meals, and the friends and family they love to take a step outward and upward in the hopes of encountering something extraordinary.
Whether it’s Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzin Norgay atop Everest, Moses on Sinai, or Jesus and his tight buddies on Mount Tabor, mountains are meant to be climbed.
The fool might think that the real goal is making your mark, reaching the apex, bragging about how many times you’ve climbed it, and boasting to what they have conquered.
But the wise know, what we all know, that mountaintop experiences are nothing without the new perspective and attitude that we learn along the way. Mountains change us.
For Moses, that mountain was Sinai. A rocky outcrop in the desert, he climbed over and over again, into the unknown to know a frightening God who made promises that even he struggled to comprehend. He was a frightened leader, looking for answers. He came back with confidence, with courage, with laws for his people, and with the call to lead forward into the wilderness.
For Peter, James, and John, it was Mount Tabor, a grassy hill, just west of the Sea of Galilee, where they, although friends with Jesus, saw a side of him that none expected. And after this experience, they took another step in the messy adventure of discipleship. They grew, they were challenged, and they were inspired to continue in ministry.
But for you all, the mountain is, has been, and will always be these Illahee hills. These 150 acres tucked into the oldest mountains in the world, filled with cabins, some better than others (looking at you 11 and 12). There are refreshing lakes, squeaky carts, and more lost and found water bottles than you could imagine. But it is when these ordinary hills fill up with these ordinary people, doing some of the most ordinary things, that something extraordinary happens.
Camp happens.
I once heard that “God must’ve loved ordinary people, because he sure made a lot of them. But every day, ordinary people do extraordinary things.”
I see it all summer. You remember it.
You remember the first hug you received from a counselor who truly saw you, loved you, and cared for you.
You remember the first learned skill, whether it was a bullseye in archery, a successful climb up the rock wall, or the roll of a kayak.
You remember the first time you made it through a session without wetting the bed.
Or the AirBand your cabin did that totally should’ve won, but it didn’t.
You remember the falling creek dance, the late-night dining hall raid, the wedgy from the streak, the twisted ankle at capture the flag, the tears on final night, the time you dropped your entire cabins clean laundry in the mud, but they forgave you.
You remember the late-night conversation with a new bunkmate who just so happened to be in your wedding.
You remember these ordinary moments. You remember them with ordinary people. But you realize that in this place, when we are up on this mountain, exposed, away from a world of fear and anxiety, something extraordinary happens. We are changed for the better. It’s the power of camp, it’s the power of connection, and the power of letting our guards down for long enough that the Holy Spirit moves in and around us while we dance, sing, play, and adventure in God’s wild creation.
Although the apostle Peter was never an Illahee girl himself, he knows what it’s like to not want to leave a place. He says “ Lord it is good for us to be here.” I imagine if we allowed it, which to be clear, we aren’t, you all would be here for another few weeks. Peter even attempts to build dwellings so that they can remain atop the mountain, soaking in all the glory and goodness. But Jesus knows what all mountain climbers do, that you cannot stay at the summit forever.
This is captured beautifully in a quote from French Novelist René Doumal. He writes:
“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”
There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up.
It’s a rather wordy way of saying “Be a Great Girl.”
These scriptures present a tension in how we, as modern Christians, understand God. We believe in an omnipotent God, one who exists everywhere, whose face is seen all around, in the rustling of the grass, the feeling of the wind, and the smile of a friend. Yet we also learn from scripture and many of us know from experience that there are certain places in which the presence of God manifests itself in a way more easily felt, seen, and heard.
Everyone here can attest to the power that camp has had on them. The friendships gained, the skills learned, the confidence realized. I say it purely out of observation, but it’s hard to be a teenage girl. It’s a time full of choices, critique, comparison, and pressure, and yet camp has, does, and will continue to be a place where kids can be kids, loved like the children of God that they are.
I like to imagine Peter, James, and John returning to Tabor many years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. Climbing atop the mountain, a 6-pack in hand, maybe a few camp chairs. Taking a seat, looking out on this beautiful world, and taking a second to reflect. Reflect on this man who was Jesus. Remember the crazy stories that didn’t even make it to scripture. The “remember whens.., or the “I cannot believe we got out of that one.”
I like to think that their time on that mountain made them closer. That it better equipped them to serve one another with strength and love. To carry one another when the burdens of life show up, when we are forced, as we all are at some point, to walk through the darkest valley.
Because the great irony of camp is that we all must go home. Camp is not forever. Jesus sends his crew down to be ministers. Moses descends the mountain to lead his people through the wilderness.
And we return from this place just as over a thousand girls did this summer, recharged, renewed, and restored to a more joyful and authentic versions of ourselves. And we’re prepared to encounter a world that desperately needs more light.
As much as this weekend was for you, I challenge you to reflect on what makes this place special and take that with you.
Meg Smith, many years ago at COVID camp, my first experience at Illahee, made a wish I still think about to this day. She said something along the lines of, “It doesn’t matter where you are, it’s who you are, and who you surround yourself with that matters.”
Be your camp self when you return home from this mountain.
Surround yourself with people like your camp friends.
The world needs communities like camp.
The world needs people like Illahee campers.
But some of us are more literal, need tighter guidelines.
Moses returned with something more tangible than all those good feelings.
He had tablets. He held the Ten Commandments. And so, I thought, it would be fitting to end as we come down this mountain with the ten commandments of Illahee, as I determined them at 12:15 this morning.
Thou shalt never covet thy neighbor’s bowl of Sunday rolls
Thou shalt try thy hardest to win at Capture the Flag
Thou shalt never spoil the themes for final night and surprise day
Thou shalt forget about the “Diet Table” ever existing at Camp Illahee.
Thou shalt sing loudly with joy, even if you cannot sing well at all
Thou shalt always apologize to leadership when arriving late for meals
Thou shalt always look to the margins, to welcome the new campers who are overwhelmed.
Thou shalt not care what others think while you dance, play, and have the time of your life.
Thou shalt always be open to making new friends while keeping the old
Thou shall take the spirit of Illahee, of love, of friendship, and of joy with you, wherever you go.
Thanks be to God,
Amen
