One of my most significant failures within my first few years as a pastor was my attempt to start a weekly youth group. Parents were asking for it, and so I tried all sorts of things: Morning Bible studies at Bojangles, after church lunches at various brunch spots, Sunday night movie gatherings, pool parties, cookie baking, service projects, and more.
We never managed to gain enough momentum to reach the critical mass needed for a successful group to form. Kids had excuses. “I can’t come tonight, baseball practice.” “I’ve got an exam tomorrow.” “I’m just exhausted from Prom last night.” Some held more credibility than others, but to me, an excuse was an excuse, and I grew frustrated.
My last-ditch effort was an attempt to sign up as many High School youth as I could for one week at Montreat Youth Conference. As a cradle Presbyterian, Montreat was my mecca. It was a Holy place, where thousands of kids came every summer to play, disconnect, and reconnect with God and one another. I went four years in High School and can safely say I was greatly impacted by my days there.
No one knew what they were getting into, but like a snake oil salesman I convinced them to say yes. I was hoping for a half dozen registrants. I got twenty.
After a week of worship, games, keynotes, hiking, late-night brownie making, devotionals, dance parties, swimming hole searching, and more, all crammed into a hundred-year-old lodge, we left Montreat as a group from different schools who knew, loved, and cared for each other. We had formed the community that we all so desperately craved.
I realized in that moment that one week every summer is far more powerful than an hour weekly at Youth Group.
Short-term, intentional time away from the pressures and distractions of the world is the greatest gift we can give our young people. In a world where they are overstimulated, overmedicated, overscheduled, and over monitored, Camp (and Montreat) creates an atmosphere of simplicity, of silliness, and of joy. All of which breed the most essential fruits: friendships, confidence, and growth.
Your daughter(s) have been gone for nearly a week. For some of them, it might’ve felt like the longest week of their lives; for most, I imagine, it flew by quicker than they could say “Illahee Swirl Please” at Dolly’s Ice Cream counter. For all of them, though, they will return to you a different version of themselves. They will come home with new friends, new feelings, and hopefully a new outlook on the world that reminds them just how amazing this life can be.
I say this because it happens to me every summer. I change. I make friends. I make decisions, and mistakes. I fail. I learn, and I eventually grow.
Communities at their best are places of mutual transformation. They are arenas where we can all let down our walls for long enough that the authentic goodness and power of this world and one another can affect us positively. That is my dream for Illahee. It’s why I love this job. Amid the ups and downs of a long 12-week summer, I am encouraged by the 1100 girls who came here this summer, and the thousands more who still, decades later, remember this place and the power that it had on their lives.
It’s easy to see the change in the attitude of a malleable junior camper, who, 5 days ago, was petrified of the swim lake and just today flew off the Tarzan a dozen times. Or in the camper who cried herself to sleep on night one, counting down the days until her parents would pick her up from this “terrible place,” who just today was in the middle of a kickball game with a massive smile on her face. Change happens. I see it now at the end of our summer season, and I know I’ll see it next weekend when 350 alumni show up for our 105th reunion.
This change is not without its growing pains. There are tears, conflicts, and fears, but ultimately, it is the camper who chooses to face these challenges and opportunities head-on with joy and strength who embodies the spirit of our motto, to “Be a Great Girl.”
As we wrap up our 105th summer, Gardner and I feel immense gratitude for the continued opportunity to serve as stewards of this place. We’re thankful for the trust you give us in committing your daughters to this experience, and we’re excited for the future of camp and all the goodness that will surely be seen and known at Illahee.
Although we don’t get to see your daughters often during the year, a week or two, or three, or four, is all we need.
Cheers to the summer of 2025!
Lucas