Des Moines Y Camp

            Yesterday, we as Launch visited the Des Moines Y Camp along the Des Moines River near Fraser, Iowa.  It was first of all quite unlike any camp we have visited yet.  It is along the river, so it has a canoe ramp.  The Dragoon Trail, a series of Iowa roads which follows the Des Moines River, goes right through the camp, dividing it in two.  Along the road leading up to the camp are signs that indicate the driver must slow down, all the way to 10 mph.  When I first drove through there on my way to Boone a few weeks ago, I had no idea what I was running into, but was delighted to see such a beautiful and well-organized camp.  The other unique thing is that it is divided again by the Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad, an old coal line which is now used for tourism, and takes folks on old-fashioned train rides through the beautiful Des Moines River Valley.  The railroad’s Des Moines River bridge is right by the camp.

            I ended up with many questions, but I will mostly share the ones I wrote down.

1.  When was the camp established?

2.  Was it the vision of one man or of a group?

3.  What is the history of the YMCA in Iowa?

4.  Why was this spot chosen for the camp?

            I list all these questions together because they were answered for me in one monologue.  The Boone YMCA was one of the first in the state, but did not join the Des Moines YMCA until recently, and was not involved in the camp.  The camp was founded in 1919.  The YMCA of Greater Des Moines had been looking for a camp for a while, but had hitherto only had access to Camp Foster, near Okoboji, which was a long journey by train in 1912.  They went there several summers, but were looking for a place of their own.  Howard Crawford and George Weber, two leaders of the Des Moines YMCA, went on the Des Moines-Fort Dodge train to see a property along the Des Moines River which was for sale near Fraser, which at the time was a booming mine town of 12,000 people.  They decided not to buy it, but as they were waiting at the station, another man from the area told them that an old dance hall was for sale, which had been quite popular before it was closed by the constable a few years before due to some recent stabbings.  So the two men walked out to the dance hall, and decided to buy it.

5.  What is the biggest change that has come about since you’ve been director?

            My original question was, in the last ten years, but the director, who gave us our tour, had been there twelve, so I extended it.  He said the biggest change was the retention rate.  Their rate at his arrival was 11%, meaning that about one out of ten campers from one summer came back the next summer.  Now it is at 78%, an impressive figure, but softened by the fact that they do some medical specialty camps which are not found elsewhere, such as diabetes camp, kids with cancer camp, siblings of cancer patients camp, and the like.

6.  What do you want your campers to leave with?

            I never actually asked this question, because I considered it sufficiently answered when the director explained, “We’re a seed-planting camp.” I assumed, therefore, that their goal is that the kids leave with the Gospel, so I didn’t ask the question.

            One thing that was very different at the Y Camp versus Hidden Acres is the way the staff are handled.  They have established tracks, set responsibilities, and they are not allowed to help another department unless they are asked to by that department.  This avoids burning them out completely.  They will have up and down times of the year, but that’s understandable.  They aren’t giving their all every week of the year.  Here at Hidden Acres, we experience a lot more “Department-hopping” as I would call it, jumping from one thing to another from week to week, or even hour to hour.  Of course, that is the job of Launch, anyway, so that makes sense.  We have our reasons for the way we do it, but they way they do it, they have much lower staff turnaround. 

            Another idea I found quite exciting was their concept of “Boys will be boys” camp.  This allows boys to act like boys with very few restrictions.  This is not really a concept that Hidden Acres as a whole could implement, but I have been churning through my head ways to implement it, in a controlled way, in my own cabins this summer.  Boys really aren’t allowed to be rowdy in school anymore, they are expected to act like girls.  It’s lame.  So my Rule #3 last year was, “Be rowdy, but not nasty.”  That seemed to work pretty well, but I want to have some more exciting adventures with them this year.

            The thing that I appreciated perhaps the most about them was their sense of history.  They are currently in the process of interviewing old veterans about what the camp used to be like, etc., and have hired an author from Boone to write a camp history book for them, with stories and lore.  I would love to see something like this done at Hidden Acres, and it would be even better to do now for us, because most of the founding fathers of camp are still alive.  I love history, so the sense of their continuation of the path set before them by their forefathers was particularly exciting for me. 

Risk

            When I hear the word, “Risk,” I instantly think of the board game of military conquest, deceit, and strategy.  For some reason, I really enjoy playing this game with friends.  Thankfully, they remain friends when the game is over, despite the backstabbing involved.

            Otherwise, I hate the concept.  Risk is something that I generally avoid, because I like stability and planning.  I was raised in a household that had very little spontaneity when we went on vacation, or really any other time.  The basic framework of everything was well-ordered and well-regulated, which allowed for certain defined liberties in the context of order.  So whatever risks I could take, were limited to ones that had no consequences.  This allowed a really safe environment to grow up in.          

            Still, my aversion to risk is not only a result of my upbringing.  I really don’t like it myself.  I was allowed liberties, but the ones I was given, I barely ventured.  I could have gone on high-adventure scout camping trips, but I chose not to.  When my parents lifted my bedtime and left it to my discretion in Jr. High, I was frightened of such authority in my own hands.  When faced with the possibility of doing something normal or something risky, I so often default to the normal, the standard, the expected, that I must scour my memory for any such occasion when I even remember stoutly refusing to take a risk.  Avoiding it is so natural to me that it doesn’t even leave a blip on the radar. 

            Today, I have been asked to recall a time when I took a risk, another when I avoided one, and the benefits of risk-taking, complete with consequences for each.  To begin, perhaps among the most risky things I have ever done was on Monday, when I went to Ames to witness.  I have had such apparent leadings before, but have always been to terrified to act on them.  I discovered that it is really a lot easier to talk about Jesus than it is to start a conversation.  I talked to two guys, one at a bus stop, and the other in a food court, and both conversations went rather well.  But randomly driving to Ames on my day off to talk to people I don’t know is a rather risky business for me.  All in all, I think it was good, because it was obedience to the Lord.

            On Monday, though, I did avoid possible opportunities.  I could have talked to a store clerk at Casey’s in West Ames (or was it Kum&Go?), or a guy smoking outside a dorm room.  Since I didn’t talk to those people, I spent the time that I otherwise would have talking to them driving or wandering around, looking for other opportunities.  But I found none, so I had to wait until the next one came.  Even though I was in Ames for the purpose of witnessing, I turned down chances to do so.  This was bad as I disobeyed the leading of the Lord.

            Risk-taking in and of itself is of no better value than normalcy.  If a risk is taken out of loving obedience to the Lord, in His will and plan, it is good. But so is normalcy in the same context.  The advantage risk-taking has is that it demands trusting God in the unknown.  This is one thing that normalcy cannot do: bring out trust in God for unknown situations.  Just like some things cannot be developed except through adversity, some things, like obedience and trust, are best and sometimes only developed through risk.  To fear and avoid godly risk is disobedient.  To pursue risk for its own sake is foolhardy.  To seek God and obey Him, whatever the case may be, is what His love incites in us.  

Youth Group

1.  What is the mission of the group you lead?  How will you focus on this mission?

So far as I can tell, the mission is to further the Gospel to students, and to encourage the growth of its strength in their lives.  To do this, I teach, both in front at times, and individually at others.

2.  What distractions do you face as a leader?  How will you focus to block them out?

The chief distraction is to view the students the way the world does, as behavior machines, and thus to be more concerned with how the act than with their eternity.  To avoid this it is necessary to look to Jesus, and see things from His perspective, and know that these students are loved by Him, and that my ministry is not to amend their behavior, but to show Him to them.

3.  What are the blind spots that keep you from reaching your leadership potential?  How will you focus to eliminate or minimize them?

I have limited love for others.  In order to love others, I must look steadfastly to Jesus, for His love is the foundation of mine.

4.  What do you do best?  How will you focus on this strength to maximize your effectiveness as a leader? 

I learn and teach the best.  So it is my duty to learn the truth, and teach the truth to those around me, especially the kids at youth group.  Of course, this truth must necessarily be focused on the Lord.

5.  How will you focus on setting the standard for the people you lead?

My vision is for everyone to know and believe the truth.  I set the standard for this by being totally honest all of the time.  I also have a low threshold of tolerance for any perceived error.  This has gotten me in trouble at times, and I have been far too quick to rebuke in the past, and have always lacked tact.  May the Lord Jesus grant that I may “Speak the truth in love.” –Ephesians 4:15

My Great-Grandfather's Perseverance

            Russell Merry Greenley was born on August 29, 1886, the youngest of seven children born to the Thomas Greenley family of Epworth, Iowa.  His mother died when he was sixteen.  Since he did not get his father’s land, he had to make his own way, so after his marriage to Laura Main of Independence, he moved there and bought a farm with money borrowed from the bank in Rowley.  When the Great Depression hit, banks were allowing farmers to default on their loans, and needed only to write down that they were unable to pay, and they did not have to anymore.  Russell, however, insisted on paying his loan.  He said that since he had borrowed money from them, he would pay back every dime.  And he did.  It took a long time, because things were still hard for him and his family, but he was determined to do what he had promised in paying back the bank.  Many banks closed in the Depression, but Rowley didn’t, in part due to Russell’s insistence on paying.  Perhaps others followed his example, my grandpa didn’t tell me.  He was an honest and very hardworking man, and my grandpa’s stories of him affect even me to this day.

Athanasius-Man of Courage

In the year of our Lord, 316, the Roman Emperor Constantine issued the Edict of Milan, making Christianity the official religion of his empire.  Only the ages hence would reveal the strange difficulties presented by the attempt to make Christianity a national religion.  Sadly, this move on his part was in some ways more political than pious.  He hoped to unite his crumbling empire under the banner of Christ, which is indeed a banner of unity, but the problems presented were grave.  Many new souls were introduced to the church who were still steeped in paganism and not quite willing to give it up.

            In this context, a man named Arius rose up, a presbyter from Alexandria, Egypt.  In 318 he began to teach that Jesus is not fully God, but rather created by God before the beginning of the world, “begotten,” but a lesser being and not actually God Himself.  Alexander, the Bishop of Alexandria at the time, reprimanded him for this false teaching, and eventually he was excommunicated.  This did not stop him, however.  He continued to preach his false and damning message, denying the Deity of Christ, and before too long the entire empire was in an uproar.  Bishop against bishop, man against man, province against province.  Constantine could see that this issue was causing a problem, so he called the first universal synod, a gathering of 318 bishops, to settle the matter.

            Arius attended the council, though he had been excommunicated, to defend his views.  He and his followers drafted a statement which was overwhelmingly rejected by the attending bishops, following which almost all of his followers abandoned him.  Another bishop suggested a second creed as a sort of compromise, which the overwhelming orthodox majority rejected because Arius agreed with it.  Then the orthodox party wrote what we now know as the Nicene Creed, which was a triumph for the doctrine of the Deity of Christ.  Present at this council was Bishop Alexander, with a young deacon, Athanasius, as his assistant.

            The unfavorable ruling of the Council or Synod of Nicea did not stop Arius.  He continued to preach his heresy throughout the empire, and despite the decision of the Council, his doctrine gained popularity.  Over the next several decades, the false doctrine swept through the church, to the point at which Constantine ordered the Bishop of Constantinople to administer communion to Arius, welcoming him back into the fold of the faithful.  The just Bishop would have refused to do so, but Arius died the day before it was to take place. 

            During this time, old Bishop Alexander had been succeeded by Athanasius as Bishop of Alexandria.  The heresy had grown and grown and was finding acceptance in his own flock.  He held that bishopric for 45 years, during which time he was exiled from it five separate times for a total of 17 years.  Throughout all those years he worked, taught, preached, and wrote furiously against the Arian heresy and tirelessly stood up for the truth of the Gospel.  He was not ashamed of Christ or His divinity.  His work, On the Incarnation, spells out the absolute necessity of Christ’s divinity for the truth of the Gospel.  Once he even stood before the Emperor and Arius, surrounded by those who opposed him and the truth, but he stood firm and boldly proclaimed Christ.    The phrase was coined at that time, “Athanasius contra mundum,” meaning, “Athanasius against the world.”  Sometimes he was, sometimes he wasn’t.  But whether the world was for or against him, he was for Christ, and Christ was with him.  His courageous stand for the truth and his faithfulness to the Lord and to his flock is inspiring to me.