God’s Not Dead, Volume 1.

God’s not dead.

I know this, because He created a miracle last week. Actually… He created dozens. But I only have time to talk about one. So here’s how it went down.

It was Girl’s Camp week, which is really a mouse-like name for the sort of astronomical production it really was. Of the 240 campers present, 10 were mine. And to be 100% honest, I wasn’t into it. Did you ever have a time like that? Where you were so distracted and tired, that even one of your very favorite things fail to fill you with energy and vision?

Well, I wasn’t nearly as into Girl’s Camp as I wanted to be, but I did love my little flock of 10. They were precious, and loved to have my FULL attention, and buy candy, and swim in the rain, and clean the cabin at the crack of dawn.

I loved them, but I didn’t have nearly the amount of energy and vision to express it that I wanted to have.

I was tired.

I was even more tired on Wednesday night, after fighting tearful, gut-wrenching homesickness night and day with one of my campers for two days. I was tired because I was sick. I was tired from dashing through the land-mine of Jug-a-lug in hopes to give my team victory, and being the last staff standing in Pyramid Ball.

At Vespers that Wednesday night, the pastor gave a rousing call to repentance, and when I noticed an unnatural stillness sweep over my campers, I was filled with hope. “Maybe! Maybe they are being convicted! Maybe TONIGHT will be the night I finally get a chance to lead someone to salvation!”

Silly me.

I scurried my campers up the hill to our cabin, and streamlined the night’s craft so we could get right to business. That’s when one little sweetie pulled me outside.

“I just have to tell you something,” she said, and there were tears in her big brown eyes. “There was a fight while you were out of the room before vespers, and everyone is still upset.”

Oh, silly Kara. Here you thought they were convicted…. and all the while, they were stewing in their frustrations at what the other person said in a fight. Great.

I hugged the girl, and we went inside.

“So, something happened this evening that I wasn’t a part of, and it really affected you guys. I can see it. You’ve hardly said a word to eachother all night.”

Slowly, the story came out.

Slowly, I understood. And I suddenly knew. Jesus was up to something.

They confessed. They told Jesus how satan had poisoned their hearts with shame.

“I’ve always struggled with thinking I’m ugly. I know it’s not true, but it’s so hard.”

“My friends ignore me when they’re with someone who is ‘cooler’.”

"I've been bullied all the time at school."
“Everyone calls me fat.”

“My freckles are ugly.”

I prayed.

They prayed.

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There were sobs, and shivering, and confession, and a group of sweaty little heads all caring for eachother’s hearts.

Satan was bound, and Jesus took those lies, and tears, and covered them in His blood. In return, He gave joy, value and belief in His love.

“I feel different now. Lighter, like, and really happy!” someone said, and her tear-streaked face shone with joy. That’s when I could tell it was really happening. Transformation. That’s my Jesus in action!

A dead person can’t win a battle.

A dead person can’t transform lies into something beautiful.

A dead person can’t take a weak, tired counselor, and fight the battle for her kiddo’s hearts for her.

My Jesus is alive and well.

 

 

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