On the next to the last worn, wooden pew I sat last night and watched a generation of young women boldly share their struggles and their faith. Years removed from my own camp experiences, I was whisked quickly back to a faded memory of my own summers leading young girls. Only this time it was different. In my experience, camp had always been those mountain top experiences with emotional worship sets and extravagant, powerful messages. However, Last night felt like the very heart of God. Real. Awkward. Truthful. These mighty young women of God stepped up and admitted the sin that plagued them. They were beautiful, vulnerable, passionate. They showed great courage and humility in sharing how they too turn to Godly women for help. Their stories were remarkably ordinary. Yet each one owned her story, no matter how painful, embarrassing or difficult.

Nearly two decades ago, I knew the weight of my own hidden sin, the very things that were burdening my heart and my walk. However, I didn’t know the importance of community. I didn’t see the church as for the broken. then, Sunday was for the prettily put together people, for the picture perfect people. I couldn’t see past the outward appearance. but then again scripture says man looks at the outward appearance but the Lord looks at the heart. That’s where I struggled. The Lord was looking at my heart. He saw the pride, the lust, the control, the deceit. He knew the things that I tried so hard to hide from those closest to me. Yet He called me to be holy as He is holy. Still I ended up on an island – A personal island of guilt and shame, where sin continued to reign because I continued to live under the tyranny of fear. Praise God, He provides freedom for the captives!

Somethings I took away from last night:

• We all have unspoken brokenness, that doesn’t always have to remain unspoken. This is the point of community – to bear one another’s burdens.
• Don’t Boast in sin. Confess it, lay it down, turn to christ, Lean into His church.
• We need one another. Even as an older woman now, I need these Godly young warrior women in my life as well as the older ones too. Because I have need for Christ, I also have need for His Church.

In the wee hours of the morning, as I pointed my headlights toward home, it occurred to me, this wasn’t camp, it was the beginning of a new generation of biblical community in the church. It was Titus 2 playing out in the most ordinary of ways. It was the beginning of freedom for many. And it was refreshment for my parched, weary soul.