Have you ever had a dream so powerful or so important that it stuck with you long after waking?  Most dreams start to fade the instant that the alarm sounds or the baby cries, but on rare occasions we can have dreams that linger; dreams that we fight to keep alive in our memories.  Sometimes we fight to hang on to these dreams because they offer hope or joy or memories of a loved one who is gone.  We can turn the memories of the dream over and over in our minds so much that it almost becomes a real memory.  Almost.  Because deep down we know that it was not a real experience.  As real as the dream may feel, it was still only a dream. And we know it.

This weekend (Aug. 2017) I have the overwhelming experience of stepping foot into my most important dream from nearly twenty years ago.  As I write this, I’m sitting at a weather-faded picnic table just outside the dining hall at Camp Grow.  Camp Grow is a church camp located on Green Lake in Wisconsin.  This weekend is a gathering of camp alums titled “One Last Hurrah” because the future of this camp is uncertain.  This camp has existed as a church camp since the 1960’s and was a boy scout camp prior.  But the church association that owns the property is putting it up for sale and so the future for the camp is, at this point, unwritten.

For many of the alums gathered here this weekend, Camp Grow is a place full of memories from their childhood.  They’ve come to remember the events and activities of their youth. They’ve come to connect with friends from long ago.  They’ve come to say goodbye to this place that was an important place for them.  There is a sense of hope and expectation that God will do something to keep Camp open next year, but that hope is kept in check by the reality that it will take a hefty sum of money to make that a reality.

But for me it’s a bit different.  I was never a camper here. I wasn’t a member of the churches that sent their youth here.  I was introduced to Camp Grow through an invitation to be a counselor for one week in the summer of 1995 which followed my freshman year in high school.  I was a bit overwhelmed by the task of leading a cabin of 9 kids.  But memories were made and I left thinking it was a good experience.

The following summer, when I returned for a few weeks, everything was different for me.  My father had just passed away less than two months prior.  My life was a mess.  I was a mess.  The realities of home overwhelmed me as a 16 year old.  And so coming to camp was a way to hit pause on reality and enter into a place that was completely disconnected from home.  I honestly have almost no memories of that year, but I know I spent several weeks at camp.  I think I was just numb and glad to be not confronted by the reality of grief, confusion, and fear that I experienced at home.  That year was the first time I experienced camp as a dream.  For a few weeks that summer I was able to suspend reality, take a 3 hour bus ride, and just dream for a few weeks.  And then after another bus ride, I awoke at home, confronted by everything the same as when I had left.

The following year I was invited to be a counselor and work maintenance at Camp Grow for the entire summer.  Now a year removed from my father’s passing, there was a new normal at home.  My relationships outside of home were no longer shaped by the sudden passing of my father.  For a while after he passed, everyone approached me knowing that I had experienced a loss.  But a year later, most people had moved beyond that.  And I’m grateful for that.  But home had not recovered that quickly.  My dad was the strength of the family;  we all depended upon him so much, and his passing didn’t just cause grief, but knocked down every foundation of our lives.  And so, a year later, we were still working through life without dad.  And it was messy.
That year, instead of a bus ride, I drove my purple 1993 Ford Ranger up to camp.  But the same thing happened for me.  I suspended the reality of life and entered into a dream that was Camp Grow.  That summer at camp only lasted a few months, but it created what feels like a lifetime of memories; memories that shaped me.

One such memory was while I was working maintenance.  My job was to start the campfires each night.  I usually hung around to make sure it took off enough for a good campfire for the campers to sing their songs and do their devotions.  One night I was standing in the dark about 50 feet away from the circle of campers and the camp pastor for the week was preaching to the campers.  He was talking about how God had plans for their lives. And then he pointed everyone’s attention to me standing in the dark at a distance.  We had never met; never had a conversation.  He didn’t know me.  But he called out to the campers that God was going to use me as a shepherd for his people.  Now kids in youth group at home had told me I should be a pastor, but I always shrugged it off.  But here was this pastor, speaking with confidence and authority that he knew God was going to do great things with me.

Things like that don’t happen in real life; not that I had experienced.  I remembered that moment the first time I stood behind a pulpit to preach. I remembered that moment when I changed my major to Religious Studies during my freshman year at Olivet because I finally understood a call to ministry myself.  I remember that moment when I baptized my first believer.  But in those moments, that memory came to me, not like a real experience, but as a memory of a dream.  I had to remind myself and really try to convince myself that it was a real memory.  But I’m not sure I really believed it. It felt too surreal.  It was definitely a dream

During that same summer, there was an extended period of rain that culminated in a huge storm.  This was the type storm that was dangerous to the campers and staff.  The trail to boat house, which was the camp’s storm shelter was normally a steep, but accessible path. But days of rain had turned it into a slippery and treacherous slope.  When the word went out that we needed to take shelter, I grabbed two other guys, we ran to the barn, picked up as much rope as we could find and started tying them to the trees along the trail to the boat house to give the campers something to hold onto as they walked the muddy trail. The counselors gathered the kids and we helped everyone get down the trail to safety. We stayed in the boat house for quite some time singing campfire songs while the storm thundered and blew outside. 

I remember that moment because it was one of the first times after my dad’s passing where I felt like I knew what I was supposed to be doing.  I didn’t have doubt or fear or worry about what others might say.  I wasn’t confused at what my role was supposed to be, nor was I overwhelmed by expectations that exceeded my ability.  There was a situation, I knew what needed done, and I did it.  People thanked me for that after the storm passed.  They used words like “leadership” and “dependable”.  Those were things that I dearly wanted to be, but in reality, at home, I definitely didn’t feel dependable or a leader.  At home, I seemed to disappoint, live in confusion, or struggle to follow the lead of others.

This is another memory from Camp Grow that I have recalled from time to time.  It reminded me of a hope that I could be more than I was. I had this memory of a time where I was someone people wanted to trust, to follow; someone who brought assurance and comfort in a crazy time.   And I wanted to be that person more than anything.  That’s how I remember my dad and I wanted to be just like him.  But again, this memory was created during the time where I had hit pause on reality.  I was a 17 year old kid.  I was irresponsible, confused, and unreliable.  That was reality for me.  So this memory of the storm was remembered like a dream.  When I told people about it, I felt like I was telling someone about a movie I saw or a book I read, and not something I had experienced.

During this summer I made new friends.  Because I didn’t come from a church that sends their kids to this camp, nor was I a local resident near the camp (the two main groups of attenders) almost everyone was a stranger to me.  My cousins attended the camp as campers so every once in a while, they would be spending a week at camp. But overall, I knew no one starting out this year.  And I know for most people camp was the place where they went to connect and hang out with old friends so the idea of being a stranger to everyone sounds pretty terrible, but for me it was ideal.  It helped keep reality paused and the dream-like existence of camp in place for me.  I had camp people and home people.  So, the weekend that my mom came up to visit was overwhelming for me.  Truly overwhelming.  And while I was glad to see my mom, I didn’t know how to keep reality from creeping into my dream. I didn’t want to bring home here.  I acted pretty foolish and have regrets related to how I approached those too worlds colliding.  But after a while my mom left for home and that tension was resolved.  Back to dreaming at camp again.

These friendships defined my summer at camp.  I was the oldest of the teen staff and had my own vehicle, so I was pretty popular on weekends.  At home, I was the awkward kid that didn’t know who I was or who I was supposed to be. At camp, I had a group of friends that didn’t know much about me and just took me as I was.  Some of my favorite memories of Camp were a result of these friendships. I made some close friends that could have continued as friends after camp was over for the summer, but in my head, camp wasn’t real.  This was all a dream; reality was at home.  And the two worlds couldn’t collide.

The summer wound down and I went home with all kinds of memories that I filed away in a special place.  I really didn’t talk about camp much when I got home.  And I came back the next year for a few weeks, and the same the year after that.  And camp was always that suspension of reality; hitting pause for a few weeks each summer to check out of life while I closed my eyes and dreamed for a minute.

My sophomore year in college I had a job and other responsibilities at home for the summer.  There was new leadership at the camp so I had lost my connection there.  I was dealing with some personal and spiritual struggles of my own, and so I didn’t think much about Camp that year.  I acknowledged that it was going on without me, but camp was a dream for me and I was dealing with reality.  The next summer went by and I didn’t even give camp a thought.  Career and family were the new reality at home, and I wasn’t looking to escape.  Every now and then I’d see a photo from camp or talk to my cousins who were still attending camp regularly. I would remember the dreams that I had during the summers of my high school years. I would recall how I felt safe. I remember how I felt like everything was right with the world and right with me at Camp, but that was all just a dream.  That wasn’t reality.  And so, I would never dwell on it.

The last time I was at camp grow was July of 1999.  The more time that passed by the more dream-like my memories would become.  As time passed Camp Grow became less a real place to me and more of a place that existed in my mind.  And then recently through the magic of Facebook I found out that this could be the last year for Camp Grow.  At first this didn’t register as a huge deal to me because dreams are just in my head anyways.  But when it was announced that there was going to be this “last hurrah” weekend, I was compelled to go.  I tried to talk myself out of it.  What a silly idea.  I’m not connected with anyone there, no one will probably remember me, family life is busy, church life is busy, I’m needed at home, etc.  But while I was sharing some Facebook photos of camp with my wife, she insisted that I go.  I think she could tell what camp meant to me even if I wasn’t able to put it in words.  So, I signed up.

I arrived last night after dark.  I parked my car, popped the trunk and grabbed my bags.  Before I could even look up I heard people singing at campfire.  I could hear the sound of cabin doors slamming on their frames.  I could hear the waves of Green Lake gently reaching shore.  I was immediately overwhelmed.  I almost started crying.  (I’m on the verge of tears while writing this now).  I know this will sound ridiculous, but I realized for the first time in my life that this place was real. This place where I found peace, love, encouragement actually existed.  This camp where people prayed with me and for me, where God called me into ministry thru the voice of a stranger, where I watched a good friend get baptized, where I sat and talked with a camper who had lost a parent at home while they were camping, was real.  It all was real.  All of it!

As I walked to my cabin to drop off my gear prior to heading to campfire, I heard the gravel under my feet and remembered walking this same path as a 17 year old.  I remembered that I had come to this camp a broken, struggling, and confused kid, and left with a hope of becoming the man God wanted me to be. I realized as I walked to my cabin that Camp Grow wasn’t a dream.  Rather, Camp Grow gave me a dream of who I could be.  It offered me a vision of myself not as I was in “reality” but as who I could be.   While the world could be a hard and demanding place, Camp Grow was a place where lost kids could be safe.  It was a place where the love of God and the love of neighbors was lived out. And it was real.

We live in a world where hope is dismissed as wishful thinking.  We live in a world where peace is an ambitious ideal, but not really something to be realized.  We are shaped to believe that we are alone and will only ever be as good as our failures allow us to be.  But Camp Grow exists!  It is a witness to the Kingdom of God in the World.  There really is a place where brokenness is healed, where love of God is the foundation for relationships.

My time at Camp Grow was not a dream.  It was not wishful thinking about how live could be.  NO!  Camp Grow is a real place.  I experienced it. It was so different than what I had known that I almost missed it.  But being back here nearly twenty years later, and immediately being confronted with the reality today that matches exactly with my memories made me remember that they weren’t dreams or fantasies.  The reality that I was confronted with last night and today matched perfectly to my memories from years ago.  I hadn’t imagined it.

I want to tell you about this place called Camp Grow, whose motto was “Finding God’s Purpose For My Life”.  There is this place in Wisconsin on Green Lake where kids, teens, and adults come every year. They come every year because this place is special.  And they come because this place makes them feel special.  Sure, for some, it’s a place to have some fun while school is out.  But as I think back to what camp was for me as a young man, I can’t help think that there had to be others that had tough situations at home.   I realize now that Camp Grow wasn’t my dream.  It was all our dreams, made real.  There are probably hundreds of people that think back to their time at camp as one of the most significant and meaningful times in their lives.

And so, this weekend called “One Last Hurrah” is one in which we are probably saying goodbye to that dream.  I sit here grieving the loss of this dream.  My life will go on whether camp is open or not. Others have invested WAY more than I have in this place.  But I realize I’m not grieving my loss as much as I am grieving our loss.  Camp Grow is more than the sum of its parts.  It’s a place where hopes and dreams of countless people over generations have created a place that functions as a light in a dark world and a place that teaches us to hope for what could be.

I am forever grateful for those who came before me and had the dream that was Camp Grow, originating with the man the camp is named after, Fred A. Grow.   I am grateful for my time where I was invited to experience and share in this dream.  And as the clock moves us towards the end, all of us Camp Grow Alum still have this dream we call Camp Grow.  We are holding out hope that someone new will see the vision and catch the dream.  We are preparing to say goodbyes at the same time that we are expecting someone with resources to see the value of the dream that is Camp Grow. We wait for them to say that this dream is worth investing in, keeping it alive for future generations.  Some will say that camping is an activity of an era gone by. I sit here today overwhelmed with the idea that if there were more places like Camp Grow, we’d all be better off.  Camp Grow reminds us that the chaos and busyness of life is not all that there is. God calls us to rest and enjoy, to withdraw and be still, to gather and share. And for decades, Camp Grow has been the place where that was happening.  If this is truly the last year for Camp Grow, I pray that we all find other places for us to create the dream that is Camp Grow.  But for now, this “Last Hurrah weekend” we’re just dreaming the dream one more time, hoping the next time we wake up, there will be another chance for us to dream.

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