Pilgrim of Worship 2: Camp Songs

Stage 2: Camp Songs - I found food at camp. My relentless hunger for worship passed through a little camp in northern Minnesota and I found a surprise oasis of nourishment. Flaming Pine Youth Camp saved my life.

We didn't sing from the big red books. No, no, no, no, no, no - we sang from the "song sheets," and the thin orange and baby blue paperback "Rejoice" song books. We chose the songs. We sang the songs. Kids ruled. We didn't sing in a church building, we sang in a lodge, at the lake shore, in our cabins. Worship didn't merely happen on Sunday - it was EVERY! SINGLE! DAY!

"It only takes a spark..."
"I love you Lord, and I lift my voice..."
"Give me oil in my lamp..."
"Have you seen Jesus my Lord?" sob sob

Somehow, the music was alive. We sang and we sang loud. It didn't matter if someone was a terrible singer. I was personally liberated to voice my worship completely, despite that fact that I couldn't carry a tune in a wheelbarrow.

I envied the people who could carry a tune. They got to lead the worship. I wanted to lead it so badly, but I knew I was out of my area to do so.

One night while sleeping on my bunk in one of the cabins, I had an amazing dream. I stood at the end of the dock at the beach. In my dream it was midnight and I was the only one awake. I stood at the end of the dock in the blackness of the night over the black water. There was no moon and no stars. How I even found my way to the dock I do not know. I must have just appeared there. The only sound was the occasional lap of the water on the sandy shore. Otherwise, the lake was glass.

There was a tension, an eager anticipation that hung in the air - like when the lights go down at a Broadway musical, but the music hasn't started yet. Something was about to happen.

Then somehow I knew what to do. I began to sing. It was a song I had never heard before and to this day cannot remember. It was beautiful and in four part harmony (Pretty good for a guy who can't carry a tune). The music that came from my lips not only sounded beautiful, but it looked beautiful. Each part of the harmony was a color in a rainbow that rose from my mouth. The four bands of color - red, yellow, blue and orange - that emerged from my mouth shone with radiance and rose slowly up to Heaven like smoke in an imperceptibly light wind.

When the glowing rainbow of worship finally made its way up to Heaven, the blackness of the sky could no longer hold back the presence of the angels. Millions of angels cluttered the sky in candle white light and joined me in my song. They looked to me as their worship leader and worshiped with limitless gladness. These angels looked to me with eager anticipation as to where the song would go next. What would next line say? What would the next note be? Just how would this mortal worship God next? Each line and note rang more beautiful and true than the one prior.

The voices of the angels filled in every bit of silence in the universe. There was no room for anything else but the collective voices of the angels. Darkness could no longer be dark, silence could not longer be silent, and it was impossible to be lonely in such company. I was not afraid. In fact, never before and never since have I felt more in my place.

The song was never sung before and would never be sung again for it was the expression of my heart in a unique moment of time. For this song to be sung again would be counterfeit and cheap. It was a song meant to be sung only once.

When the last note was sung, I closed my mouth and the rainbow filtered up into the sky and slowly dissipated. The echo of the angels reverberated over the lake and throughout the forest like pounding thunder - until it was gone. Then it was black again, and silent, save the warm breeze that moved my hair, just a little.

I had accomplished worship.