Thin Places
Dropping my kids off at camp this week triggered a tidal wave of emotions that caught me by surprise. No, I don’t typically suffer from separation anxiety. I love all three of them to pieces, and would walk to the end of the Earth for them, but all parents know that a little absence really does make the heart grow fonder. And, between you and me, it will do them good to have someone else tell them what to do for a few days, and teach them the same truths I have been teaching them repeatedly, but in a voice they won’t be tempted to gloss over.
This weekend, as I wandered through the unfamiliar trees and sun soaked shoreline I was flooded with memories of the life changing experiences I had in my childhood years and beyond at places just like this.
Every time I have set foot back at Red Rock Bible Camp, it happens. The smell of the cabins, the view of the lake in the early morning with the mist slowly rising along the unbroken surface, the rock faces that I am sure still contain some of my DNA—they all remind me of what God did in my heart there decades ago, and the ways in which he molded and shaped me in those tender formative years. They say that of all the senses, smell is associated with memory more than any other and I can attest to this truth. When I walk the halls and wander the trails, and breathe in the fresh forrest air, it’s as close to a vivd flashback as I’ve ever experienced. What I wasn’t prepared for this weekend, was having those same emotions in a place I’d never been.
I don’t know if you have a place, or places like this in your story—places where God met you and altered the trajectory of your life, but summer camp had an impact on me like none other. I made some of the deepest and longest lasting friendships of my life sitting around those campfires, and sensed God’s calling into full time ministry as I stared up into the stars. It is no exaggeration to say that I am who I am today in part because of those acres along the water in Whiteshell Provincial Park, and the people who pointed me to Jesus in those rustic cabins and noisy dining halls.
The Celts have a phrase for places like this. They call them thin places. Thin places are regions, or moments in time where the veil between the physical world and the spiritual world is thinner than normal. These are places where you can experience God, and hear his voice more clearly than in the rigour and madness of everyday life and they have a profound impact on your story.
Mt. Horeb, where God spoke to Moses from a burning bush was a thin place. The Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus poured his heart out was a thin place. The lonely places along the Sea of Galilee were thin places for our Lord in the early hours of the morning, and were for me as well when I walked in his footsteps years ago. And the plot of granite rock where Red Rock Bible Camp sits was one of the thinnest places I’ve ever experienced. It was a place where the veil between the spiritual world and the physical world was paper thin, and God felt closer than He’s ever been.
Another way to think of these places, is to call them by a more Biblical name: Good Soil. Deep, rich, black Earth. In the parable of the sower Jesus talks about different kinds of ground and how they represent different kinds of hearts. From hard and beaten paths packed by storms and heavy traffic, to shallow or weedy ground. But in my experience there are places that exhibit the same characteristics as the good soil in Jesus’ parable that produced a bumper crop. Places where people are gathered who collectively love and serve God with all they have, and offer you space to set down roots alongside them.
As a parent I have been thinking for years about how to pass my faith on to my kids. I have wondered what I can do to lead them to Jesus, the way that others led me. The answers on the tip of your tongue are likely already correct:
1) Take them to a good church. It’s absolutely essential.
2) Let them see your faith in action, not just hear your words. Some things of faith are caught more than they are taught, and you will find this out as time stretches forward. They will listen more to what you do than what you say.
3) Teach them to pray as soon as they can talk as Susanna Wesley taught her sons.
These are all gold and worth every moment you invest in them. But I believe there is at least one more to add to this list: let them spend time in good soil. Send them to thin places for the weekend or weeks in the summer heat. The Psalmist calls us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” In my experience, this happens in places with good soil more than any other.
We live in a noisy world that has more than lost its way. We live in a place where most of the pictures we see and words we hear are pointing us away from the God who is all around us. In order for our kids to have the strength to stand in the river and walk upstream for the remainder of their lives, they need to spend time in places like this. Places were God can get their attention, and teach them was it means to hear his voice.
Granted these places, and institutions are getting harder to find. There are a number of reasons for the attrition, and a topic for a post at another time, but they do exist. They are out there. There are camps, and youth groups, and weekend retreats where the earth is still black, and the ground heavy with the materials for growth. There are churches that haven’t let the fire go cold. They will take some time to get there, and will costs you a fraction of your energy and resources, but if I can implore you to do anything, it’s this: do whatever it takes to get them there. One encounter with the living God can change the course of your life. One weekend can have eternal ramifications. I feel so passionately about this because it is exactly what happened for me. It was in these thin places I met Jesus. All it takes to start a fire is a single spark. And of that truth, I am living proof.