Before a summer camp last year, I was very uneasy. The leadership group of teens and adults had come in a day early to make sure everything was ready for the campers’ arrival. But my spirit was restless and I sensed that, while we had done everything to be physically ready, we had not truly prepared ourselves to be spiritually ready. 

I wasn’t even ready myself…so rather than trying to force something artificial during this scheduled time of worship – as if the Spirit of God were something we could tame – I simply owned this fact and invited to group to be honest about who we were in that moment.

To the side I had placed a loaf of bread and a chalice, and I was prepared to wait all day until something broke free before I hurried to let that sacred ritual bail us out.

After I spoke, I sat down. The silence was deafening. I had invited them to share, not spend some time in silence. Doubts began to creep in, forcing me to reevaluate my plans, but something inside of me screamed out to wait.

And wait…

And wait…

After about 15 minutes of nothing, an adult leader opened the floodgates. She could no longer hold back the tears and pain within her heart and soul. She shared about abuse and healing…about pain and redemption…about doubt and transformation…about God helping her to move out of the shell of unworthiness to embrace her beauty and identity as one loved by God. She said that she was a butterfly, about to spread her wings.

And then, seemingly on cue, a butterfly landed on our communion bread. And we all knew it was time…

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