I'm finally beginning to process some of my thoughts from the three nights I spent in Ngaruawahia at IGNITE 2014, the national youth camp of the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand (WMCNZ). This might take a few blog posts because my attention span is completely shot, so bear with me.
As I continue reflecting on the weekend away at camp, two vivid images come to mind continually.
The first is of the first full day of team challenges. My team, the Blue Smurfs, was pit against the Orange Tigers. There were several formidable opponents in the Orange Tigers, but the one that I remember best is probably a young man by the name of Mikaele. We had several one-on-one run-ins during game time. I knew there was no way my old, achy body would out-run his buff Island warrior build, but I had to give it my best shot anyway.
But it was later on during the camp when I saw him on stage with his youth group in their Fijian traditional dresses that really left a distinct impression. How many other young men do I know who will get their game on as hard core as Mikaele did on the field as they are on a stage singing a worship song, complete with dance moves, looking like they actually want to be on stage getting into worship? Not that many.
The other is of the final rally on the last day of camp. The camp speakers, Rob Reynolds and Frank Ritchie, from TEAR fund gave an "altar call" of sorts. Instead of the usual "Come to Jesus" altar calls, the youth were invited to respond to playing their part in the missio Dei (again, theologically profound--but that will be for a later post). As they walked up to the front, they were greeted by their youth pastors/leaders who would pray with them individually.
During that time of response, I had the privilege of standing beside the youth leader of some of the girls I've had significant conversations with over the weekend of camp. And as each one of them came up, tears overwhelmed as I remembered again why I was a part of this kingdom work--something I thought had been buried deep in the memory boxes of yesteryear.
God is still at work, even as I struggle with my sense of call. And for that, I'm thankful.
Malo Sisu
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