April: Youth Camp Diaries

Its Monday. It’s youth camp time! I’m sat in the junior boys home where 50 teens are having an amazing time. Over the 2 and a half day event put on by the church, there will be games, worship, teaching, team challenges, delicious food and lots of sweat. I’m about to go on stage to lead the worship in 2 minutes. It’s an exciting time to be alive. And yet I’m looking out of a window at a coconut tree and trying to stifle tears.

Allow me to write frankly for a moment. Leadership comes with a lonely place to stand. Your team is looking up to you, expecting you to have all the details, to inspire them, to have it all together. But I don’t have the details, I don’t feel inspired, and right now I’m the furthest away from having it all together I’ve ever been in my life. In the past, the bands I’ve lead have been comprised of young adults who practice and turn up on time. My team is a group of wonderful, beautiful teenagers who would rather play football and make noise. And I love them with all my heart. They have enlivened and enlightened my heart. But after 12 weeks, the pressure is bringing me to my knees. In one month the team will be half the size due to various reasons, ranging from the wonderful (going off to college) to the heartbreaking. Getting people onto their correct instruments, getting them on their feet, getting them to arrive on time, and getting them to listen are natural daily tasks leading a team of teens in a hot country. Again let me state my unconditional love for them. They’re wonderful.

So here I am. Staring blankly at this coconut tree, soaked in sweat from the 40 degree heat, feeling small and try to hold back the tsunami of stress and worry. I feel strange prickly sensation on my ankle… a mosquito is mining my lower body for blood. The timing makes me laugh. “What do I do here in this moment” I ask myself. What else is there to do when the ego has been annihilated? I stand up and get on with it. I get on the stage because I was born for this. I pick up my guitar and start singing because there is something bigger going on here than my own life. I direct the band because I believe in them.

It’s a massive push, but I hope and pray that even one life is changed. I know it will be. Tomorrow I’m teaching in a session and there’s another chance for things to be better. I’m feeling the buzz of working from a strength much greater than my own. I’m going to be on it. Tomorrow will be magnificent.

It’s Tuesday. It’s 9am. My lift was late. The acoustic guitar is missing – one boy felt like jamming with it back at the senior boys home. The band were so late that we didn’t have chance to rehearse and when they did turn up, the guitar isn’t with them. The song lyrics need typing into the laptop for the screen. I’ve also just been asked to lead the kids in morning focus/devotionals. As I hear the pressure cooker screaming in my head, that ego-less voice prompts me once again to serve. It’s why I’m here, no matter how hard it is to do. So, after seeing to all the needs, I get into the circle of teens and try to improvise some calm and reflective devotionals. Then I get up with the band and lead worship on the guitar that has thankfully turned up, with lyrics now ready to go. I get on and do it. After the morning session, just as I’m trying to find a corner to crawl up in, one of the younger boys – Dutta – approaches me, clasps my hand firmly and says “Will, in all the band, you shine”. Dutta didn’t know about my struggles and it was neither a comment about others in the band (all of whom really ‘shine’) nor a comment about my sweaty bald head, but such perfect words spoken with such perfect timing that he will never know their effect.

The evening session comes around and our guest speaker – a happy, centred man called David Sushil Raj – is doing something special. The kids are laid out on the floor and relaxing piano music is playing. I’m sat with the adults/leaders around the back wall. As the kids lie down with eyes closed, David is speaking about God’s love for them, unconcerned whether they fall asleep or not. After around 15 minutes one of the kids in front of me starts crying, like something bad is leaving her. Others in the room will later tell about experiences and visions they had, one of whom was asleep when he experienced it. After praying for each of the 50 kids, David comes over to me and asks me if I could play a particular song. I’d never heard of it, so he suggests another song… which I’d also didn’t know. After the embarrassing encounter, he passes a forgiving look and begins to walk back, but then steps back to me, puts his hand on my shoulder and begins to speak. He tells me that God sees what I’m doing here in India and that he’s proud that I’ve given up everything I know to do it, that I’ve already started a dramatic change in the lives of these kids. As he looks into my eyes and speaks simple encouragement to me, I feel the tremendous pain leaving and my eyes start welling up with tears. He embraces me as he continues to speak encouragement.

At the end of his session he asks me and three others to the front and tells the kids to line up in front of us for a hug. I stood there completely humbled as I saw that my line was teeming with the senior boys with whom I work. One by one, these mostly-fatherless boys come up to me and receive a big hug as I speak encouragement to them and tell them I’m here for them if they ever want to talk. Some of them begin to cry and don’t let go of me until the tears stop. These boys don’t receive much physical affection and so it’s amazing that I, after growing up without a father myself, should be chosen to be the one to give it to them. One of the greatest honours of my life.

Wednesday is here! Monday’s mosquito bite has shown itself to actually be 11 – all on my ankle. One of the speakers, a wonderful man called Biby Sam with whom I had had great conversations with, has left. The band are on point! They truly blow me away as they stand up for almost the whole morning, singing, playing, improvising their way through another one of David’s sessions. It’s a tiring morning but I’m a very good and memorable way.

After a delicious meal thanks to Vernon’s team, all the leaders hug, take final selfies and say goodbye. My bag is full of 7 days of dirty laundry and a soon-to-be smelly laptop. What I take back to my apartment though is more than just possessions but a focus and a peace that I didn’t have prior to camp.

I’d like to say a massive thank you to Martin and Beena for putting on this incredible event. Their constant spirit of love and their heart for these kids surpasses anything I’ve known. I can only imagine what my own mother went through to raise two teenage boys after the death of her husband. I owe a massive debt of gratitude to her which I surely can never repay. Martin and Beena soon have a holiday coming up and they deserve every second of it for how much they sacrifice day after day after day. I love them dearly.

Side notes:

• Graphic story alert. A couple of weeks ago I left a towel out to dry on my balcony railing overnight. When I showered the next morning I went to get the towel and immediately started drying myself. A few seconds go by and I start to feel prickly sensations around my… secret place. There were 4 or 5 ants down there, stinging me. I shook the towel and out fell 30-40 ants. Ice packs were applied generously and thoughtfully.
• Massive thanks to Joe and Betsy Matthew and their girls for organising and running a fantastic camp. They do this for a living and their professionalism and heart was evident in everything.
• Thanks to everyone who is supporting me financially. Every penny is going further than you imagine x