Campfire & Bible

On the church’s 27 acres, there is a portion that’s ‘wild.’ The entrance of the property, from the stoplight right off the freeway, you’d be greeted by a very green accessible playground, a large Asian pear tree that is beautiful when in bloom, the church building with its tall white pointed steeple, and the green parsonage we live in. On campfire nights, that’s where we start—near home, at the fenced-in park where the green turf protects from the falls of risky play. But at 6:30 sharp (and sometimes graciously after for those who are new and wouldn't know the way) the group of invitees ventures forth down the road from the accessible-friendly park, the familiar house and church building, on past the goat barn and the other parsonages with farm implements scattered about, and into the back field, where this time a path has been cut through the weeds that grow higher than the height of a pre-teen child.

Before entering the back field, though, we get to know each other just enough. A name game and a question to ponder during the walk helps prepare for the activity and the time we’ll spend around the campfire together. One night, the Bible study was on direction and knowing how to get to where we want to go, so we had our new member who had never been to the back woods attempt to find their way to the entrance with only verbal directions (this was before the path was cut through the tall weeds)—he did. As the group waited before the small opening into the shaded forest, it was explained that the only way we know where to get anywhere is because somebody knows the way and helps us to get there, and from there our Bible study time easily led into how with the Bible, we know that following Jesus is the way to heaven. On another night, I pulled up a large weed and brought it to the entrance of the forest, letting the kids know that there are some plants that they may think are harmless or edible but actually are deadly and they need to know the difference (introducing the one of two rules, the ‘ask first’ rule). This led into a bible study about Galatians 6:2, where we reap what we sow, and 3 times when we read ‘God cannot be mocked,’ the sky thundered.

This evening, however, I had set up a surprise in the meeting area clearing inside the forest just across the bridge—a slack line with a blue tarp beneath it. Our question prompt to ponder through the field was ‘what are some of the biggest choices’ we make in life. One of the group shared they had decided their career path. Another shared of the time when they decided to choose a room with their sibling rather than their own. And one shared about their decision to become a Christian. Perfect—that led right into the activity—and after quickly going over the two rules for our new group member, we ducked under the oak leaves and into the shaded fern-covered wild where who knows what would await.

“What is this?!” As the team approached the clearing, the large blue tarp fenced off by sticks needed a suitable ‘story frame’ to ignite imagination. What the group was looking at was, in fact, was a 25’ span of blue tow webbing attached to two large trees. But in Sitckland (the name given to the clearing) this span was a narrow bridge across an ocean surging with invisible sharks that upon falling in, one would be ravishingly consumed. That was enough to inspire some problem solving, and eventually some valiant attempts across, but sadly balancing across on their own proved fatal. No one would make it across without help, and as a team, no one thought to help each other by interlocking hands for stability. If the team couldn’t all get across, they’d lose their chance to enjoy marshmallows at the campfire, and with that as motivation, I introduced the lesson.

“What is something that everybody in this life will have to face?” I asked, adding in, "unless Jesus returns first?"

After a few moments of thought, someone offered the correct answer—"Death."

“Yes. We will all eventually die. Like this slack line, everybody will need to make a choice on how or if we’re going to cross over. Some ignore its existence until they’re forced to cross, and try on their own thinking they can make it if they try hard enough—“ at this point I get on and do my best to cross, but fall into the shark-infested waters—“and only someone who is perfect can make it across.”

“The good news is that Jesus, being born of God and perfect, or sinless, crossed over ahead of us and ‘made a way.’” At this, I go to the far tree and grab the ‘cheater line,’ a smaller line attached 5’ higher, and secure it to the other tree on the entrance side “and anyone who wants can choose to ‘grab ahold’ to help them across.”

Immediately the kids jump up with smiles grabbing the line, now enjoying the balancing act with something to hold onto.

“The choice to grab the support line is like the choice to trust Jesus—we can’t make it to heaven on our own. Some people aren’t even aware that the help is there, which is especially sad.” I explain how to make this choice in real life: that by coming to God in prayer and believing that Jesus went before us, died for our sins, rose and made a way to eternal life and that by trusting and holding on to Him, we can make it across safely.

The rest of the night before the campfire was spent exploring, getting water from the creek, talking or reading some ‘choose your own adventure’ books. Once the fire was started by those who gathered kindling, we reviewed the choice of the rich young ruler, prayed, and enjoyed the s’more and other roastable items laid out on the wood bench. As always, it seems, the two hours goes by too quickly. The fire is doused, the food packed up, and the trek is made back across the bridge, out of the forest, through the back field path and back to the safety and familiarity of the fenced in playground, where parents meet their children playing basketball into the twilight.

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