t-shirts

I tell people that I could make a timeline of my life out of t-shirts.  There's definite distinction in what stage of my life I was in by my t-shirts.  You could tell a story from the state of a t-shirt: how much it's been through, how many falls it's taken, how many mistaken bleach incidents, etc.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I love stories. 

As part of my job, I have the privilege of going on adventures with students anywhere from birth to college.  Whether to the beach, outside to the playground, or, like this week, to Rome, GA to Darlington School for Summer Camp 2012, there's always a story; and usually a t-shirt.  Summer camp was a week of competition, heat, injuries, and, above all, genuine worship and life-change.  Through battle on the recreation fields, teams learned the spirit of competition.  Off the field, they taught each other, and me, about becoming rooted in the Truth through Jesus Christ, and only through Jesus Christ.  

I have the greatest job in the world.  I am humbled by the opportunity to file my taxes at the end of every year for being paid to be in ministry as a means a living.  What a blessing.  Some say it can be a curse, and at times I would agree.  And then, we have nights like tonight.  

You can tell a story from the state of a t-shirt at camp: whether it's sweaty from your perseverance on the rec field, what team you're on, if you fell off a child's scooter while coming down a hill too quickly.  

Two girls on my team gave their lives to Christ, and displayed it through publicly professing their faith in Jesus Christ through obedience in the waters of Baptism.  Incredible, how Christ can take broken people with "jacked-up" lives, and create a picture of redemption right before our very eyes.  

We sat in an acoustic worship as we watched students be baptized tonight.  In front of me, sat a girl and her boyfriend, both in high school.  The girl was wearing a henley t-shirt.  A step up from a normal t-shirt because she probably wanted to look good for her man.  The boy was in a simple black tee.  Probably the only one he had left sweat-less from the blistering hot week.  Perched beside them was her sister.  Her t-shirt was sopping wet.  

You can tell a story from the state of a t-shirt, and this one has the best story.  She came into our group questioning faith in general, and from the outside of the youth group.  She came with questions, and she came with brokenness.  I watched as my group grew together, sewing seeds in each other's lives, and becoming vulnerable to one another in their struggles.  They weren't afraid to ask for help.  Something I don't always expect out of tough high schoolers.  She listened.  I could tell she was listening. I could tell she was thinking.  Her sister was praying for her.  Her sister was trying to set an example for her.  I could tell she was watching.  And there she stood in front of me.  Holding her sister's hand, praising the Lord, and dripping.  That t-shirt was dripping.  She has a new story, and so does that t-shirt.