"But If Not…"
Musings on strangeness and the providence of God
No matter where you live, it seems like there are always a few local haunts you can’t help but under-appreciate. I don’t just mean a place’s beauty, though we do that too sometimes; I mean a place’s wonderful strangeness.
For example, take Malaga Camp. Originally founded in Newfield, NJ in 1869 as a Methodist camp ground, Malaga Camp today remains as committed to the same requirements of religious community as they did during the 19th century holiness revivals. With well over 100 cottages still maintained on the grounds and streets barely wide enough to accommodate an SUV, walking through the camp today is like walking back through time: back to a world where neighbors knew each other, where everyone pitched in, and children ran rampant without GPS trackers attached to them. When you think about where we are today, it’s remarkable places like this still exist at all.
Except, for me, Malaga Camp has always been just one more semi-regular “spot” in my life. Many of my close friends either grew up there or currently live there, so I’ve been in and out of the camp so often over the years I hardly think about it anymore. It’s not like I stop to consider the rich history of the place when I’m shuttling my kids into the car to rush home in time for bed. It’s what I imagine it’s like living near the leaning Tower of Pisa: struggling to appreciate the splendor of something so odd when it’s ever before you, when it’s just part of the furniture of your life.
I share this because this past weekend, I was asked to preach at the camp. Preaching in general is always a joy for me, especially since I haven’t had the chance to do so in a few years, but I have to say: it was incredibly cool to take the pulpit in a place that has been preaching the Gospel faithfully for over 150 years. Stepping into that old wooden pulpit on stage, I took a moment to marvel at the oddity of my surroundings, but also to appreciate things I so often overlook. I surveyed the room to see familiar faces, along with friends who love me enough to both support me and wrangle their kids at the same time. I saw junior-high summer campers there, ready to be encouraged as they began their camp week. I saw the elderly being wheeled into the tabernacle by family members in faithful reverence and dedication. Malaga Camp may be eccentric, but no matter where you go, the hope and expectation that fills a room ready to hear the Gospel preached is the same. It’s a divine mystery I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand.
I smiled as I took it all in. Then I began.
I’ve included the recording of my sermon at the top of this post if you’d like to give a listen. I spoke about the name Jehovah Jireh, which means “The Lord will provide.” In its own way, even my sermon was about the wonderful strangeness of God’s will. Often He calls us to things we do not understand or expect. We assume that any plan involving us experiencing pain must be God punishing us, or primarily due to our disobedience; rarely do we see purpose in the midst of unhappiness. But as I attempted to flesh out in the message, the provision of God doesn’t mean you always get what you ask for. In fact, the Christian life means first admitting we do not know better than God, then resolving to love God more than we love His money. It’s only then we can accept what comes from His hand is more than enough to provide what we need.
So here’s to the weird and wondrous things that fill our lives each day. Cheers friends.
