Nostalgic

It’s hard not to get nostalgic as I sit at the airport in Oklahoma city after a fruitful 24 hours at a youth camp.

The smells haven’t changed. The boys are still cute, the girls still put way too much hair product in. Grant it, there are a few more Justin Bieber hair cuts, but the essence is the same. Girls trying to attract boys, and boys flexing their muscles.  The inevitable class clown is there, and so is the nerd. Over in the corner is an overweight girl, unsure what to do with herself. My heart aches for her.

Of course the star power has increased. If you’re carrying a guitar you’ve got to be somebody. Your swagger proves it. The designer jeans just confirm it. I wish I played the guitar.

The food still stinks. The temperatures are soaring, and the sweet smell of sweat invades the nostrils, but somehow it works. The tone is set – you’re gonna have a life changing moment and you’d better be ready for it.

The room is loud. Suddenly the lights dim, and the music begins to pump. Some stage lights are turned on, and you feel you’re going somewhere. You feel you are somewhere. Everyone’s into the music. That’s not like it used to be in my day when we just thought the songs boring, but I get in the spirit of things and raise my hands in worship.

Then the man with the handicap gets up to preach. And the rest is history. Moments hang in time. The rest of the world disappears while God deals with his children.

And  when the invitation is given, is it any wonder that half the room responds?

Some decisions will last until the kids get on the bus home.

Other decisions will last a lifetime.

Mine did. And as I pour out my heart to the women, they can tell. My life is being poured out somewhere along the way as well.

I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I’m crazy in love with Jesus.

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