This weekend was the Grace Community Fellowship Men’s Retreat. We gathered in the mountains at Camp Tadmoor. My interest in the retreat was normal for me. The day it was announced at church, my wife asked if I wanted to go. To me, it was a no-brainer. We had just started coming to the church in September (around 6 months ago). I wanted to meet other men from the church and have a great, no sleep weekend. I have been involved with men’s ministries in the past, and I wanted to hang out with the men of Grace.
As I left that Friday afternoon, I said goodbye to my wife and kids and drove off to a destination marked with anticipation and renewal. Up the mountain I drove. Climbing. Twisting. Turning. A beautiful view looking down on ol’ Sweet Home, Oregon. And finally…there it was. The stop sign marking the right turn heading me into camp. But the street name was not correct. I had taken a wrong turn. Or, as the case may be, I went straight rather than turning. For whatever reason, further down the mountain, I was supposed to have taken a hard left to continue on the same road. Heading straight actually put you suddenly on a new road…a wrong road. I was not the only one who got lost that night.
Through a little fog and what seemed an endless road, I entered into the camp, called my wife, and went inside the warm dining hall. What a feast it was. We had wonderful gals from church cooking for us this weekend and the food was top notch the entire weekend. After settling in, eating, and chatting a bit, we wandered our way into the chapel for our first night together.
The speaker was introduced, and Ernie Mathes began. I had no clue who he was, except he had gone to Grace a few years back. I really had no expectations. At this point, I can fully describe all of Ernie’s messages but I don’t think it can do the weekend justice. In fact, when thinking of how to tell my wife about the weekend, I decided the appropriate answer was, “I can’t really explain it. We’ll just have to see my change.”
You see, it wasn’t a weekend of what was said, but one of what was done. Yes, the messages were incredible. Yes, we had some wonderfully, rich times of worship. In the end, it was the Holy Spirit who inspired the weekend, leaving men in a broken, softened state ready to receive the Spirit’s individual message. There were tears flowing and changed lives occurring. By Sunday morning, there were men standing, sitting, and kneeling during worship. Not because Jon (worship leader) told us to, but because each man worshipped God in his own unique way.
For me, the Holy Spirit is still revealing to me what He wanted me to learn and what changes I need to make. He is also renewing my direction in ministry. As I am out of town this week, by myself, I look forward to having some time to pray and meditate over this last weekend.
Lake at Camp Tadmoor
There is no way to fully explain the experience this weekend. It was a truly amazing time. I saw men worshipping, men removing their facades, men broken before a Holy God. I pray we keep it burning strong as we come down the mountain.
(The picture above was taken at the camp while we had some free time on Saturday. I went walking around and I think this is my favorite picture of the day.)
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