One of my first church trips was an adventure out to some nearby woods where we had an old-fashioned night of camping under the stars.
We enjoyed deliciously burnt hotdogs and marshmallows, and we concluded our feast with a brief devotion about living without fear. We then spent the rest of the night inducing as much fear as possible through the telling of ghost stories.
Surprisingly, ghost stories are highly effective tools of mental anguish. There's something about sitting around a campfire and hearing stories about a creepy old woman who dies after swallowing her false teeth that is unnerving to a young man. It certainly created a lot of chatter in the tent afterwards. Every sound we heard in the thick darkness was believed to be her spirit coming to suck the life out of us.
The ghostly stories weren't the only source of chattering. The night air proved to be quite chilly as the evening progressed and by daylight, I was hoping for a visit from a friendly bear, just for the additional body heat. Of course, I preferred the bear to be vegan.
Once I survived the cold night, two other fascinating facts came to light. First, I discovered that the word "sunrise" is an actual thing, rather than a metaphor or something. Not being a morning person, seeing the sunrise was just a reminder that I needed three more hours of sleep and an electric blanket.
Next, I learned that adults were even stranger than I had imagined. Our fearless leader gave us black coffee as our morning beverage, rather than Dr. Pepper. I understand this today, but as a youngster, it was a bit of a stretch. The before-God-awakens brew had a bitter bite to it that made me certain that even the coffee thought it was too early to be up.
Once I returned to the happy confines of home, where a soft bed and indoor plumbing welcomed me back, I swore off camping for a few decades. After becoming a youth pastor, the camping bed bugs came calling again. This time around, things were sure to go better, since I was in charge, or so I foolishly thought. Armed with extra blankets and a requirement that the kids sleep until 10 a.m., I was all set.
Little did I know, the kids were also well prepared. Several of them put up the tents, conveniently, forgetting to inform me that my tent and sleeping bag was strategically placed over a small branch. Even the "My Pillow" guy could not have secured a good night's sleep with this arrangement. I awoke well before 10 a.m. and even the black coffee brewing outside our tent was smelling good.
It seems the late hours always holds a few surprises for me. Shortly after I was married, my wife and I awoke to the sound of a stranger beating incessantly on our door around 3 a.m. Normally, this would have provoked a healthy dose of fear in me, but then I remembered that my wife had a black belt in some form of oriental-self defense methods that would surely be a joy to behold in action.
I jumped to my feet and started the popcorn for the spectacle that was soon to come. As I gently shoved my wife towards the front door, awaiting a Chuck Norris-like kick to the chest of the unsuspecting villain outside, my wife hands me a rifle and proceeds to hide behind my small and suddenly nervous frame.
Luckily for the young man at my door, the police arrived before we had to take any protective measures. Despite the images you see on TV these days, the police were gentle with the poor guy who was strung out on drugs and had no idea where he was. Though disappointed that I didn't get to see my wife throw down with her lethal hands and feet, I did enjoy the popcorn.
As I was recalling all of these things that went "bump in the night," one of my beloved hens brought things into perspective for me. There was a quick and rapid beating at my back door that sounded like a kid practicing on the drums. My family rushed to the door, only to discover that there was fresh feathers scattered near the porch and our beloved hen was missing.
After a brief search, she was located. Other than being shaken up and a few feathers lighter, she was fine. I suspect a chicken hawk or fox took a shot at her, but soon realized she was out of their weight class. This "big mama" likes to eat. She enjoys the equivalent of three Big Macs every day, and that's just for breakfast.
Here's the thing for us. Life can be scary, uncomfortable and downright dangerous at times. Like my big bird, there's some weight behind us that acts as a fortress against the assaults of the darkest night. Whatever comes, remember that you're just a somewhat intelligent sheep who has a good Shepherd.
The Lord sits above the plains and valleys of your life and He sees what's coming well in advance. He knows your ghosts, discomforts and fears. He wields his staff with black-belt accuracy to crush the plans of your enemy, even the plans that seem to be working. Perhaps we should imitate a preacher I've read of from around the turn of the century, who awoke one night to what appeared to him as a demon glaring over him. The wise old servant just chuckled, saying, "Oh, it's just you," and he went back to his peaceful sleep. I wished I had been there because I would have shared my popcorn with that guy. That was a great fight.