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Yesterday marked our arrival at the campsite, and with it came that familiar blend of anticipation and joyful chaos. Our combined team was buzzing with excitement, knowing that the rest of the campers would begin rolling in around dinnertime. Until then, we had plenty to keep us busy—unloading gear, sorting supplies, decorating spaces, and preparing our hearts and minds for the guests God would bring through those doors.

Most of us have done this enough times that we slipped into a comfortable rhythm. But this year feels different. Many of the campers are younger, and the social dynamics have shifted noticeably this winter. There’s a hesitancy in some of them, an uncertainty about how to interact or where they fit. That makes our mission all the more important: to meet as many as we can, to learn their names and stories, and to welcome them with the love of Jesus.

Last night’s program centered on the prophecy from Isaiah 9:2—how the great light of Jesus broke into the world on Christmas Day, and how that same light opened a way for us to know God the Father. We had a skit, worship, a gospel presentation, and small-group discussions. And, in true youth camp fashion, plenty of silliness woven throughout.

I gave the presentation last night, and it didn’t go quite as smoothly as I’d hoped. My phone glitched repeatedly, forcing me to reload my notes three different times in the middle of the message. It was frustrating in the moment, but even so, God was clearly at work. One student came up afterward to say he was thankful for the message and was already looking forward to the next one. Moments like that remind me that we’re not here to showcase perfection. We’re here to offer genuine love and concern—and God’s Spirit works through, and often in spite of, our imperfections.

As I write this, it’s not yet 6:30 a.m. on Saturday. The camp is still and quiet. Outside, the landscape is wrapped in darkness, the sun still an hour and a half away from making its appearance. But soon enough, this place will burst to life. At 7:30, we’ll gather for morning devotions. For now, though, I sit with my coffee in the hush of early morning, reflecting on the greatness of our God and the beautiful irony that He delights in using imperfect people to carry out His perfect plan.

I’m praying that He continues the work He began last night in every heart here. This morning, Aiden Carsen will share a devotional on Hope, drawn from his own life story. Today will be full, busy, and probably a little crazy—but in this quiet moment, I rejoice.

Prayer Requests: