Camp Recap

I was well into my post-camp report when my computer froze and I lost it. That makes me very angry. I'm taking it as a sign to be lazy about this, and maybe do some quick cut and paste from an email I sent (under normal circumstances, this is a strict no-no) and generally do a shoddy job. Enjoy.
My week went about the way I expected it to. Could have been better, could have been worse. I only had to do cabin devos 3 times, and I just kept it to the topics I could speak confidently on, mainly that living the way the Bible tells us to is a good idea. The camp is a really conservative, really Gospel-focused place, so I heard the gospel about 3 or 4 times a day, often in a fairly high-pressure manner, which I really disliked (though I actually enjoyed it last year). The main trial for me this week was just keeping my patience, never getting angry with my 7 10-year-olds who didn't do what I told them to. But I did quite well.
I think often I really want to see something dramatic happen. I want to bring things to some kind of climax where I force God to either reveal himself to me or leave me alone, but he always seems to diffuse these situations, defeating my attempts at drama and finality in the most mundane possible way. I really dislike casual spirituality, and I want to become either hot or cold, but I can't seem to achieve that.
Ok, that's enough cut and paste. I'll try to pull up my socks. I'll tell you about one of my experiences from the past week.
The speaker (for whom I have a lot of respect) came up to my table and asked one of my boys if he was a Christian. The boy said he was - his Mom said so. Apparently, she'd prayed the Prayer with him when he was 2 or 3. I could see the preacher wasn't too happy about that - maybe he thought a 2 year old doesn't have the reasoning abilities to make that decision. He encouraged the kid to consider praying again, "just in case". The boy agreed. I focused on my peas and tried not to show my distaste. The preacher said "Why don't you pray with your counselor?" The boy agreed. I put down my fork, forced a smile and consented to lead this boy to salvation. The preacher left, the boy folded his hands, and I had him repeat a few lines after me. I watched him closely. When the prayer was done, he picked up his fork and continued eating. No change was visible in his countenance or his behavior. It made me think - this kid's mom sat him down and made a Christian out of him when he was 2 years old, so that she'd feel good about her son being "saved". Now he's 10 and we've got him here at our Bible Camp, and we Cristianize him again so we can feel good about our camper being saved. We do this all the time. We give them the gospel three times a day, we ram this down their throats, we'll do anything to get these kids to agree with us. And what chance does a 10 year old kid have against a charismatic preacher, the perception that everyone around them is a doing this, the camp atmosphere? I listen to all these sermons and think "ya, but..." a dozen times. A 10 year old can't do that. A 2 year old praying the Prayer with his Mom isn't choosing Jesus - can a 10 year old sift through all these assertions and make an educated decision? (Can anyone?)
Hm, where do I go from here? I'm listening to Evanescence right now. I could say something like this:

now I will tell you what I've done for you
50 thousand tears I've cried
screaming deceiving and bleeding for you
and you still won't hear me
don't want your hand this time I'll save myself
maybe I'll wake up for once
not tormented daily defeated by you
just when I thought I'd reached the bottom
I'm dying again

But that's not really fair. I long for drama. I want to be really close to God, but if I can't, I'll try to be really far away. I hate this emotionlessness that so often rules me. I want you to feel something powerful when you read this. I want to see fear in your eyes when you talk to me. I want to feel pain.

I feel like water running down. Mingled and entwined in my heart are the desires to scream and destroy and the desires to love and give. Love not for the loving, but for the passion and yearning and hurting. Give not for the giving, but for the emptying, the bleeding, the loss. I wish I could play the piano like a demon. I'm full of a gentle fury, and if I was a wicked pianist I could scream and pound and whisper, bleeding my dark soul through my fingertips in a symphony of beautiful cold noise.

That's an excerpt from my Journal from April. I think it captures quite well this dark mood that I often assume. (I'm not too sure where the piano stuff came from, except that I've always wanted to be an incredible pianist - just not enough to devote my life to becoming one. Don't tell my Mom, she'll say I shouldn't have quit my lessons. It's not like that.)
Ok, wow. I don't know what I'm talking about any more. Maybe what I need most is the ability to be content with an average life, and average faith, average feelings and an average relationship with God. Weird, in some ways I'm so lacking in motivation, so content with just doing the easy thing, but in other areas, I'd rather ruin myself than accept mediocrity. I've convinced myself that my relationship with God is all that matters, and I will not compromise that. Maybe (I doubt you'll agree with me) I just need to come to grips with being lukewarm. Bla, I don't like this entry. I don't like these feelings. I'm going to go pack for camp.