It took four days and seven messages, but they finally got it. Tonight was one heck of a night. I don’t know if it was the “Last Night of Camp Syndrome” or what, but a lightbulb came on for some of the kids. For others, they decided to quit acting like their problems didn’t matter and face them head on. I don’t think I’ve cried so much in forever. Seeing teenagers broken and raw, aching for God. This is why I do what I do.

I witnessed one of my best kids, my rock, my go-to guy lose it tonight because he can no longer go on pretending that life is great and he can handle what life throws at him. It kills me to see what he is going through.

I saw another kid finally understand and come to terms with his faith. The switch came on, and he sobbed for an hour with this realization. He got it. It makes sense.

Others found their voice. Their purpose. Their passion.

It is safe to say that the kids I left with won’t be the kids I return with. They’ll look the same. Slightly redder. But they will be considerably different on the inside. My prayers have been answered. And yours, too.

My new prayer is that it not fade in the weeks after camp, but continue to burn inside of them. That they take the burden that God has placed in their hearts and put hands and feet and a voice to it. That they not be ordinary any longer.

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