Amanda Coppedge, Young Adult Author

Excerpt

We crucified Jesus on Wednesday night.

We did this every summer at Victory Christian Camp. The counselors lined us up next to the pool and led us down to the nature trail. Candles in paper bags lit our path and mostly saved us from tripping over tree roots. We stopped along the way to watch counselors dressed in bathrobes re-enact the last few days of Jesus's life. Two picnic tables shoved together set the scene for the Last Supper. As the man playing Jesus prayed at Gethsemane, his disciples sprawled on the ground behind him. One of them wore white tube socks under his sandals.

Pine needles and mummified palm fronds crunched under our feet as the counselors guided us. The thirty-nine lashes were impressive this year. Someone hid behind a tree and cracked a belt every time the fake cat-o-nine-tails hit Jesus's back. As usual, they really counted all thirty-nine aloud, making us suffer through two full minutes of hammy acting. After Jesus flinched his last flinch and let out his thirty-ninth groan of pain, he fell to the ground and rolled over so we could all see the red lipliner welts drawn on his back.

When we finally reached the cross, a lot of the girls started crying. I tried to pay attention to Jesus's face but I mostly looked at his feet. He stood on a platform nailed to the base of the cross, but it was a little too narrow. As his persecutors jammed the crown of thorns on his head and held up the sponge soaked in vinegar, he constantly shifted his feet from side to side and walked his heels backwards, trying not to slip.

A few counselors in bathrobes snuck up behind us. Most of the campers jumped when one of them shouted "Crucify him!" I didn't jump. They did this every year. It was supposed to make us realize that even though we weren't alive when Jesus was crucified, our sins made us just as responsible for his death.

After we left the empty tomb behind, we walked to the large central campfire where we always had our evening prayers. The counselors used the old-fashioned word "vespers," which always sounded like an old-lady disease to me. I got the vespahs somethin' turrible, honey. We sat on wooden benches, staring at the flames and thinking. Some people sat a little apart from others, hands folded in their laps, shoulders hunched. Others clumped up, put arms around each others' shoulders and let tears flow without trying to wipe them away. One girl stood facing a counselor with her face buried in her hands. He placed one hand on top of her head and raised the other in the air, screwing his eyes shut as he prayed fervently.

"Julie, do you want me to pray with you?" a counselor whispered, crouching beside me for a moment.

"I'm okay," I said, shaking my head.

"You sure?" she asked, staring at my face.

I tried to smile. "Yeah. Thanks." I wouldn’t even know where to begin, I thought as she put her hand on another camper’s shoulder.

Last summer when I was fifteen, I felt overwhelmed by the presence of God when I sat around this campfire. I felt like I could singlehandedly stop wars and feed all starving children. The feeling never lasted once camp ended; I knew that from experience. There’s something about sitting around a campfire at night and praying and singing that you can’t experience inside church with the sun shining in through the windows. But I had felt it every summer camp session before and I could always recall it whenever I was worried or stressed or doubtful. I could close my eyes and imagine the popping of pine needles in the fire and the moon overhead and the quiet strumming of the guitar and it was like God was right there with me again for a brief moment, reassuring me that He was bigger than anything that troubled me.

One of the counselors, still in his Judas costume, picked up a guitar and strummed a few chords as softly as possible. A few people sang along: "We will glorify the King of Kings. We will glorify the Lamb. We will glorify the King of Kings who is the great I Am."

I didn’t feel it this summer. The fire was just a fire. The stars were just stars. The reenactment of Jesus’s crucifixion was just counselors in bathrobes. I was surrounded by people who obviously felt God right there beside them. But to me, He felt very, very far away.

 

Resources

Recommended Reading

• “Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature” by Robin Brande
• “Hush” by Eishes Chayil
• “What Would Emma Do?” by Eileen Cook
• “Say the Word” by Jeannine Garsee
• “Nothing Pink” by Mark Hardy
• “Pure” by Terry Elan McVoy
• “Freak Show” by James St. James
• “The God Box” by Alex Sanchez
• “Blankets” by Craig Thompson
• “Unwind” by Neal Shusterman
• “Marcelo in the Real World” by Francisco X. Stork
• “Once Was Lost” by Sara Zarr
• “Donut Days” by Lara Zielin

Recommended Viewing

• “Camp Out”
• “Jesus Camp”
• “Saved”

Recommended Websites

• Gay Church
  An Affirming Gay Christian Site. Contains a state-by-state listing of individual churches which are welcoming to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
• Metropolitan Community Churches
  This denomination was created specifically to be welcoming, inclusive and affirmative to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
• The Naming Project
  A Christian youth group and summer camp which supports people of all sexual identities and gender orientations.
• The United Church of Christ
  Many churches of this denomination consider themselves “Open and Affirming,” welcoming and supportive to all regardless of sexual orientation.
• Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations
  Note: not to be confused with the Unity Church. Unitarian Universalism is NOT a Christian denomination; the Unity Church is. UUs are supportive of any and all spiritual paths from Christianity to agnosticism, Buddhism to paganism. UUs are also supportive and accepting of all regardless of sexual orientation.

Recommended Music