Youth Sunday

Kristen May
February 26, 2006

A personal transfiguration is often called a Testimonial. There is a pattern many of these follow: the fall at the beginning where the individual is lost, followed by the tide-turning event that eventually brings them back. And when someone is giving a testimonial, there is always that knowing that they must have come back to God, or they wouldn’t be telling their story.

And so here I am, standing in front of you, my name is there in the bulletin, check it if you want to, and it tells you that I am going to tell you about Personal Transformation. When I first sat down to write this I was not very burdened. Personal Transfiguration, how hard could that be to write and speak about? Ha. As many of you know, I have been up here before, talking about Women in the Bible, Gays in our congregation and other topics that I realize now, are a whole lot easier to pursue than Transfiguration. Now I had to ask myself something. Do I really know God? Did I truly think I was certain enough about my faith to preach about to an entire, eager congregation? Well, I’m still standing here, right? If I told you a story, maybe you could better understand my uncertainty and my own transfigurations.

Camp Glenkirk was, up until a year ago, a small Presbyterian camp tucked away in one of the last remaining forests of Northern Virginia where many young people had found God. One of the most powerful testimonials I have ever heard came from a counselor at that camp about walking the labyrinth at camp and hearing God speak to him for the first time. And indeed the counselors were what made Glenkirk such a special place. Their energy and obvious love of the work were inspiring to many kids who kept coming back every summer. To me the place and the people were what kept me going all year long. When the going was tough during the school year, I had only to tell myself that I would soon be back at camp again. That last year before the camp had to relocate after the land was sold for housing developments, I had one of my most inspiring team of counselors. Ben, whom I had known casually for a few years before, bonded with me over our love of the camp and our distress at it being torn down. Ingrid, the other counselor, was from South Africa and we called her Inkie, which she found amusing because “inkie” means “little duck” in Afrikaans. She was one of the most faithful and uplifting people I have ever met, and she told me repeatedly during the ten days I spent at camp that summer that she knew, for the first time in her life, that God wanted her to come to this camp to meet all these great people.

But camp soon ended and I found myself a bit empty. The camp was being moved, though, so I clung to the thought that there would be new hope at the new site. But I was informed in late spring of last year that the permits had not gone through in time and that camp would not be ready for the summer. My heart sank as I waded through life without the yearly dose of rest and reassurance I had been getting for eight long years. And I faltered and felt lost. I continued to email Inkie, however, and her long notes were full of a passion that at least made me smile. Then I got a particularly amazing email from her. My interests were peaked at one of the first lines: “For the second time in my life I knew that there was no other place God wanted me to be!” it exclaimed. She described a job she got in a Christian bookstore and the friends she made both on staff and among the regular customers. And then she told me about one man who was in the store one day that she could not stop looking at. “I was about to move towards him,” she wrote, “when another customer asked me something. When I turned back he was standing right next to me. But Kristen, I had to take a step back, like something was pushing me. I was immediately shivering and my heart was pounding. He asked me if I believed in what I did. I said yes. Then he asked if my faith “worked” for me. I told him yes. With that he nodded and walked out of the shop. For the first time in my life God told me if I let that guy walk out the shop he would be lost. By the time I reached the door, I could barely make out the guy’s back as he was walking away. All I could pray was that God would bring him back. I was scared because I had no idea what I was going to say or even what was going on but I knew it would be a miracle if the guy did turn around. When I looked again, he was walking back. He saw me standing there and came straight for me. So I asked him what he believed – when I finally found my voice! I have never seen any person so broken. He told me a little about his life and I shuddered. He told me that when he left here he was going to get drunk and then he was going to kill himself, and what would I do to stop him? I told him that there was nothing I could do, but I felt like God was not finished with him yet, so I didn’t think he would be successful. I knew what I had felt was right: God was not finished with him yet! I have no idea how long we stood outside the shop but when he turned to leave I suddenly had the urge to ask his name. This took him by surprise. When he told me, I said: “Hi, I’m Ingrid.” He turned back and said “I’ll see you again, Ingrid” I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant heaven or next week. But I prayed those last words of his over and over. I went through the whole weekend not knowing if this guy had taken his life or not. I knew I would probably never know what happened to the guy and that I must just trust God that His will was done, when he walked into the shop again! My first words to him were: “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” He was smiling and I could see a difference! God was not finished with him yet!”

Wow. As you might imagine, I re read this passage over multiple times before it sank in. I then realized that I needed to get on with my life. Camp was still very special to me, but God was working outside Glenkirk all the time and I was almost ashamed that I was sitting here moping when some of my biggest role models were carrying on like this.

So there it is. My faith and its continuing journey. Like Peter in the gospel story that was read, I’ve been looking for a physical place for my faith. Peter wanted to make a shelter for these prophets he saw before him, and I wanted to house my faith in this wonderful place I had found. It’s difficult for me to accept that this place where I found God is no longer available to me, particularly after hearing just the other day that the permits for the new site have not gone through for this summer either, the first summer that I could have been a counselor, but I hope to move on. The transfiguration may be slow, but at least I’ve been put on the right track.