Nearly 30 years ago <ahem>, I had just begun Jr. High. Going to a whole new school was both scary and exciting, but I soon made two new friends – Carolyn and Michelle – so exciting won out. After a school year of paling around together, sharing secrets on the bus, goofing around at dances and birthdays, and giggling all night at slumber parties, they each invited me to go to summer camp with them – two different camps. I had never been to a sleep away camp before and was eager to give it a try. Especially with my new best buds.
The only thing was – they both were Christian summer camps, and my mother was extremely anti-organized-religion. (I remember my grandmother being horrified at my complete lack of knowledge about the “true meaning” behind Easter that year. But I digress.) I think my single-mother liked the idea of having a couple of weeks to herself more than she was willing to hang on to her prejudices, so she eventually relented and agreed to let me go. The religion thing hadn’t been an “issue” thus far, and it was still summer camp after all…
The first camp was with Carolyn. I can’t even remember the name of it any more, but I remember it was pretty generic. There were crafts, sports, games, camp fires, silly songs in the cafeteria, and late night whispers in bunk beds – just like you’d expect. The only thing remotely religious about the camp was maybe the “God’s eye” craft, and that every day there would be a scheduled half-hour session to attend, where they would discuss various topics. Like “Creation vs. Evolution – Can Both Be Right?” Like “Who Was Jesus, Anyhow?” Like “Old vs. New Testament – What’s The Difference?” But they were very open-minded discussions, very progressive if you will. I got home at the end of the week in a great mood and excited for the next camp.
Little did I know that Michelle’s camp – Pine Lake – would be a little… different. Yes, there were all the traditional camp classics: archery, hot dogs, and swimming – oh, my! But. There was also praying. And some not-at-all-“progressive” talks. And… Bible memorization. You were to pick some scripture from the given list, memorize it, recite it to your group leader, and then they would discuss it with you. You were expected to get through the whole list by the end of the camp (there were a couple of pages if I recall). And, yeah. For somebody who had never even touched a Bible before, it was a little, er… overwhelming. I remember doing a lot of shoulder shrugging and mumbling whenever my turn came around.
And then. At the last campfire, everyone was invited to stand up and share their accepting of Jesus as their savior. No, you didn’t have to, but wow, the pressure to was intense. I remember wanting soooo much to be accepted. Plus, here was a big group of people who all believed the same thing so strongly, I had a hard time figuring how could they be wrong. But. I also couldn’t believe that everyone I loved – who weren’t Christian, but who were good people – would burn in Hell for not believing in God the way these people did. I remember sitting there struggling, staring at the fire with tears burning my eyes. I never did stand up.
When I got home from camp I was sullen and withdrawn. I tried reading some of the book I had been given at camp (“If God Loves Me, Why Can’t I Get My Locker Open?”), but it didn’t help much. After a couple of days, my mom had had more than enough and demanded to know what exactly had happened at camp. In a flurry of tears, I told her of my struggle… and she laughed in relief. “Oh, is that all?” She then proceeded to point out that a multitude of religions exist in the world, and she suggested that before I spent too much time deciding whether or not I should become a card-carrying Christian, that perhaps I should check them out as well. This made a lot of sense to me, and over the years, it’s exactly what I’ve done. It was probably one of the few good pieces of advice she’s ever given me. But again, I digress. 
