The Gift of Goodness
I’m convinced some seasons are meant to be a gift of pure goodness.
Right now I’m living in one of those seasons. I feel the Father pouring out His love on me in big and small ways: namely, through the gift of spending the whole summer at camp where my days are marked not by productivity, but by how well I love people. It’s a gift to rest not in the work I do each day, but the work that God is doing in me. The best thing I have to offer as the worship coordinator isn’t any musical talent, but my ability to listen to people, and ultimately to the Lord. And boy is He speaking!
I hear God’s goodness in the sound of hundreds of young people singing praise to the One who is worthy of it all. I hear Him speaking goodness over me in prayer, reminding me He always has more to give from His unending abundance of steadfast love. I hear His goodness in scripture which proclaims “The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord” (Psalm 33:5).
My indicator of being emotionally healthy and well rested is the how often I pause to notice the beauty of creation—particularly subtle changes in the light as it is reflected on the lake. I’m practicing “marvel moments” where I simply say “wow” as I stand in awe of beauty and feel my heart come alive.
I’m enjoying the gift of living in a thin space where God’s presence is tangible in a way I’ve experienced in very few other places. It feels easier to trust Him here when our days are oriented around experiencing God in creation, worship, and prayer. Camp isn’t just a fun escape from reality; it’s sacred time where both campers and staff come one way and leave another because they met Jesus in the middle. I know God does His best work in the transformation of human hearts, but I am blown away by the beauty and surprise of the transformation every time.
I’m in a season of rest where I am accepting the invitation to pause: to spend afternoons reading and praying by the lake, or simply taking a nap. I usually have trouble believing that rest is productive, but sure enough, after five weeks of moving at a slower pace than I’ve kept in years, I am starting to taste the fruit of slowness. I feel alive. I have capacity to think about how to serve and bless others, and it’s a joy to do so! I can delight in mundane, repetitive tasks that would have felt like too much in my previous season.
I cherish nights of eating ice cream on the boat dock with close friends, game nights that go late into the night and end with star-tipping and uncontrollable laughter, leading worship with new friends from across the globe, and so many spontaneous conversations where I get to delight in the uniqueness of God’s people. People at camp live with open hearts: every staff member is here because of a call from the Lord. They may not know why exactly they are here—I sure don’t have an answer for myself—but we delight to be called, and we delight to share our stories.
It’s impossible to record all the stories that have already been told this summer, which are currently unfolding, and those which together will create the full testimony of God’s faithfulness to us here at HoneyRock. Even if I recorded a portion of them, I can’t quite articulate what it feels like to belong in this community and to partner in God’s work of transformation in this particular place and time. Sacred work is being done here in the hearts of God’s people, from the youngest camper to the college counselor to the professional staff member who has decades of proof that God meets us in this place.
Friends, I feel unworthy to be living in this season of goodness, but that’s the point. We don’t deserve it, but God delights to give His heart and His love in abundance. I celebrate the goodness I see, hear, and notice around me, and am choosing to believe it’s not too good to be true. Once I see my life as stuck under the waterfall of God’s goodness, I have a better vantage point to see the goodness in the lives of my friends and family as well. My season of rest and change happens to align with God's movement in the lives of my friends and family as well: prayers are being answered that have laid dormant for years. Hearts are softening, chains are breaking, and God is providing the growth.
There are still walls I’m waiting to see fall in several areas of life, and God’s goodness doesn’t negate the hard days or the need to lament. But I’m learning lament and gratitude go hand in hand: we celebrate where we see growth, we lament where we see decay, and we rejoice because decay fertilizes the ground for new growth. I can testify that even in seasons of waiting, and maybe especially in seasons of waiting, God is GOOD and life with him is sweet. I am confident that you will also “taste and see that the Lord is good” to YOU (Psalm 34:8).