About two weeks ago, I went to summer camp at my old church in Washington state. The two weeks leading up to it were probably some of the most nerve-wracking weeks of my life. This might sound dramatic, but let’s read some of the things I told myself:

Before I asked my parents if I could go: if they say no, I don’t know how I’ll handle it, watching everyone else go without me like everything is normal. WHAT IF THEY SAY NO?! But they can’t say no—but they might. Oh, God, please don’t let them say no. But let me have peace if they say no. But they can’t say no—please don’t let them say no. I need this.

As I asked my parents if I could go: I really need this, I miss everybody and I need a spiritual rejuvenation and I need time away from all the crazy at home and I want too see my small group leaders and talk with them.

When my parents said yes: OH MY GOSH. They said yes. But they couldn’t have said no—oh my gosh, what would I have done if they said no?! But they didn’t—WAIT. I’m going to summer camp. I’m. going. to. SUMMER CAMP.

After my parents said yes: wait. What if this is too much for me? What if seeing everyone is too hard and then I’m just broken when I have to say goodbye all over again? What if I missed out on so many jokes and memories and everybody has changed and I’m left out and I don’t think I can handle it. Maybe I shouldn’t go.

*Registered for camp:* I guess I have to go. Now I don’t want to go. But I do. But—I can’t make up my mind, I want to see everyone but it’s going to be too hard.

When I emailed my youth pastor: FULL-RIDE scholarship for camp?! I mean, I just asked for a scholarship since I was also buying plane tickets, but—wait, is this a sign from God that I should be going to camp? Is this real? Do they actually want me there?

When a friend bought my plane tickets: okay, God. I hear you. I need to go to camp—I’m obligated to now, right? But…I guess this is another sign? God, please let the message at camp be one that I need, because right now everything is working out so well, I think this is for me.

The minute I saw my friend at the airport: I’m home.

It was a bit of a rollercoaster, right? I couldn’t figure out what the heck to feel! But let me tell you, it was all worth it, it was all from God, and it was all perfect.

The theme at camp was ‘Jesus our Sherpa.’ During the four days at camp, we talked about climbing up the mountain with Jesus, our Sherpa, the one who showed us the way and helped carry our many burdens along the way. All throughout the Bible, there are stories of people meeting with God on a mountaintop—and mountains come with struggles up the climb. But the view, the experience, it’s like no other.

Now, I would love to write a whole post about how amazing summer camp was—but when I started this post at 1:00 AM, I knew what I wanted to write about: and that was the last night of summer camp.

Our last night was the best night and the most emotionally unstable one. You’ll find out why in a minute.

My youth pastor, Matthew, didn’t have a complete message that night but rather a few instructions. The first was this: unload your pack.

Matthew used this example: when people are hiking Mt. Everest, they have their packs. And in their packs, they have all their necessities—but as they get to the most challenging part of the climb, they have to stop at the bottom of the challenging part and unload their packs. Get rid of the things that would be considered frivolous for this part of the climb. Clean clothes, extra food, more equipment than needed.

They wouldn’t need those things here—they packed the bare minimum, every pound counted and just added another load to the pack. Everything else? They left at the bottom of the summit.

So Matthew invited us to unload our packs.

The lights were dim and the worship team was doing their thing, and everybody was sitting on the floor. We were invited to spread out, and just sit there and unload our packs.

What did we need to leave behind to reach the summit? If we want to make it to the top, what did we have to let go?

Now, like I said at the beginning of this post: I was wondering, “If God is clearing all these paths to let me come–no, to bring me—to Washington, then there must be a good reason. He must have something here for me.”

And he did.

The past couple of months I had been holding onto something that I should’ve let go of when I moved. A relationship, some memories, and more feelings and emotions than I should have been carrying for that long.

It wasn’t something I’d been wanting to carry, but rather something I’d been trying to carry. Convincing myself that it’s going to work out, God’s going to make it happen, he can do crazy things!

And he did do crazy things—just not the crazy thing I was looking for. And as I unloaded my pack, I began to realize this.

Unloading was really hard. I had to take out every single piece, every memory, ever conversation and gift and every inside joke and leave it behind. Did I hate it? Yes. Did I need it? Yes. Did I want to leave it at the bottom? Yes.

Bittersweet.

I could tell that everyone in the room was feeling these emotions—the joy of leaving behind their burdens, but the pain of leaving behind their burdens. After some time, these burdens become familiar, almost like friends. But sometimes friends aren’t as genuine or loving as we like to think, and we need to let them go.

So I left these things, this burden, this extra crap that needed to be dropped at the bottom of my summit. And I continued my climb.

The next morning, I talked with my small group leader and we were discussing the whole ‘art’ of letting go. She used an example that I had seen multiple times but hadn’t actually applied to my life.

This image shows Jesus and a young girl. The girl is holding a small teddy bear and Jesus has his hand out, asking for the bear. But behind his back, he’s holding an even bigger teddy bear—but the little girl can’t see it, so she’s confused about why Jesus is taking away her beloved toy.

I think that we’ve all felt this way at some point, right?

My small group leader then reminded me about the story of Abraham and Issac (read Genesis 22)—Issac was Abraham’s only son whom he’d had at a very old age. God himself had promised Abraham that he and his wife Sarah would have a child. And lo and behold, they did, according to God’s word!

But that gift was taken away from them—at least that’s what Abraham thought. God told Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Issac, as an offering to God. And only when Abraham fully gave up control and raised his hand to kill his son, God stepped in and gave Abraham a ram to sacrifice instead, thus sparing Issac’s life.

She told me that it’s only until we fully surrender, that we see and receive the new gift and new mercies that God is giving us.

I hadn’t been fully surrendering for a long time—and yet I had wondered why God hadn’t given me any peace or freedom from that burden. And that was because I hadn’t surrendered it—not completely and not even partially. I was holding on to it so tightly, and it was just bringing me down.

We are reminded of a verse in Matthew chapter eleven that says: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 NIV)

Jesus has rest—we only need to come to him and give over our packs to our Sherpa.

As I bring this post to a close, I want to invite you to think about what is holding you back. What burden is pulling you down from your climb? And can you fully surrender it to God so that he can show you the goodness that he has in store for you?

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great day!
~Willow

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30 NIV