#235. Confessing things around a campfire.
May 17th by JonI don’t have any scientific proof because the SCL lab is still under construction, but there’s something about campfires that makes it easier to confess our secrets. I’m not sure if it’s that we all smell like mesquite or the smoke or the warmth of a big blaze or just being far away from home, but something happens when you sit Christians around a campfire. Especially teenagers.
I remember one retreat when we were kind of scattered around a campfire starting to unload our stuff verbally. We were admitting some really small stuff like, “I kissed so and so” or “I swear and cuss too much.” All the sudden, one of my friends admitted to burning down an old house in our town. No one lived in it at the time and it was accidental, but he had still burned it down. When he said it, it just kind of hung there until he said his next confession which was even bigger than the house burning. We all started to fidget nervously with pine cones, which is the only thing you can really do in situations like that, until it was time to go to bed.
But those experiences have taught me a few things:
1. We’re getting a fire pit.
When my two daughters are teenagers, we’re going to have a fire pit. When I sense they are distant I’m just going to say, “Hey, what’s that outside? Whoa a campfire, let’s have dinner out there tonight.”
2. I’m going to start carrying a zippo.
From here on out if you and I start having a conversation and you’re trying to tell me something serious, I’ll pull out my zippo lighter and strike it up for you. It will kind of be like being at a Poison concert during the song “Every Rose has it’s Thorn” but maybe even that mini flame will make you feel comfortable enough to open up.
3. The fire game.
Please don’t ever do this and then sue for me all my SCL nickels, but when I was in youth group our favorite game to play was “will it burn.” This is the game where you see if your friend’s shoes will burn, if someone’s CD they shouldn’t be listening to will burn, if anything that is not combustible will in effect melt in the fire. I don’t think our youth minister liked this game, but if at least one person on a retreat does not lose an eyebrow or return home with one less sneaker, I’m not sure you’ve been on one.
Comments
The campfire gives the idea that you are speaking from the dark shadows, so nobody ‘really’ knows who is sharing such deep dark secrets.
Much like commenting on a blog on the internet, while still giving your real name.
Adam J
This works almost as well from the comfort of a fireplace (only if there are real logs).
If you get a hippie friend, they will pay you to let them be the one to stoke the fire and add wood all night.
However, they will pay you in shiny rocks and beads. Possibly hook you up with a “totally heady necklace”
I laughed out loud (as often happens when I read your blog) when I read that you’re getting a campfire when your girls are teens. Oh, would that not be the best if it worked?!
Had only one campfire moment as a youth worker. It was with the youth pastor and other workers, and all he wanted to do was tell us to add small groups to our schedule that already was overloaded with church stuff.
I grew up near the beach, so we would leave a little soda in the bottles, put the lids on, shake them up, and throw them in the fire.
Because in SoCal, “will it burn?” isn’t enough. It becomes rather “can we make it explode?”
I never confessed my sins at campfires because like the guy you mentioned my sins were always “too big” for people to handle and I always knew that. I was the kind of person to share parts of myself that weren’t as obvious and very personal.
I was the type to say something like:
In my life there’s been heartache and pain. I don’t know if I can face it again. Cant stop now, I’ve traveled so far to change this lonely life.
I wanna know what love is ….
Campfire must be used with caution and all socially awkward individuals should be banned from said activty. Here’s why:
TRUE STORY:
I was on a mission trip with about 50 other people when I was in High School. It was the last leg of the trip, but we still had a few days left. We all went to a worship/campfire kind of thing and like you said, people started confessing things, and most of it was warm and fuzzy. They’d confess, sit down, everyone would clap, and say really supportive things. That is until the most socially awkward kid in the group (you know the kid I’m talking about because he’s the kid who always says the wrong thing and should be on meds) stands up. Now let’s just say that if anyone stands up and asks for everyone’s attention at campfire it is not going to end well. So he stands up and and starts talking about how he has struggled with lust. (And I’m thinking, “OK, good job sit down before this goes any further. Sit. Down.”) But Dude just wouldn’t shut up…he goes on and on about how he has been fantasizing about someone in our group. A lot. Like it was a hobby. And he kinda goes into detail. (Ew.) And he has no idea how awkward it is, hasn’t noticed how no one will make eye contact, people are completely embarassed… And he points to my best friend and says, “Snickerdoodle,” not her real name,”I’ve been lusting over you for months, years. And I am in love with you, Snickerdoodle!”…And starts bawling then sits down. So I’m doing this bury my face in my hands thing (because I’m not sure how to reconcile my pee-my-pants laughter with my compassion for my friend). She nearly died of embarassment that night. It’s 17 years later all I have to say is, “Remember that time when”… And she immediately yells, “SHUT UP!”
Ahwwww, good times. Young love.
Okay! Did you go to my youth group?!
Spot-on!
So dude, c’mon, what was that kid’s “bigger” confession?
Enquiring minds want to know.
I’m going to digress from the usual type comments I frequently leave to address the comment left by “stacy in louisville”.
Obviously, I wasn’t at said campfire, but I’m guessing that the “socially awkward” kids probably had a form of autism known as Asperger’s Syndrome. I’m guessing this because I have a 10 year old son who also has this condition. Basically, people who suffer from AS don’t instinctively understand non-verbal social cues that the rest of us take for granted.
I realize that this story was intended only to add another humorous story, but I gotta tell you that it broke my heart. The hardest thing about being my son’s mom is the fact that, even though I know what an awesome, loving, smart kid he is, I CAN’T MAKE PEOPLE VALUE HIM. I can only try to teach him the social cues that he doesn’t understand and pray every single day that the people he comes in contact with show him an ounce of the forgiveness that he must show them on a constant basis. I find it interesting that you had compassion for your friend, but none for the kid that was humiliated. Maybe, just maybe, that some 17 years later when you bring up this story, she tells you to shut up because she actually does have some compassion for the “socially awkward” kid.
Katdish -
First of all, love your comments. You have left the kind of funny comments on this site that other readers read and respond to, which is such a cool thing to me. Second of all, I spent two summers working at a camp for kids with special needs. Now clearly that doesn’t make me an expert, but it did give me great respect for parents that are raising kids with any form of autism.
The only thing about your comment that I think is is a little out of the ordinary is the assumption that a socially awkward teen has a form of autism. Adolescence is typically an awkward time in general. If we diagnosed each socially awkward teen with autism, roughly 85% of our church’s youth group would have autism. And with an estimated 450,000 people out of the 301,000,000 in the US living with autism (Wired Magazine), that seems like a stretch.
It’s possible that kid had Asperger’s Syndrome, and as a parent that does not have a child with it I am in no position to judge how it feels to see people talk about socially awkward teens, but I was a socially awkward teen growing up. I did a lot of things like the kid at the campfire and I didn’t have autism. I was just a kid trying to figure out his emotions and his heart and all the other things that pop up during adolescence. I honestly don’t think Stacy was trying to make fun of someone with autism.
That said, thanks for being honest about an issue that is close to your heart. I appreciate you opening this dialog.
Jon
Jon,
Thanks for the comment. You’re probably right. I’m a little oversensitive when it comes to “social akwardness”, and I was just letting off some steam — Sorry if I offended anyone. I think we all go through periods in our preteen and teens years that we look back on and cringe. I guess what I take issue with the most is that we want to think that church is a place of refuge where our kids can be themselves and be accepted. Sadly that’s just not the case typically. There may be different cliques, but the same rules apply, and that really sucks.
katdish -
I think it would be really hard to not be overly sensitive to that issue if I had a child with autism.
Here’s the bigger issue. I don’t think Stacy did anything but respond to a conversation I had started. She’s actually a great friend of the site. She reads a lot, writes really funny comments and is honest. I think the issue is, how do I (you, me, everyone) understand the difference between teasing and loving people? That is, can you be sarcastic without wounding people? (I honestly believe God was sarcastic in a lot of cases) I started the post, I joked about the surprisingly awkward campfire confession, Stacy just responded. It’s really on me more than anything. I think this is a challenge I am will constantly face when writing this site. I think it is something I’ve gotten wrong in the past and may get wrong in the future. But comments like yours help me understand it is an issue and work on it, so for that I am appreciative. Bottom line is, I am learning what it means to love. And that is the easiest/hardest thing on the planet.
Jon
Your title is slightly wrong. It should actually read “Confessing things around a campfire, after singing It only Takes a Spark…“
It became a joke for a couple of us in our youth group. We started making bets with each other as to how soon someone would start singing what we affectionately called “the spark song” it never failed we always sang it.
Kate–”can it explode?” pretty much sums up a lot of my time in youth group. There were a lot of dudes.
Also, because of this, fire was not common for us. Most of the confession time happened in the church van… along with some more shady activities. You know who you are in the back seat… mmhmm… the four seater at the back of the 15 passenger…
Jon & Stacy:
Thanks for the reality check. I just served myself a giant piece of humble pie. After removing my sizable foot from my mouth, it was really quite delicious…with just the right amount of crow!
Okay, I know this is a slightly older post, but I can’t resist commenting, if only for my own amusement. I remember sitting around a campfire at (Christian) camp one summer, listening to a counselor making a confession that involved the phrase “worshiping the porcelain goddess.” Being a rather innocent twelve-year-old, I totally thought he was confessing to some sort of idolatry/involvement in a crazy cult. Took me years to put it all together. I can only look back and laugh at my own dorkitude.
I'm sorry Jon, this bugs me so much–
isn't it "all OF A sudden" and not "all the sudden"….? I've been noticing people saying this recently and I correct them all.
Sorry…my job is correcting reports grammatically and I can get crazy anal about stupid things.
teens so much love fire.
We'd play 'fireball soccer'. The ball would be made of hessian bags crammed into a wire mesh (chicken wire) and roughly soccer ball shape/size. It would be soaked in diesel overnight. The field would be lit with those open flame anti-mosquito things (always played at night.) The game began when you lit the ball alight.
I can tell you, it flamed out like an apocolitpic meteor when you kicked it.
Really took guts to chest block a huge ball of fire
We were insane in those days.
It's something about the lighting. I promise.