There are 8 billion (give or take a few) humans currently spinning our wheels on a giant rock hurtling through space at thousands of miles an hour.

This summer I hung out with 3,000 of them. I had the holy privilege of being at 6 weeks of summer camp and intersecting journeys with people young and old.

I threw the above fact out a few times accompanied with the idea that it’s not an accident. It wasn’t an accident that several hundred of us decided to hang out for a week at a time.


I wanted my new friends to know that our gathering should shape how we lived intentionally – that week and beyond.


Flash forward to now. Looking back this summer was a whirlwind. I feel that, in many ways, I am still processing what it was for me - the lessons God taught me, the ways I saw the Holy Spirit move, and the ways my journey intersected with a few thousand other's journeys. 


On July 31 I came home. I did the only natural thing, went and got a Cali Burrito from Ortizs and found a quiet spot to eat it in my truck bed. 


For the first time in a few months my life was quiet. 


The summer felt like a freight train that had been hurtling along at hundreds of miles an hour that was suddenly stopping. I could feel the brakes grinding inside of me as the inertia of going was halting. 

Most of the last month has been spent attempting to put language to the season I just experienced. Naming it. Labeling it. Telling stories. I CRAVE defining seasons. I so wish that I could wrap up 3 months worth of stories and put them in a neat little box, write "summer" on it, then store it away for a rainy day. I crave this because I want to control. Because I want to control what growth happens in my life.

Unfortunately though (or fortunately), that's not how our lives work. 

There’s been one word that has moved me forward in this past month of processing.


More camp? What??

No. I’m not talking about more camp. Or more in a consumerist, get-all-you-can-and-build-up-your-money-and-get-rich-and-buy-a-huge-house-and-vacation-in-tahiti kind of way. That’s not my incentive in life.

More in a holistic way. Our English word for more comes from a Greek word called perissos  which describes something that is over and above, more than is necessary. It’s also translated as exceedingly abundantly, something further, more plainly superior.

This summer the Holy Spirit taught me a lot. God blew the metaphorical doors off my psyche in teaching me about healing, prayer, and God’s heart for the restoration of all things. This summer I saw first-hand the ways that resurrection – life coming from the dark/death/shadow places – is at the core of what it means to be a Jesus follower.

 So yes, I want more. This fall I want to see more of God. It feels like something I’m literally craving right now. I want to understand more. Experience more. See more. Hear more. Listen more. Know more.

I don’t just want to talk about it. I don’t just want to do something about it. I want to experience a deep presence. I want that presence to saturate to the depths of my being. I want that presence to continue working on me and transforming me. Healing the areas of death in me so that life can grow.

Let’s do this, friends.

I’m ready for more. 

Jeremy Schultheiss1 Comment