Here I Raise My Ebenezer

"Then Samuel took a stone...he named it Ebenezer, saying, 'Thus far has the LORD helped us.'"  1 Samuel 7:12

Thus far has the Lord helped me.  

This coming Friday, I will raise my own Ebenezer and say, "Thus far the Lord has helped me."  Friday marks 15 years of choosing to follow Christ, of choosing to believe he is worthy of my devotion.  

I remember the moment as if it just happened.  I was standing in the pavilion at Camp Kirkwood in southwestern Ohio.  I had a red track shirt on that I had from running track in middle school.  I had a black pair of soccer shorts on and a really crappy pair of black and red Nike shoes which my family had been begging me to get rid of.  The night's presenters were teaching about the importance of running the race of faith, basing it on 1 Corinthians 9:24-27.  They had several volunteers, myself included, come up and represent the different types of people who run the race.    There are the runners that are standing at the starting line - the race has started but they are just kind of wandering aimlessly.  There are the ones who have also entered the race, but they have so much baggage and so many chains wrapped around themselves they can't even begin to run.  There are those that are just flat out running in the complete opposite direction, far, far away from the finish line.  And then there are the ones who are running the race wholeheartedly, with their eyes fixed on the finish line, fixed on Jesus.

I was picked to represent that last person.

And I remember thinking, "I am the last person who should be standing up here to represent that person."  I was doing anything but running the race.  I was so full of hypocrisy and double-mindedness.  And in that moment, this sudden dawning came over my small teenage mind: I can never bridge the gap.  I can never get from here to God apart from Christ.  I am nothing without Him.  All of my vain attempts, all of my striving, so desperately trying to get my act together in my own strength - it's all futile.  And in that moment, I bowed low and said, "I am yours."

Grace waving farewell.

And while I celebrate the sovereignty and grace of God over these last 15 years, these reflections were made even sweeter when this past Sunday I dropped my own niece, Grace, off to the very same camp, nearly 15 years to the day.  It's her first time to go to Kirkwood, to be away from her family for an entire week, to be on her own.  As my brother Jeremy, Grace and I all drove down to Kirkwood, Jeremy and I swapped stories and rehashed memories, giving Grace tips - things like keep your elbows off the table or they'll make you sing.  Or stay away from the boys' camp.  Or just stay away from boys all together.  Or don't take food into the cabins unless you want critters sleeping with you.  See, Jeremy was there as well the night I accepted Christ, serving as a counselor.  I remember being a sobbing mess in the moment and when I finally bothered to look up and make my way out of the building, I was desperate to find him, to give him a hug.  All the more sweeter then, to come full circle, to set foot on this cherished ground over a decade later, to have my brother back in that same place with me again but then to send my niece off, his daughter, the next generation.  I want her to encounter the same Jesus I met at Kirkwood all those years ago.  He is still alive.  He still sits on his throne.  He still welcomes sinners.

And I still raise my Ebenezer to Him.  Thus far the Lord has helped me.