On Zion's Hill

by Anna J. Small Roseboro

  “’Sam, do you hear something? I don’t see nobody. Do you see somebody, Sam? Must be my ‘magination. Ain’t nobody here but us two. Must be my ‘magination.’ Then they go back to watching TV or playing they silly games.”

  “Ah, man. That’s awful. Can’t you do something?” asks Pete.

  “They both bigger than me. When they not ignoring me, they beating me up. They’d gang up on me, twist my arm, even hold me down and tickle me. They think that’s so funny. Any kind of stuff to make me miserable. If I start crying, they just laugh.”

  He looks around, wondering whether he’s talking too much to guys he’d just met. But he feels them drawing him out, so he doesn’t stop. “It hurts guys. Y’all know I ain’t no wimp. I really ain’t no crybaby. But it hurts being on the outside and invisible, but still getting beat up.” By this time, Larry is standing and begins pacing.

  “A lotta times I’d just go out in the backyard to get away from they teasing. Then they close the sliding glass door to shut me out that way. Lots of time they won’t open the door till one of the parents come home. Then Sam and Ricky act all surprised that I’m out there. It’s awful. Just awful.” Larry stops. No one says anything.

  Larry takes a deep breath and looks around, making eye contact with each of the guys. “But here at camp. Y’all let me in.” He grins and chortles nervously. “Yeah, y’all tease me some, but y’all been nice to me. Around here, I can finally relax.” Blowing out the deep breath, he exclaims, “For two whole weeks I ain’t been scared somebody gonna come by and punch me and then pretend like it didn’t happen.”

  Larry stops again, and tenses, stiffening into a bronze statue, exhales, relaxing into a Gumby, and then stands proud. “Y’all let me play ball with you, and my old skills are coming back. I’m having fun again. I got friends here.” He squares his shoulders only for a moment. “I got friends here.” Then he slumps over like a melting candle. “But I ain’t got none at home. At home I’ll go back into being left out and alone”. He sits back down, relieved to have told his tale, but loath to return home.

  Ken is tempted to interject with the, “You’re never alone. God is with you wherever you are” spiel. But he doesn’t have to. Without moving physically, the campers have encircled Larry. Confessions flow. They share their own stories about being alone or picked on. Some talk about ways their faith in God helps them to deal with going to a new school – four of them had been freshmen in high school this past year. Their stories unveil similar experiences with siblings or parents.

  Soon, though, talk slows down, dries up. The boys withdraw – wondering if they’ve said too much, let down their masks, sloughed off their shields, revealed soft, vulnerable underbellies, and opened themselves to become targets of scoffing the next day. Patiently, Ken waits.

  Then one of the boys, George, speaks up and asks, “Larry, do you want to pray?” Silence.

  “Do you want to invite Christ into your life?” Silence.

  “You can take His Spirit home with you.” More silence.

  Ken gingerly steps back, out of the firelight. He feels led by the Lord to let the boys handle this situation. Standing there in the shadows, he scolds himself a bit for the unwarranted pride – feeling he’s been responsible for reaching these young men -- then sighs a prayer of thanksgiving that it has happened through him. He remains out of their way and lets them minister to their fellow camper.

  One by one, these adolescent boys stand up next to or kneel around Larry. Each one inches close enough to put a hand either on Larry’s shoulder or on the shoulder of a camper nearby.

  They wait. Patiently. Silently. Sensitive to the moment. Letting the warmth of the Spirit move on Larry’s heart. Some close their eyes. George watches. He sees the slight nod indicating that Larry is ready to pray. George glances toward Ken. He nods his head, signaling George to take the lead.

  And with quiet confidence, George invites Larry to repeat what he says,

  “Dear God, I understand that I am a sinner who needs you. I understand that Jesus died for my sins. I accept Him as my Savior and ask that you send your Spirit to live in me. Thank you, God. Amen.”

  Larry repeats the words in trembling voice – a little incredulous that speaking the words sincerely is all that it takes for this change to take place in his heart and mind. His tears flow for joy this time – instead of sorrow. He looks around at the boys encircling him, smiling shyly as the campers move closer to give him a quick one arm hug or pat on the shoulder; some surreptitiously wipe the tears from their own eyes. Larry doesn’t shrink from this physical interaction; he welcomes their manly tenderness.

  Pete, a little embarrassed by the damp emotions flowing around them, perhaps to relieve the tension, begins singing, softly at first, and then more lustily, “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart.” Other boys join in. Soon all stand with arms around shoulders like athletes in a locker room huddle, rocking to the rhythm of the song.

  I’ve got the peace that passeth understanding

  Down in my heart.

  Down in my heart.

  Down in my heart.

  I’ve got the peace that passeth understanding

  Down in my heart

  Down in my heart to stay!”

  Ken decides to say nothing more that evening. He just gives the boys a gentle thump on the shoulder as each passes him towards the path leading back to the cabins. As a coach sending his team onto the playing field, Ken prays for a victory and that they each will continue to experience the presence of the Lord in their lives. As he covers the lingering embers of the campfire, Ken also prays a prayer of thanks that God has answered their prayer to Kum Bah Ya. Clearly, God did indeed “come by here” tonight.

  THE NEXT DAY, Ken joins Larry after breakfast and they walk in the shade of the tree-lined path to the small clearing where the group would meet later for Bible study. “Larry, I appreciate your sharing your story with us last night. That took a lot of courage. It must have been tough to relive those hard times.” Larry nods shyly and looks up. Ken turns and locks eyes with him.

  “You know, Larry, we’re all glad you came to camp this year. You’ve been a great inspiration to the guys on and off the court.” Larry shrugs embarrassed shoulders and looks at his dusty gym shoes. Feeling somewhat exhausted from lack of sleep after the emotional evening, Larry finds it hard to believe that this morning his new friends aren’t questioning his story and teasing him. He can hardly believe he dumped it all on these guys he’d just met.

  “Really, Brother Ken?”

  “Yeah, man. We’re really glad you came. After hearing your story last night, though, I wondered what made you decide to come to this camp.”

  “Oh, that. Well. The guy next door goes to y’all’s church. I guess he been seeing me sittin’ around. I think he seen what Sam and Ricky been doin’ to me. Well, one day, he musta seen I been down.”

  Sensing the embarrassment, Ken nods, reassuring Larry to go on.

  “I ain’t been crying in public or nothing. You believe me, don’t’ you, Brother Ken? I ain’t no crybaby. But I do sit outside a lot – by myself, you know? He musta seen me. Anyway, about a week after school got out, he called me over to his yard. He ast me what I gonna be doing this summer.”

  The counselor and counselee walk companionably along the path. Larry explains, “I had no idea. I just knew I didn’t wanna be hanging around with Sam and Ricky for no two whole months. No tellin’ what they’d do all summer. I told Mr. Richmon – that’s his name. I told him, I didn’t have no plans. I wondered if he had a job for me at his company. He own his own business, you know. I believe he kinda rich. He said no, he didn’t have no job there – at his office, I mean. He say if I water his lawn and cut his grass the two weeks when him and his wife go on vacation, he pay my way to camp here. I jumped at his offer. Of course, I had to ask Moms about it. But, she was OK with it, so here I am.”

  By this time the other boys have arrived, gathering in their regular s
pots for their final morning Bible study, and Larry, no longer embarrassed, just keeps right on talking, first to one, then another, bubbling over with gratitude for the friends he’s made at camp and for all that he’s learned. He looks around and sees they are eager to have him go on. With lively confidence, he admits,

  “Man. I had no idea it would be this cool. I thought it would be all religious and stuff. You know, singing hymns, talking God stuff, and reading the Bible all the time. Shoot, I didn’t even care if it was. Anything would be better than being around Sam and Ricky all summer.”

  The boys settle in knowing Larry will keep talking until his and their story is told.

  “Now I has met you guys and hear Brother Ken talk about God and, you know, how He want us to come to Him when we having problems and all. I just can’t believe He sent His Son to help us get back to God. I don’t understand all that. It’s weird. . . that we can be friends with God. But that do sound cool to me. That God gonna be fighting for me. Hey, Brother Ken, you think maybe God gonna do something to Sam and Larry so them boys stop messin’ with me. That be really cool.”

  Ken smiles, but says nothing. Larry continues.

  “But about Thursday, after hearing all y’all talking about Christ and God and all that, and listening to Brother Ken, I started to understand that God may not change Sam and Ricky, but He might could change me, if I repented and all that stuff.” Larry is totally unaware that he is giving testimony to and affirming the value of a Christian camp.

  “I started thinking about how I wanted to be strong and not feel like cryin’ all the time ‘cause of what them boys be doing to me. I ain’t never been no crybaby and it made me mad that I been actin’ like one. Like I told you, I been real popular and I thought I was a strong person. But these past few months was just awful…until I got to camp.”

  The boys’ attentiveness draws out the story. They are thirsty to hear how the same old camp they’ve been coming to for years is different for a new guy.

  “You guys didn’t know me. But y’all treated me OK. Y’all let me in. Y’all pick me play on y’all teams and everything. My old good feelings come back. Nobody picked on me.” The boys laugh, a little embarrassed to be complimented.

  “Well,” Larry brings them down a bit, “no more than y’all pick on everybody round here. I started reading my Bible during quiet time and, you know, I think I’m getting to know more about God.” He turns to speak directly to Ken. “I really like those Proverbs and some of the Psalms you told us about, Brother Ken. I know Proverbs is your favorite. But I really like the Psalms. I gonna start memorizing the first chapter.”

  “Really, Larry? You’re memorizing the Bible?” scoffs Ronnie – gently though. He can tell that Larry is really serious. To soften his teasing, he asks Larry to say as much of Psalms as he could. He thinks that may make Larry feel better.

  “Sure, Ronnie. Yeah, I can say the first coupla verses of Psalms 1,

  Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly,

  nor standeth in the way of sinners,

  nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

  But his delight is in the law of the Lord;

  and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

  “I don’t know about that meditating day and night stuff, but I know I feel better after quiet time when I be thinking about what I be reading and learning here at camp. I think I can go home now and put up with what be going on there. I ain’t sure I got enough nerve yet to stand up to Sam and Ricky, though.”

  Then, looking around at his new friends, Larry drops his head, then raises it, smiling shyly and says with growing sureness, “Maybe with God’s help, I be able to just stand them.” He laughs, and then looks up with new found confidence.

  His fellow campers nod for him to continue. He does. “Now when I learn how to pray, I think I’ll pray that they get saved, too. You know, will get to know God, and all. I gotta learn how to tell them what I learned here. But I sure don’t believe I got enough nerve to talk about it yet. I just hope I can show them they can’t get to me no more.”

  The guys nod reticently, knowing they’d be as reluctant to speak religious stuff to their peers as Larry admits he is.

  “Yeah, Larry, you right. You gotta stand up for yourself and for God. You a Christian now.” Ronnie challenges, “Remember what Brother Ken says about ‘Greater is He that is in you than He that is in the world?’ I learned about that in youth group and I’ve had to repeat it a lot now that I go to high school. It’s hard to be a Christian in high school. I know what you mean, man. Do I sure know what you mean!”

  Ken, remembering what happened the past evening around the campfire, let the boys talk among themselves about their ups and downs once they invited God to be the center of their lives. Sure, the boys listen to him all right, but he’s a grown-up. They will be more convinced when their peers testify to their own experiences as Christians.

  The conversation soon winds down. Ken stands, holds out his hand signaling his campers to join hands. He invites them first to give God thanks for what they’ve experienced and to pray for God’s keeping power once they return to their homes. He asks each one in the circle to pray especially for the person standing on his right.

  How gratifying to hear the heartfelt prayers, personalized by the young people in his group. It sounds like they’ve gotten to know the special needs of their fellow campers and are comfortable verbalizing them, asking God’s help in meeting those needs.

  His silent prayer is that they keep in touch after camp and support each other as best they can once they disperse to their homes around the country. He’s heard several of them exchanging addresses. He just hopes they’ll write. Writing back and forth and praying for each other will help them maintain their own resolve and resist the temptation to fall back into their old ways. But, to be honest, he knows from personal experience how the zeal of camp diminishes once the kids are back at home. They’ll probably get busy and forget to write.

  THAT AFTERNOON, AS THE CAMPERS WAIT in front of the cinder block dining hall, Joey steps closer to Ken and whispers, “Now, don’t forget. Brother Ken. My sister’ll be here Saturday. Our cottage is just up the hill from the tabernacle. You know, the cottage with the blue door. We’re the only one with a blue door up on that road. I told Celeste we’d meet you in the back of the tabernacle about half an hour before service Saturday night. Okay? We’ll meet by that big tree. Yeah, the one with the big knot in it… about five feet up. You know the one? Great. Brother Ken. I’m sure you’ll like my sister. I know she’ll like you.”

  Joey rattles on, bragging to the guys still waiting for their parents to come for them. “Hey, guys. I’m gonna introduce my sister to Brother Ken. Maybe they’ll get married and he’ll be my real brother. That’ll be cool. My sister married to Brother Ken. What you saying, Pete? You got a sister, too. Well, I got dibs. I’m gonna get to him first. He already promised to meet my sister first! Right, Brother Ken?”

  AND SO IT HAD GONE, ALL WEEK. Most of Ken’s campers have older sisters or cousins or some woman they wanted him to meet. Personally, he is not interested. He’s just finished his first year of college and has three more in one of the toughest programs at Penn State. Though he’s not the first, few people from his town even go away to college; even fewer start a degree in chemical engineering, and fewer still complete academic work for any degree. Apparently that was typical at Penn State, too.

  He grimaces, recalling that first meeting with the chair of the metallurgy department in the College of Engineering.

  “All right you guys. Look to the left. Now, look to the right. This may be the last time you see these fellows. Half of you will have dropped out by the end of the first year. Half of those left will be gone by the third year. Only about twenty-five percent of you have what it takes to get a degree from this department!”

  Some greeting to a freshmen engineering class! But, Ken picked up the gauntlet and committed himself to being one of
the twenty-five percent who graduates. That means he doesn’t have time for women in his life at this time. Especially since he’s earned a basketball scholarship to help pay his expenses. He has to keep his grades up to stay on the team, and he has to stay on the team to stay in school. Even with the VA benefits, he doesn’t have enough saved to finish his Bachelor of Science degree without this scholarship. So, no women!

  STILL. THAT ANGELA JEANETTE SEEMS NICE. She speaks intelligently. Lily recommends her. She, too, is pursuing a college degree, is active in her church, carries herself well and her girls at camp certainly seemed fond of her. He is puzzled and not sure how his regard for Lily carries over to Angie. But he’s sure it means something. Yes. It confirms his positive take on Angie.

  What’s the big deal in seeing more of her? It’s only a week of camp meeting. It may even be diverting to spend a little time getting to know her while she’s in town. He won’t promise her anything, though. When he gets back to school, he’s got to be able to refocus his attention on his game and on his coursework. No problem. It’ll be okay to look her up tomorrow.

  BY THIS TIME, KEN IS NEARLY HOME, having cruised mentally on autopilot the few miles from the campground and he soon will be turning onto the road leading to the gravel driveway and up to the place his parents are building their dream ranch home – a red brick one with snow white mortar.

  They’ve come a long way since he lived here during high school. They’ve got the basement dug and capped, but they’re still living in a small trailer. It’s been nearly ten years since they bought this property just across the school district line of the town where he’d grown up. They plan to furnish the basement so they can move in this winter. They’ll stay down there until they save enough to finish the rest of the house, exactly the way they want it.