Surf camp
This summer in Croyde was the inaugural Ocean Church Surf Camp. For five days, a group of just over 20 of us camped a short walk (although the definition of “short” was contested!) from the beach, where we ate, slept, did life and adventured together. It was a fantastic time – relationships were deepened, pasta well past its sell-by-date was shared and devoured, and water fights were just about reigned in before spiralling out of control. More than that – we experienced, we reflected and connected.
Camping is ‘intense’ the hilarious homophone reminds us. Greater effort is required than in normal, everyday activities. Trips to collect water, visit the bathroom or just to put something in the bin rapidly increase your step-count. It’s also much harder to hide your true self when camping in a group. Someone is bound to see exactly what you look like just after you have unfolded yourself from a sleeping bag first thing in the morning. Your parenting is visible to all and audible too, as canvas is not a good noise insulator! People see more of the “real you” meaning our genuine selves are more exposed. Importantly these are accepted by fellow campers.
As it was Ocean Church, our week was characterised by adventure. Some ventured off on their own costal walks or runs and later shared what they had seen or experienced. For most of us, a significant part of adventure was experienced in the water, where swimming, bodyboarding and surfing were the main activities. All ages made their way into the waves, for some repeatedly throughout the day: in the morning, afternoon and at sunset. Fun with friends was prioritised and community that isn’t found in other friendship groups was fostered and deepened. It felt like what church is meant to feel like.
For me, surfing connected me with nature and the divine. I’ve had two previous shorter attempts at surfing which I’ve blogged about before but this was the first time in around fifteen years. I genuinely loved it. Surfing made me want to keep that wetsuit on and stay in the sea. That’s not to say I was much good at it – it’s humbling to be wiped out repeatedly by the waves, especially when your own children are standing on a board for longer that you can manage! But, like many in our number, I improved and could notice the progress I was making.
Out in the water, trudging into the seemingly constant battering of crashing waves, creativity was sparked. Parallels between God and the ocean were felt – really felt – the divine was not just a mental construct. In the sea, you are not always in your comfort zone, especially when you find yourself deeper than you expected with a wave breaking over you and your board hitting you on the head. Faith is like that sometimes too, when the security is whipped out from under your feet and life hits you for six.
Looking for the next wave to catch can involve a lot of waiting. “They come in waves!” someone wittingly pointed out. Our lives of faith can also have periods of quiet where not much seems to be happening, teaching us patience and resilience. When the chance eventually comes and you dutifully turn your board to face the shore and begin paddling, this is no guarantee that you will ride to the beach triumphantly. More often than not, I was deposited back into the water. Our ideals of what following God look like may not match the reality and that may not be our fault.
Each evening at Surf Camp, we connected as a group. During the day, we tried to read the same Psalm which we discussed long after the sun had set. We also talked about how we sensed God in our exploits of the day. We listened to and learned from each other. We prayed that we would continue to see God in our lives not only when we had the time to relax and spent copious time in the sea. The reality is that the calm euphoria of riding a wave is unlikely to continually characterise our faith experience when back in the routines of everyday life. Much of it will seem like the slog of wading into choppy waters, rubbed by seams of wetsuits, sore from the effort of holding your board as walls of water crash into it. Perhaps the important thing is that encouraged by those around us, we continue to choose to turn to walk back into the ocean of faith and continue that adventure.
