Recently I was blessed to be a counselor at a wonderful camp, secluded in a cornfield somewhere in Virginia. I consider myself to be a seasoned camp counselor, as I have not only been a camper for most of my life but have been privileged enough to work multiple camps with all kinds of different facilities. I have worked camps with multi-thousand dollar facilities, with zip lines, rock walls, ropes courses, and boats. I have worked at camps with amazing water sports, camps with paintball, camps with canoes and paddle boats and floating blobs or trampolines in the middle of the water. I have worked at camps with in ground pools and camps without any pools, and even some camps with go-karts. I've had problem kids, kids who refuse to listen to anything I say, kids who sneak out after lights out to meet a significant other, and kids who are every camp counselors dream.
This past week, I was blessed with an amazing group of girls. They listened to almost everything I said, they cleaned like they were related to Danny Tanner, they sat on the front row every time service started, they lifted their hands in worship, they showed excellent sportsmanship during team games, and they were sweet, kind, caring, inclusive, and team players. It was wonderful. But while I watched my girls and I felt my heart swell for the wonderful experiences they were having I noticed something. I noticed the girl sitting in the back row with her knees drawn up to her chest. I noticed the boy slouched down in his seat, glancing around as if he was afraid someone would try and come speak to him. I noticed the girl with her her eyes on the floor, her headphones in, not joining in the service. Not hearing the words of love and hope the preacher spoke about their lives.
My heart, bursting with happiness and pride only moments before broke into pieces To the girl in the back row, I just want you to know you are loved. You are loved so very much. You may not realize it, but you are. I don't know your story. I don't know if you come from a broken home. I don't know if you have had something traumatic happen to you. Maybe you are just shy. Maybe you don't like crowds. But dear precious girl, do not let these things keep you from missing out on a wonderful experience. I know what it's like to be the girl on the front row, the happy girl with lots of friends. But I also know what it is like to be the girl in the back row, the girl who is terrified of being called out and embarrassed, but secretly hopes someone will anyway. I don’t know your story, but I can guess what you are feeling. You want someone to pay attention to you, someone to give you hope. Someone to tell you that you aren't worthless.
You aren’t worthless. You are worth more than you ever dreamed. My sweet beautiful girl, hiding on the back row, you are a princess. You were bought with the highest price anyone can pay. Have you ever dreamed of a prince charming to come riding up in a white Camry and whisk you away from everything? You have a prince charming. He is the prince of peace, and his name is wonderful, counselor, healer, redeemer, friend. He is a relentless lover, pursuing you without ceasing. I know you can't always feel his presence. Neither can I. But he is there. He is there when you don’t see him when you don’t feel him, and when you think everyone else has abandoned you, he is there. He will never leave you, he promises to stick closer to you than your own family. Oh my sweet girl sitting on the back row, I pray you will one day feel his loving arms surrounding you. I know how scared you must be.
The back row is safe. It’s a small island in the midst of the self-proclaimed Jesus freaks. The back row is where no one will make you stand up in front of everyone. The back row is where no one falls over and says weird things that you can not understand. The back row is where no one pays attention to you, and no one notices you, even when you secretly hope someone will. But there is a downside to the safety of the back row, perhaps you may have started to realize this as camp drew to a close. In the back row, you aren’t surrounded by people who want to love on you. In the back row, there is no one to come up and put their arm around you while you cry. There is no one to pray for you, hold you, or show you the compassion, mercy, love, forgiveness, and acceptance that you deserve and desperately seek. There is no healing in safety. Think of going to the doctor’s office.
You need a shot to get better from an illness, but the needle is big and you are scared. The shot may hurt, but without it, how will you get better? Beautiful princess in the back row with your head down, please look up. I am here. I see you. You won’t be alone. If you need someone to sit with you, please just make eye contact with me. I will be there. You have left camp now. I don’t know what you are doing or how things are at home, but I am praying for you. At night, as your tears wet your pillow, I am praying for the Father to the Fatherless comes and surrounds you with his love. During your school days, as you seek acceptance from the other kids, I will be praying you find it in the one who wants to be your Savior. Someone saw you. Someone noticed. Someone cared. Next Sunday at church, next Wednesday at youth group, I pray you will move a seat closer. I pray you will find your courage and your boldness. Because sweet, sweet girl on the back row, someone noticed you, and someone cares. To the girl in the back row, if no one else tells you this today, I want you to know, I love you, and so does Jesus.
