This is it then: the last ever Barnabas Camp. It certainly feels like it too. It feels like the end. It feels like the end of a very long road... and the beginning of a very uncertain one.
July 22, 1999. The lights on the hillside flicked on one by one as the sky grew darker. Laughter from the caravan next door and silence in my tiny dome tent. I sat cross-legged watching the night fall and the long day disappear. Clouds rolled across the Cornish sky over hills and fields that gradually merged into the darkness. I was of course, alone. Mark and Linda, who had driven me there, had started the long trek home, and apart from the Thomases, drinking hot chocolate in their warm caravan, there was nobody else on the Royal Cornwall Showground. Perhaps it was the long journey, perhaps the uncertainty of what the week would hold and what Barnabas Camp would be like, that made me so afraid. Whatever, I remember being incredibly lonely and tearful. I watched the sun set, prayed, then zipped up my tent and climbed into my sleeping bag.
There have been many camps since then of course. They've changed my life. There have been heatwaves and downpours, upsets and new relationships, friends, worship times, baptisms, astonishing teachings and incredible deliverances. Many marriages were kindled across a windswept field or in a rain-lashed youth barn. Many incredible things have happened over the years, both at Wadebridge (1998 - 2005) and here at Monkton Combe (2006 - 2011). Many friends too, have come and have gone.
There is though, no time like the present. And the present, this last year here at Monkton Combe, is a fascinating moment for me. No longer a worship leader at Barnabas events, no longer a member of the youth team or ministry team, no longer really anything other than a familiar old face, I find myself sitting in this little box room, just as tearful and as lonely as my 21 year-old self, wondering just how I got here... and what might be next.
"It's not the same without you up there Matt," said someone nodding at the stage.
"This is where I need to be," I said firmly. My heart was breaking though. Obedience is difficult.
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There is a conflict here. I don't know how many people can sense it, but it's here and it is bubbling. This camp, this last camp is the last event for some people. And there may be some people I will say goodbye to at the end of this week that I might not see again. And the thing is, when it's people you love, people who have been part of your family for years, it feels... just so wrong.
The road ahead is nothing but uncertain.
