Retreat doesn't always mean surrender

So, got to spend this weekend at a youth retreat.

As I've mentioned in the past, I'm involved as a leader in my church's college class. Our college class is called "The Journey," which I think is cool because it acknowledges the fact that our life (and our relationship with God) is never static, but we are always progressing from one point to another.

So, our merry band took off for a retreat upon the lovely Columbia River for the weekend.

At first, we thought we'd be stuck on Government Island. I use the word "stuck", which has a negative connotation. Really, Gov't Island isn't bad. It just lacks certain amenities that can help a weekend on the beach be more comfortable. Plus, being restricted to boat access with 50 or 60 people makes life needlessly hard.

However, at the last minute, the City of Washougal came through in the pinch and granted us access to Cottownwood Beach, which has all the charm of Government Island plus the needed amenities and road access, and is not so close to the lovely essence of Camas and it's smelly paper mill.

I want to share quickly what I like the most about my church's college class. As stated in my earlier discussion of college classes in general, church college classes are generally a mish-mash of post-high-school, pre-marriage people of all ilks. They can become a difficult thing to manage, because it is hard to balance the needs of people who are in college with those who aren't, of people who are 19 with people who are 26. Everyone's in a different point in their journey, and while you can try to pitch a big tent, not everyone always feels welcome inside. Our college group has acknowledged that this can be a difficult proposition, but we actively remind ourselves that we are trying to invite people of all sorts in, and we're accepting the challenge of being tolerant of all sorts while at the same time being firm about what we stand for. As a result, we have a menagerie of sorts, with nursing students, actual nurses, computer nerds, bohemian folks, probationers in rehab, athletes--you name it, we've got it, or we're working on it.

It's not often that I, as a criminal prosecutor, get to spend time with convicted felons where I'm not judging them and they aren't judging me. A couple weeks ago, a group of us were hanging out. (Now, to be clear, I don't exactly advertise my vocation, because some people are just intimidated being around a lawyer, not to mention one who puts people in jail). It was me and four guys who are in the Salvation Army's Adult Rehabilitation Center program in Portland, most of whom are on some sort of probation or parole, or recently got out of a situation where they weren't exactly happy with law-enforcement types. They were going around the circle talking about the various restrictions on their driver's licenses (all suspended), and I was just being mum (in an accepting, non-judgmental way) trying to establish myself as someone they didn't need to be afraid to be around. Then another guy walks up (the more bohemian sort) and announces to all "this guy's a DA." They all looked at me, not quite sure what to make of me. "And he's hard-core." This is true to a certain extent, but not something they really needed to know. Nevertheless, after I was done looking at this fella in shock, I looked back to find the group had scattered and I was alone.

I didn't appreciate this. It isn't conducive to making people feel welcome.

But the guys came back. I spent this weekend bonding with three of them. We're not best buddies or anything, but they know I accept them, and I think they accept me. And that's what our group is about--acknowledging eachother's place in the journey, and walking with eachother in friendship.

Anyway, my role this weekend was primarily to run late-night activities. This is a dangerous role for me, because I watch too much TV and have bad, bad ideas.

First night was "Fear Factor" night. Fear Factor, as we all know, is a game where contestants engage in feats of strenght, skill, courage, and gastro-intestinal intrigue for a prize of $50,000. Well, our budget was considerably lower, and our church insurance isn't all that great, so our Fear Factor focussed on the intestinal fireworks. Contestants engaged in a ring toss where you had to eat canned dog food (more food for the worse you tossed), a breath holding contest where worse performances entitled you to drink more gross-out smoothie (consisting of various items from our dinner burrito buffet mixed with apple juice), and some other disgusting competition which frankly escapes me because it was so sick and wrong. The winner got a stupid flashlight. The crowd was sickened. My job was done.

Until the second night. For the second night, we determined performance art should be done. Marc, the pastor, came up with the idea of "Man Babies" about a month ago, and reminded me of it in preparation for our retreat. So, we did Man Babies. This consisted of staging a story-time in front of the crowd (complete with "Camp Time", a children's book I found at K-Mart for $1.99) and then me and another not-so-slim guy coming out in Depends undergarments with 32-oz Gatorade bottles (with nipples in the tops) in our hands and making baby-type asses out of ourselves.

If you've never seen me in a diaper, there's a reason. It's just not pretty. The other guy was every bit as not-pretty, and the cumulative effect was a crowd that laughed just about enough to justify my embarassment. This was followed by a Trivial Pursuit game where we made two of our 40-something leaders face two of our under-25 students, with the losing team being force-fed baby food by the winners. This was funny enough in itself. It was funnier when the crafty, conniving loser 40-something enticed the brash 19-year old winner into pouring all of the food into his mouth at once, then spat it back all over her. The crowd lost it, and the night was an obvious success.

And now I'm back home. It was fun to get away, but after a weekend with a diverse group of people younger than me, it's nice to be home. I'm looking forward to getting a good night's sleep.

What did I get out of the weekend? A good farmer tan, some time out of my comfort zone with other people out of theirs (which is often very productive in terms of personal growth), and a new embarassing memory to add to the pantheon.

Since I've been gone, no links today. But it's good to be back, and we'll chat soon.

Catch ya later.

OH, WAIT, ALMOST FORGOT...

While discussing the topic of community (because we want to be a group where we can feel like we're part of something), we took a test called the DISC test. In this test, you answer a couple of quick questions that help to easily classify you, and then learn about what type of person you are, what motivates you, and how you inter-relate with the other people in your group. According to the questions asked, I ended up in the "C" section (no pun intended). My wife was in the "S" section. As the speaker spoke, my wife kept looking at me and telling me that I was not in the right place.

C's are analytical, concerned, accurate, orderly, and systematic. This almost completely fails to describe me. C's are concerned with being right, are obsessed with perfecting things, and are rigid and conservative because they focus on what has worked in the past to help them solve the problems of present and future. I am rigid and conservative, and tend to think of myself as logical in how I come to conclusions, but I agreed with my wife that although I have some C tendencies, I was supposed to be somewhere else. Where? We decided I'm an "I".

I's are optimistic, entertaining, people-oriented, and need recognition. This sounds about right. They are also interested in meeting results, but not interested in process, and are likely to forget details in trying to get things done. They are impulsive. Again, bingo. Basically, I'm an attention whore, and thus my blogue is making more sense to me.

Take the DISC test and see what you are. It's interesting, and it's a lot easier than other personality tests...