Camp Calumet: A "Missional" Faith Community

So as many folks I speak regularly with know, I'm in the midst of writing my "approval essay," which means I'm desperately trying to finish the really long assignment (roughly twenty pages) that I have to write before going to a final interview with folks in New England where we'll discern whether or not I should be a pastor.

This year's prompts for the approval essay are all questions about "missional leadership." In less churchy language, this means leadership that inspires folks in churches to get out in the world, spread the gospel and help other folks out rather than sitting around arguing about what new furniture to buy, etc. Luckily, the prompt also states, "this theme is motivated by a desire for a deep and rich conversation about the church and its participation in God's mission." So, I figure it'd be pretty darn missional of me to share my writings thus far, in order to spark wider conversation outside of just the folks I'll be meeting with a couple months from now. What follows is the first of three parts of my essay, and its specifically about a "formative faith community that has helped shape your understanding of missional leadership." I decided to write about Camp Calumet Lutheran in Freedom, NH.  Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Despite the task ahead of me, I feel immensely blessed as I embark upon writing my approval essay.  At the end of a powerful, affirming, even life-changing year at the Lutheran Office for World Community (LOWC) and Saint Peter’s Church in New York, I absolutely craved the opportunity to break away from the hustle of city life.  I thus decided to head up to northern New England for two weeks of time with friends, hiking in my home mountains and thereby beginning to unpack my internship experience.  While things were already going great, this processing time took an even better turn when I bumped into some of the more senior staff from Camp Calumet Lutheran in New Hampshire.

After catching up on each other’s summers, we got to talking about an international staff member seeking political asylum here in the United States.  Given my work this year on immigration issues at both Saint Peter’s and LOWC, we decided I should spend a couple days at camp both dialoging with that staff member and writing this essay.  So now I’m here, sitting in the dining hall of the camp I spent nearly a decade growing, working and serving at.  At one end of the room an older woman joyfully dances about as she sets up for a coming meal.  At the other, a group of young refugees laugh and hang out, talking really loudly in a bunch of different languages. In the middle of the room, two junior counselors Skype home to their friends in high school about “the best summer ever” that will soon come to a close.

I relay this story not take up space in a really long essay, or in a vain attempt to bolster my people watching credentials, but rather to describe what a truly missional faith community looks like.  What makes Camp Calumet a missional faith community?  Whether they intellectually know it or not, most of the folks here, staff, campers and others guests alike, quite visibly feel the Triune God at work not only in their own lives, but in the life of the wider Calumet community.  Teaching His disciples about the Trinity in John 16: 12 - 15, Christ states:

I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.  When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.  He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you.  All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you (NRSV).

Through such teaching Christ proclaims the profoundly good news to His disciples, both now and two thousand years ago, that not even God Herself can be alone.  God can only do Her work in Holy Community, the very work that lovingly gathers us up into missional community with God and one another.  When the folks at Calumet experience the good news of God’s act of liberating love in community, its readily apparent that they can’t help but respond, all according to their given vocations.  And whether it is through talking with friends at home over Skype, joyfully setting up dinner, creatively discerning how to leverage new opportunities or welcoming in people who the world has turned away, the folks at Calumet carry out Christian mission in a way that’s highly contextual, trusting the Spirit to guide them into truth amidst the chaotic change of our contemporary world.

I spent much of the past day here talking with staff of all ages about their experiences of missional leadership (using less churchy language) in order to help jog my own memory.  After sharing funny and profound stories over lunch, meeting a bunch of fantastic new counselors and going on a great sailing trip with two now senior counselors I trained years ago, I eventually identified two specific lessons I learned about missional leadership during my many summers at Calumet: 1) selflessness is only sustainable in community and 2) leadership means creating spaces for disciples to grow into leaders themselves.

Selflessness is only sustainable in community... The scene is a summer night in late June, 2002, with a bunch of young adults sitting around a fire on really uncomfortable benches, or if you were lucky, a creaky camp chair.  Earlier that day I, along with thirty-two other fifteen and sixteen year olds, had made a long trek up I-95 to camp in the back of our parents’ mini-vans for the beginning of an eight-week session of camp counselor training.  One kid showed up with a clothes trunk that looked like a coffin.  Another guy spent a couple hours sprinting through the campsite with a football.  Everyone was trying to establish an identity for themselves. It was a truly bizarre day, but around the campfire that evening, things quickly got serious once we started learning about “camper comes first,” or CCF, Calumet’s central organizing principal of putting the needs of campers and other guests ahead of your own.  I came to learn the most important thing one does during trainee summer is figure out how to live into this concept, and for someone like me who was more interested in hanging out with friends and chasing girls than selflessly serving others, such a task did not come easy.

Eventually after years of growing and working at Calumet, I thought I understood the concept of selfless service quite well.  It was only many summers later though in 2008 when I realized the other half of the lesson, the part that makes selfless service truly missional.  This aspect is reflected in one of my absolutely favorite Bible passages, Ecclesiastes 4: 9 - 12:

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.  For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help.  Again, if two lie together, they keep warm; but how can one keep warm alone?  And though one might prevail against another, two will withstand one.  A threefold cord is not quickly broken (NRSV).

In the summer of 2008 I graduated on the precipice of the Great Recession, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, an important relationship was ending and the doctors thought I had thyroid cancer too.  One night in early August I found out my mother’s cancer had metastasized, and the next morning, despite being assigned as a counselor that week, I could barely function without bursting into tears at breakfast.  A close friend on staff offered to take my campers for a couple hours so I could sit, pray and get my head together.  At first my pride got in the way, but eventually my friend convinced me that to truly put my campers’ needs first, I needed to take care of myself.

It seems like a simple lesson, but it’s a profound one... no matter how great you are, you cannot shoulder the burdens of Christian mission on your own.  Missional leadership thus means cultivating faith communities where folks of diverse callings, gathered up by the Triune God, support each other as they engage in selfless service, for the sake of the Gospel.  Even God cannot work alone... He only works in Holy Community and more often than not chooses to work through apostles, evangelists and all types of disciples.  If God cannot work alone, no matter how much our original sin may tell us otherwise, how can we?  Engaging the way of the cross, we must recognize selfless service is only sustainable in community.

Missional leadership also means creating spaces for disciples to grow into leaders themselves.  I first learned this humbling but important lesson in the summer of 2010 while working with thirty-four fifteen and sixteen year old counselors-in-training (CITs) as they discovered how to become leaders themselves.  I went into that summer super pumped; I had wanted to be trainer ever since I was a CIT, and it was finally going to happen.  After working at Calumet for so many summers, I had much experience to share, and as I was about to enter seminary the following fall, I felt extremely qualified.  Furthermore, I perceived a bit of decline at Calumet over the preceding years, and this was my chance to turn things around by training a new group of amazing counselors!

If only I had read Exodus 18: 13 - 23 beforehand, I would have been saved a lot of soul searching that summer:

The next day Moses sat as judge for the people, while the people stood around him from morning until evening. When Moses’ father-in-law saw all that he was doing for the people, he said, ‘What is this that you are doing for the people? Why do you sit alone, while all the people stand around you from morning until evening?’ Moses said to his father-in-law, ‘Because the people come to me to inquire of God. When they have a dispute, they come to me and I decide between one person and another, and I make known to them the statutes and instructions of God.’ Moses’ father-in-law said to him, ‘What you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out, both you and these people with you. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone. Now listen to me. I will give you counsel, and God be with you! You should represent the people before God, and you should bring their cases before God; teach them the statutes and instructions and make known to them the way they are to go and the things they are to do. You should also look for able men among all the people, men who fear God, are trustworthy, and hate dishonest gain; set such men over them as officers over thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens. Let them sit as judges for the people at all times; let them bring every important case to you, but decide every minor case themselves. So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you. If you do this, and God so commands you, then you will be able to endure, and all these people will go to their home in peace’ (NRSV).

I remember one stark conversation with a close friend on staff lamenting how it didn’t feel like I was doing much that summer.  Sure, I could give the trainees basic tips about leading conversations or demonstrate how to clean up a wet-bed, but on the whole, it seemed like most of the folks I was working with were already ready to be great counselors... they just needed a little time and the right environment to fully grow into that calling.  The gardening analogy for missional leadership is certainly overused, but my experience training new counselors in 2010 taught me its largely accurate.  Like Moses in the Exodus passage above, I found there was not a great deal of active ‘doing’ or gifting of knowledge in leading.  Instead, leading is much more about simply cultivating spaces where disciples can grow into the leaders God has intended them to be.  Perhaps the most poignant conversation I had today at Calumet was with a young adult who talked about how Church as an extremely hierarchal institution throughout much of its history.  He contrasted this with Calumet’s more missional model of leadership, where power is shared and the focus is not about what a single individual is doing. Rather, Calumet focuses on what God is doing through a community of growing leaders.  Missional leadership means creating spaces for disciples to grow into leaders themselves.

As I stated earlier, when the folks at Calumet experience the good news of God’s act of liberating love in community, its readily apparent that they can’t help but respond, all according to their given vocations.  Given that Calumet has proven such a formative place in my development as a missional leader, its follows that I believe empowering missional leadership in others primarily means cultivating faith communities where the gospel is experienced in ALL its forms.  Luther does a great job of laying out all the ways we experience the gospel in the Smalcald Articles:

We now want to return to the gospel, which gives guidance and help against sin in more that one way, because is extravagantly rich in his grace: first, through the spoken word, in which the forgiveness of sins is preached to the whole world... second, through baptism; third, through the holy Sacrament of the Altar; fourth, through the power of the keys and also through the mutual conversation and consolation of brothers and sisters (Kolb and Wengert, Book of Concord, 319).

The gospel, the good news of God’s act of liberating love in Jesus Christ, is really, really awesome!  Not only is the gospel really awesome, but it also frees folks to serve their neighbors and their world, or in other words, to act missionally.  Why then would one not want to cultivate faith communities where the gospel is experienced as much and in as many ways as possible?

In my experience, most pastors know how to perform a baptismal rite, know how to preside over the Eucharist and many can give a pretty decent sermon.  Where congregations often fail however is the fourth way we experience the gospel; they don’t cultivate strong faith communities where “members” and those outside the church walls alike can engage in mutual conversation and consolation.  If there’s one thing Camp Calumet is good at, its cultivating just that sort of missional community, through strong and fun Bible study, culturally aware mentorship and profound discussion on the shores of Lake Ossipee.  Lutherans deeply believe that all folks, not just pastors and other “religious professionals” are called to God given vocations.  Having learned missional leadership at Camp Calumet, I will follow its model of cultivating communities where the good news of God’s act of liberating love in Jesus Christ is experienced in all its forms, thereby inspiring folks to grow into and missionally live out their unique callings.

Dustin is currently in his final year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, having recently completed a year as Vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in New York City. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 5): Hiking Paths and Moments of Transfiguration

What follows is part five of a five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here, part two here, part three here and part four here.

From Zeacliff in early morning fog, August 2012.

It's good to be almost done with this thing... it took me over eight years to hike all of New Hampshire's forty-eight four thousand foot mountains, and at a number of points, it felt like it might take nearly as long to write this essay.  But here am I, sitting in Queens nursing a coffee and looking at a blank screen nearly six months after summitting Mount Carrigain, trying to figure out how to conclude... how to write part five of five.  My general thesis when I started this whole thing, as stated in part one was: "the paths we trod in life simply serve as vehicles through which we realize the growth (or potential for growth) already stirring within and around us," an idea I still agree with.  Another key point I made in part one concerned the presence of God in the mountains: "Unfortunately, while I often marveled at Her handiwork during my mountaintop experiences, God Herself didn't seem to really want to show up... or at least it felt that way."

The path up Bondcliff, August 2012.

While I did find God over my many hikes in the Whites, although as typical, She didn't show up where I expected.  And actually, it shouldn't be all that surprising that God was around in the mountains... think about how much Jesus liked hanging out on them.  The Sermon on the Mount was well, preached from a mount.  On the night of his betrayal, shortly before his death and resurrection, Jesus visits the Mount of Olives.  Perhaps the most amazing story of Christ on the mountaintop however is the The Transfiguration.  Referenced in three of the four canonical gospels (and perhaps referenced in the other), the transfiguration is the story of Jesus taking Peter, James and John up an unnamed mountain and becoming ablaze in a bright light, shining with all the glory of God.  Elijah and Moses then decide to show up as well.  From one perspective, its the moment where God most revels Herself in Christ to humankind.  Predictably humankind however can't handle God in all Her glory... Peter tries to control the situation and asks to make three tents for Elijah, Moses and Jesus so the moment can last longer.  Before Peter really even finishes making his proposition, God proclaims, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”  The disciples fall to the ground, and when they get up, the moment is over... Elijah and Moses are gone and Jesus is back to normal.

What I've realized, is that in a more limited sense, moments of transfiguration happen all the time in the mountains.  They're fleeting and impossible to seek out yes, but they're there, and for me at least, these moments of transfiguration don't come from gazing at the beauty of the forest or far reaching vistas... they take place in momentary and miraculous connection with the Other.  Said in less theological student language, I experience the glory of God in the mountains in moments of deep connection with another human being.  Christ is not only the intermediary between humankind and God, but also between us all... the brief moments when we see Christ in others are the only times when we can truly connect, when we can truly know what another person is all about.  And for me, these moments of transfiguration, these moments when the glory of God even in a limited way shows up in the face of another human being, are most likely to take place while atop the high places of creation.

Atop Bondcliff, August 2012.

Working with Calumet campers at the Mizpah Springs Hut, hiking the Southern Presidentials with a loved one and summiting Mount Isolation with a best friend... there were transfiguration moments on those paths.  Taking a short stroll to the top of Cannon Mountain after my first week of seminary with another close friend, essentially climbing up a waterfall with three folks to bag Moosilauke during one of the best months of my life, conquering the horseshoe of the Northern Presidentials with my brother... there were transfiguration moments on those paths.  And while hiking alone but also while waiting out a late summer storm in the Guyot Shelter with two middle-aged women who couldn't have been more in love and while speaking with an eighty year old man near the summit of Owl's Head who had just bagged his last 4000 footer with his adult son... there were transfiguration moments on those paths.

I had many moments of transfiguration while hiking the many paths and summits of New Hampshire's White Mountains, moments where I saw the glory of God in the face of the Other.  And all these moments of transfiguration helped me realize the growth that was taking place within and all around me.  And because of all these moments of transfiguration, I am truly blessed.

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Calumet Yellows Reunion Sermon: Rowdy Faith in A Rowdy God

What follow's is a rough manuscript of a sermon I preached this past Sunday at Camp Calumet Lutheran during a reunion retreat weekend for the previous summer's teenage campers.  There's a few inside jokes throughout the text, but hopefully they won't be too distracting.  For a full Twitterfeed from the event, click here.  For more info about our curriculum for the weekend, click here.  I'd love to here what you think!

So, you may have heard at some point that we’ve been live tweeting throughout the Yellows 2012 Reunion. There were some pretty good tweets out on the tweetosphere this weekend… on one end of the spectrum we had some about exploring our faith. On the other, we had some about the smellyness of our farts… all of these were good tweets. That said, my favorite tweet of the weekend was one of the first… it was written by Rachael. She was probably heading back to her cabin Friday night when she wrote something along the lines of “that was a rowdy devos.” A rowdy devos… a rowdy devotionals… who would have thought! Those two words don’t usually go together, but Rachael was definitely right… while we were learning about each other’s faith and playing people bingo and singing a bunch of camp songs, things got pretty rowdy.

[ROWDY SONG INTERRUPTION]

Ya know, sitting by the fire last night, thinking about the weekend and going over the Bible texts for today, I eventually realized why I liked Rachael’s tweet so much… it was filled with really, really good news. And that good news is that we have a faith that can make things get a little rowdy… we have a rowdy faith. In fact, God Herself was getting a little rowdy in today’s gospel story. It’s a pretty well known one… three wise men, or sometimes we call them the three kings, came from the east, or from basically really far away, and told King Herod they came to worship the baby Jesus because they were led by a star in the sky. Herod wasn’t a big fan of baby Jesus, so he tried to use the wise men to find Jesus and kill him, but luckily, Herod’s plan didn’t work… Instead, the wise men followed the star all to Bethlehem; they knelt down and worshiped Jesus, and eventually, they went back home by a different road.

Now, I imagine you’re wondering, how was God getting so rowdy in the story? The answer begins with the fact that God didn’t put that star in the sky for some priests in Jerusalem or for King Herod… She put that star in the sky for three wise men from far away, which means three folks that were far outside God’s old covenant with Israel. By putting that star in the sky for the three wise men, God proclaimed the good news that all are welcomed, that all are saved and that all are loved through Christ. You see, for all the religious authorities and King Herod, this news would have been completely unexpected… they thought the Messiah was only coming for Israel… by shaking things up, God was getting pretty rowdy.

[ROWDY SONG INTERRUPTION]

You see my friends, we have a rowdy God, and we have a rowdy faith, and that is amazingly good news. And you know what, we learned a bit this weekend that at least in some ways, we have a rowdy church too… As Lutherans we have the largest charitable organization in the United States, Lutheran Social Services, shaking things up and helping folks out… that’s pretty rowdy. Through it's Young Adults in Global Mission Program, the ELCA is sending about fifty young adults, some just a couple years older than you all, abroad ever year to shake things up and help folks out… that’s pretty rowdy too.  We also have offices at the international, national and state levels advocating for a more just society.  Of course, our church needs to do more… the world is changing really, really fast, and as faith communities we’ve got to change too. In our world, in this time and place, the church can’t look like it used to. We talked a lot this weekend about what Calumet means to us as well, and for me at least, by providing such a powerful model of serving others, of loving others and of worshiping God in fun and life giving ways, Camp Calumet is one place that represents the change we need to make as a church… it’s a place shaking things up with a rowdy faith in a rowdy God.

The good news of the rowdy things God is doing through Christ… that’s what today’s gospel message is all about and it’s the same good news that Christians all over the world are celebrating today. You see, today’s a very special church holiday called Epiphany… in many Spanish-speaking congregations it’s actually a bigger celebration than Christmas. On Epiphany, the reason we read the story of the wise men is that when God put that star up in the sky, guiding folks from far away to the newborn Jesus in Bethlehem, the good news that through Christ, God loves, accepts and cares for all us was proclaimed. So my friends, as you go home on this Epiphany Sunday, celebrate and share the good news of our rowdy faith in a rowdy God… a God that loves you and you and you… a rowdy God that loves all of us, whether we’re young or old, gay or straight, black or white, rich or poor, whether we’re outgoing or shy or even a weird kid that loves cats, fireworks and margarine. In short my friends, celebrate God’s good news, and get rowdy.

[LOUD, ROWDY ENDING SONG ABOUT GOD’S LOVE]

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin really likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

Calumet Yellows Reunion Weekend Update

I've been amazingly blessed to have the opportunity to help out as chaplain at Camp Calumet Lutheran in New Hampshire, where over sixty teenagers and former Yellows campers from the previous summer have reunited for an awesome weekend of fun, friends and exploring their faith.  The theme of the weekend has been the "The Best of Calumet," with gourmet grilled cheese for lunch, favorite songs from the summer and a bunch of awesome option time activities like tubing on the toboggan run, a bonfire on the beach and an epic game of broom-ball.  Earlier in the day, we talked about what Calumet made to us and made time capsules to reopen the coming summer.  Especially as many of the campers will be entering into one of Calumet's leadership programs for future staff this coming summer, it ended up being a really important conversation.  All the kids and counselors have been "live-tweeting" the retreat on Twitter using the hashtag #CCL.  Just a couple awesome things they've come up with:


@bishophazelwood Having deep conversations of our faith #CCL


Sledding was the fabest thing I've ever done @djericpike #CCL #yellows2012 #yellowsreunion2012

There are many different types of love and it means many different things to many different people #ccl

To check out our whole Twitter conversation, either search for #CCL or check out our Storify page.

In terms of some of the stuff I've been working on, we've been talking about ways we respond to God's love, types of service we do, the world we live in, and how it all relates to our identity as people of faith.  Campers have been tweeting the bishop and presiding bishop about what they've been talking about as well.  Gotta go get my costume ready for a theme dinner, but I'll write more soon.

God's peace,
Dustin 

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 4) Mount Zealand, Mount Bond and Mount Twin

Given the tragic shootings that took place in Newtown, Connecticut yesterday, it's hard to think about much else.  After a day of shared tears and prayers though, I needed a bit of escape, so I decided to write...  What follows is part four of a five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here, part two here and part three here.

As I awoke to a fading blanket of stars in the early morning hours of August 25th, 2012, I was definitely ready for a bit of a walk...  With only a few days left of what had seemed a nearly endless summer, it was time to finish my list of the New Hampshire's big mountains, but in order to do so, I needed to put in at least twenty-two miles to bag Mount Zealand and the three peaks of Mount Bond before heading back to my car.  An optional exit route over Mount Twin's two peaks beckoned in the distance as well, if I felt confident enough that a friend could pick me up at the trailhead and give me a lift back to my car.  Back in the real world away from familiar landscape of the White Mountains, things had certainly changed from a year earlier when I last set off on a very long hike, that time to conquer the northern presidentials with my brother (see part three).  Having a new serious love in my life and after finishing a second year of seminary, I suppose I was year older, a year wiser and certainly less lonely, but also less happy.

A beaver pond off Zealand Trail, 2012.

My previous summer, life had new, a blank canvas sort of feel as I finally broke out of the darkness following my mother's death.  This summer, as I prepared to set off for my internship year in NYC, the walls were closing in.  It felt like young adulthood and the freedom associated with that period of life was coming to end, something I wasn't quite yet ready to accept... the beginning of a lifelong career as a pastor, marriage, kids maybe... I spent much of the summer seeing these things approaching in the distance and thus cramming in as much adventure as possible.  After an amazing month spent hiking the Colorado Rockies and a visit to Yellowstone, I returned to New Hampshire determined to finish up its infamous list of forty-eight 4000 foot mountains.  Unfortunately, as the objective wasn't enjoying God's good creation but checking names off a list, many of my hikes were rushed and done solo... more like a two month long scavenger hunt than a series of beautiful journeys.

Early morning on Zeacliff, 2012.

My long walk over Zealand, the Bonds and eventually the Twins was a solo hike as well, and given that I had hiked three other mountains over the previous three days, I was already tired before even hitting the trail.  In order to cover the necessary twenty-two miles before sunset, I started out a bit before sunrise, running the first two and a half miles of the Zealand Trail through an absolutely beautiful valley.  This part of the trail was familiar terrain (my favorite in the Whites actually), so outside of a quick water stop to chat with a nice older couple I nearly ran into, things were great but uneventful all the way to the beginning of the Twinway up to Zealand Falls Hut.  After a very short but steep climb, I arrived at the hut right as some early risers were eating breakfast.  I took about five minutes to chat with a young father about the joys of hiking with children (no sarcasm intended) and then kept moving onto what would be brand new trail for the rest of my journey.  Completing another quick but tough mile, I arrived at my favorite point of the whole trail, an absolutely epic overlook off of Zeacliff.  With the morning fog billowing out of the valley below me, I couldn't have been happier.

Zealand Summit Sign, 2012.

I said a quick prayer thanking God for Her creation and the gift of a day to enjoy it, and then quickly rushed off instead of staying awhile to fully take in the breathtaking scene... needed to keep on time, of course.  Another mile and a half later saw me bag the day's first mountain: Zealand.  Although its entirely wooded summit offered no views for my effort, it does arguably feature the best summit sign in the White Mountains.  Not too long after leaving Zealand's summit I made it to Mount Guyot, which sort of marked a point of no return for my hike.  A long ridge jutting sharply south from Guyot into the heart of the Pemigewasset Wilderness, Mount Bond's three peaks are some of the most remote of NH's four-thousand footers.  Surrounded by other mountains and miles of forest on all sides, it's also one of the most stunningly beautiful places in New England.  Folks tend to bag the Bonds on a overnight due to the distance, the beauty and the convenience of the nearby Guyot Campsite, but given my lack of gear and companions, a really long day hike had proved necessary.

Bondcliff from Mount Bond, 2012.

Making good time and actually getting some limited cellphone reception, I left a message for my friend to pick me up at the Mount Twin trailhead... he was planning on coming up to hike my final peak the next day (Carrigain), or so I thought, and thus I figured it wouldn't be much of a problem.  After bagging West Bond I made my way through a half mile of thin trees to the highest peak of Mount Bond, and boy, it was awesome!  Bond is one of the few summits in the Whites where you really can't see much human civilization due to its remoteness.  Furthermore, you've got the sharp knife-edge of Bondcliff straight ahead of you to the south... couldn't be more amazing really.  Unfortunately though, it seemed like clouds might be soon rolling in, and given that I didn't really want to get caught above treeline if it rained, I bound quickly back into the trees in order to reach Bondcliff's highpoint (another 4000 foot peak).

On Bondcliff, 2012.

By the time I ran the mile out to Bondcliff and back, it was starting to rain HARD... the sort of hard summer downpour that gets through even the best rain-gear, so I decided to seek shelter at the Guyot Campsite.  I was a bit nervous about doing so as it would cost me a bunch of time, but I simply couldn't make it back out over the open face of Guyot and Mount Twin in such weather.  Soaking wet, I spent about an hour munching granola in a small lean-to at the campsite.  Luckily, the older women I met early that morning had arrived and raised my spirits through telling about their own journey through the Whites together.  Although the rain eventually stopped, the clouds never seemed to burn off... as it was getting late, I had to decide whether to spend a very cold, wet night at the campsite or try to make it across Guyot and Twin in less than ideal weather.  With some persuasion from my two companions, I decided to go for it.  By the time I got back to Guyot, the weather had improved and the two miles across a shallow ridge to South Twin didn't seem all that foreboding... it should of though.  Not long after I made it to the open summit of South Twin, it started to thunder, but instead of thundering above me, it was pretty much AROUND me.

On Mount Guyot toward South Twin, 2012.

I didn't see any lightening really, but boy was I scared... I think I yelled for God to quit it or something with all the thunder, but She kept at it until I made it another mile and a half over North Twin's summit.  Completely aching after almost eighteen miles of hiking and emotionally exhausted after my near-death experience, I gingerly started limping my way down the home stretch of the North Twin Trail.  It was a bit after 5pm by then, so I tried to make the best time I could in order to rendezvous with my friend at the time I planned, but it was definitely slow going.  I eventually came upon a fellow named Ben, who turned out to be the best person in the world.  When I finally got to the trailhead, I heard the news my friend couldn't make it, but Ben, being the best person in the world, drove me over what would have been another ten or so miles of road back to my car... I'm pretty sure he was an angel or something.  Bruised and exhausted, I set up my tent at Zealand Campground and ate a cold can of baked beans, feeling proud of my journey that day... I had covered over twenty-two miles and seven of NH's big peaks after all.  I realized though that after completing my list on Mount Carrigain the next day, I was finished with going fast and especially finished with going solo.  I discovered that I had grown into a place where the beauty of God's creation needed to be shared rather than experienced alone.  I'd like to think I came upon a new understanding of the whole "where two or more are gathered" thing Jesus was talking about this past summer, and I hope to never forget that discovery.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 3): A Northern Presidential Traverse

What follows is part three of the five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here and part two here.

Sitting in a late-night Starbucks in Queens, my northern presidential traverse in New Hampshire's White Mountains couldn't seem further away... with required-Santa-headgear-tasseled baristas,  purposefully tacky holiday decorations and sombre Elliot Smith tunes pumping over the stereo speakers, the coffeehouse seems wrapped in a warm snuggie of self-aware commercial melancholy.  It's entirely self-reflection inducing and largely familiar in a city that seems dead-set on exuding just that feeling in anticipation of a long, cold winter.

On the presidential range in the summer of '07.

If one hones in though on that notion of reflection in the face of cresting anticipation, my tramp over Mount Madison, Mount Adams, Mount Jefferson and Old Man Washington two summers ago was quite similar.  The seven years between my first summit of NH 4000 footer on Mount Pierce and my day on hadn't treated me that well.  Then a starry eyed high school grad burning with optimism, I had grown into a weathered hospital chaplain.. while my college years at the George Washington University in Washington, DC were largely good ones, near the end of my time there the clouds had certainly rolled in.  My mother and I had been diagnosed with cancer roughly at the same time during the spring of 2008, and while I would eventually receive news of my misdiagnosis with relief, my mom wouldn't fair so lucky... she ended up passing away soon after Christmas that year.  On top of these problems, facing a job search during the worst days of the Great Recession proved difficult, although I eventually was able to a land a less than enjoyably but fairly well paying financial position.  Eventually I figured out I'd like to attend seminary and become a Lutheran pastor, thus beginning what I'd consider a recovery period after the troubles of '08.

Zealand Trail, 2012.

As my brother and I pulled into Dolly Copp campground to prep for our hike two summers ago, it felt like that "recovery period" was ending... I had slowly regained my confidence in the intervening three years and began coming to terms with the anger I felt at the Divine for everything inflicted on my family and I in 2008.  My renewed sense of confidence had emerged in a quieter, calmer manner than that of the innocently joyful days of my youth, but that didn't mean I had lost my playful sense of competition at all... which meant that although my brother Darren had never hiked in the White Mountains before, I was taking him on an introductory march over one of toughest trails in the state.  Darren was probably in better shape than I was, so I knew he could handle it, but I also knew he had no idea what he was about to get into.  Since he seemed to always think himself tougher than me, I figured it was about time to put his notion to the test.  On the other hand, I felt deeply satisfied to be spending a long day hiking with my brother.  We had only become close after my mother's death, so I considered the trip a celebration of our new found closeness... the dynamics of brotherly relationships are interesting, right?

Near the summit of Mount Guyot, 2012.

Starting out around 6:30am, we made okay time up three and a half miles of the Daniel Webster Scout Trail, although Darren was lagging a bit more than I expected.  Once we got out of the trees near Osgood Junction though, he quickly picked up his pace.  Although we had hiked fairly quietly (the stoic awkwardness of two brothers who have not been close still lingered between us), once we attained the ridge, that quickly changed... It was a bright sunny day, and having never been above treeline before, Darren absolutely loved it, yelling out that he couldn't wait to tell his buddies back home in CT about the trip.  The bummer though was that he thought this was near the peak of our adventure, so when I pointed across the Great Gulf at Washington and told him we were following the whole horseshoe-shaped ridge-line all the way around to its summit, Darren wasn't too happy we had that long to go.

After quickly bagging Mount Madison, we headed down into the col to rest awhile and had a late breakfast at Madison Hut.  As familial awkwardness retook us, there was some brief talk about the views, a conversation to which my vain attempt at sounding like an expert about the AMC hut system made a grand addition.  Heading out of the col we passed by Star Lake and joined a large number of hikers heading up to bag Mount Adams.  With Darren once again lagging near the summit, I finally came out and asked him why he was going so slow... that's when an amazing blessing came in the form of a heavy gallon jug of iced-tea Darren thought would be a good idea to bring along on the hike.  As he pulled the jug out of his day-pack and dumped the full gallon out on the side of the trail, swearing his head off all the while, I immediately started chiding him about his mistake, as any good older brother would.  He remained pretty upset with me for the next hour or so, but event completely broke the ice between us- we realized it was okay to be vulnerable around each other for the first time in years, and our relationship has never again descended into silence.

Mount Washington, 2006.

We proceeded to the top of Mount Adams quite quickly, and after descending into Edmunds Col for a short rest, we hastened to summit Mount Jefferson... the ice-tea had definitely slowed us down, and I was increasingly worried we might not make it out to Pinkham Notch before sunset.  I don't remember much about the mad-dash across the final 2.5 miles of ridge line from Jefferson, past Mount Clay and up to the summit of Washington, outside of all the brand new curse-words I learned as Darren yelled most of the way.  We eventually made it to the final summit, and astounding all the motorists who had came up on the auto-road, triumphantly pointed across the Great Gulf toward Osgood Junction to indicate where we started.  Luckily I picked up a flashlight in the summit gift shop, as making our way down Lionhead's as it got dark without one (Tucks was closed for restoration work) would have been less than ideal.  With the awkward gulf between us now gone, on the ride home we were able to reflect about our mom, our emotional recovery process after her passing, and how much we greatly looked toward the future.

God's peace,
Dustin

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.

NH 4000 Footer Essay (Pt. 2): Overnight at Mizpah

What follows is part two of the five-part essay I'm writing for the NH 4000 Footer Club.  You can find part one here.

My very first trip up one of NH's big peaks took place in 2004 as a young camp counselor taking teenagers to the AMC's Mizpah Spring Hut for Calumet Lutheran Ministries.  Before that first summer I hiked up to Mizpah, the outdoors in general hadn't really ever been my thing.  I had technically been a Boy Scout for years, and even had recently earned my Eagle Scout Badge, but campouts had always been more about building fires, chopping down trees and generally screwing around with a ragtag group of friends than actually enjoying any real hiking through God's creation.  I had also been a camper at Calumet for a few years and counselor the prior summer as well, but even then I was more interested in getting a great tan or flirting with girls than soaking up the untrampled beauty of the White Mountains... when possible, I'd always go on the easy canoe trip with a few campers rather than a hike.

Boy I was goofy.

Upon first hearing I had to help lead an overnight to Mizpah, I was pretty bummed... the trip up the Crawford Path was technically categorized as one of the "hard" hikes Calumet offered, and it additionally meant two days away from my "epic love" that summer.  I was also at nearly the pinnacle of my neo-flower child phase, and thus had great concern about a long day of sweaty hiking messing up my "sweet" bleached-blonde locks.  Eventually though I came to terms with my fate and even heard from a few of my fellow counselors that it was amazing trip. The moss covered forest floor looked like some sort of fairy garden and water from the spring was supposedly the tastiest in the world.

Following my usual practice that summer, I fell asleep during the bus ride to the trailhead despite being responsible for campers.  I awoke as the bus pulled into Crawford Notch near the AMC's Highland Center to an absolutely beautiful valley all around me... I had never, ever even come to close to seeing such wondrous creation during my Boy Scout trips.  As we headed up the Crawford Path, I quickly realized that it wasn't all that bad, even with the heavy pack on my back.  The kids that usually sign up for the hard hike at Calumet tend to actually like the outdoors, and that definitely seemed to be the case on this trip.

A similar "fairy-garden" on Wildcat Mountain.

Right around hitting the Mizpah Cut-off, things seemed to flatten out pretty substantially AND the fairy garden deal started happening.  Long before getting to a summit, seeing such lush, beautiful forest for the first time already made the trip well worth my effort.  Soon enough though we reached Mizpah Hut and I was once again astounded, this time that such things existed up in the White Mountains.  The clearing around the hut was filled with birds that seemingly lacked any fear of people and I specifically remember hearing Uncle John's Band being played by the hut crew as they started preparing dinner.  Calumet couldn't afford quite such plush accommodations for our group however, so we instead found a couple platforms at the nearby Nauman Tentsite.

Eisenhower, Pierce and Jackson from Mount Monroe.

Once we set up our tents on the assigned platforms, the trip's head counselor quickly suggested we take the "optional" Webster-Cliff trail up to the summit of Mount Pierce.  Most of the campers seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea, so we grabbed our Nalgenes and headed up a decidedly steep (although short) trail to the summit.  Despite the tough grade, I felt hungry to reach that summit... a feeling I had never felt before, and I remember it sort of surprising me.  

It didn't take our group too long to summit, and since most of us had never been above treeline before, there was a strong sense of camaraderie through our shared experience.  I felt honored to be part of that moment with my campers and fellow counselors, and we stayed above treeline for much of the afternoon.  Mount Eisenhower and even Washington seemed like a close hike away and  I remember wishing we could keep ascending up the Crawford Path to the top of New England... the whole world seemed in front of us, all-embracing and filled with adventure.  Being a sentimental fellow, I quickly realized how this reflected my own life situation as recent high-school grad soon to go off to college for the first time.

After heading back into the trees and down to our tents, I suppose we had dinner, told a few stories and went to bed... I frankly don't remember much more about the trip.  Looking back on it though, that trail up Mount Pierce helped me recognize two things.  First, I realized that much like the ecstasy of looking forward to the summit of Washington for the first time, the joy I felt during my last summer before college, the joy of having a bright, untarnished future ahead of me, was fleeting.  Second, I comprehended the great hunger for future mountaintop experiences within me for the first time.

Dustin is currently a vicar at the Lutheran Office for World Community and Saint Peter's Church in Manhattan, having recently completed his second year of a Masters of Divinity program at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia. While seeking ordination in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, his focus is on the intersection between worship, service and justice building in de-centralized faith communities unencumbered by a traditional church building. In his free time, Dustin likes playing frisbee, hiking and pretending to know how to sing.