I Have Seen Him In The Watch-Fires Of A Hundred Circling Camps...

When Jessi and I had gone back to the tent to drop my stuff, she handed me an envelope. "It’s from my mom," she said. Inside was a letter surrounding some cash, that read, "Here’s to one more day on the road revisited!" I put my sunglasses on so Jessi wouldn’t see my tears.
"I’m the luckiest girl in the whole world," I thought for the hundred-thousandth time since April 29th.

I am, though. I may get lonely and bored with eating the same thing, but that’s a small price to pay to be able to travel and meet all of these people whose amazingness there aren’t words for. Reading Donna’s letter, all I wanted to do was to make her proud. I still do, I think about it every day. Being at the festival, I wanted so badly to have a good experience, even if I didn’t believe the same things. To do so, I had to make it my own.

Sitting in the Alive pit in the burning sun for hours and hours and hours gave me a chance to think about my Christian spiritual redemption.... or lack thereof. I asked most of the other kids around me about their experiences "being saved", and it sounded intriguing, but I couldn’t shake the idea of God as I see it - too big to comprehend.

See, when it comes to God, I’ve come to respect all religions and adopt the teachings of Ghandi. Ghandi once taught, and I paraphrase, "God is an elephant. People are flies around the elephant. There are many species of flies, and each occupies a different area of the elephant. One species gathers around the eye, and they think the eye of the elephant is God. Another species gathers around the tail, and they think the tail is God. Same with the foot, the ear, the trunk. None are wrong. All of the parts are parts of God. Yet the flies are too small to comprehend that God can be larger than merely one of the parts. It is the same with humans. We are too small to see the big picture, the big picture being the whole elephant that is God." (Again, I just totally paraphrased.)

Another problem - I’ve always felt like there must be some sort of Goddess to go along with God, like there is in Native American lore, and most pagan religions. (Interested? Check out any book by Sylvia Browne...) For instance, it takes a man and a woman to make a baby. Shouldn’t it follow, then, that it also takes two to create a world? Christianity seems, in many ways, threatened by the idea of dual entities, not to mention polytheism. But I just can’t align myself with any religion that promotes a strictly-masculine agenda. So as much as I tried to grasp the Christian idea of The Holy Trinity and The One True God, I just couldn’t. That didn’t stop me from trying, though. I was honestly excited to be at the festival, despite all the uber-Fundamentalist rhetoric flying around. I really wanted to have a good time even if I was on the outskirts of belief.

I asked two girls next to me if they were saved while we were waiting for a band called Thousand Foot Krutch to start. One was more animated than the other, saying, "Oh, yeah, for a couple years now!" She was pretty, about 16 and curvy, with dark hair and dark eyes.
"Were you parents born-again? Did they raise you to be saved?" I asked.
"No, no, we were raised Catholic! But my mom started to hate it a little and then we started going to a Baptist church. I liked it more because it wasn’t the same thing every week. There was always something different to talk about, y’know?"
"Yeah, I can understand that!" I said, remembering how the Catholic responses had remained seared in my brain for years.

Another boy, a little cutie with a faux-hawk named Josh, told me, "I was mixed up in a bad crowd, doing drugs and stuff. When I wanted to get clean, I started going to church with my parents. I got involved in the youth group at my church and was really surprised at first, because it was actually really fun! We mosh and rock out and listen to awesome music! And, seriously, when the music starts, you’re gonna be surprised too! We may be Christian, but we’re not boring!"
Jessi overheard him and chimed in, "Yeah, Christians are some of the hardest partiers!" Their enthusiasm was infectious. I was actually quite excited to hear what these bands could do.

Josh and I talked about my trip, how my interest in learning more about religion started only after I left and found myself meeting people who seemed "predestined", somehow put in my path for a reason. "It’s amazing what the Lord can do for you when you least expect it," he said. Christian God or not, I agreed.
"I know!" I exclaimed. "It’s amazing! It’s almost like I’ll be just minding my own business and then all of a sudden there’s this person that’s like, ‘Hi, I’m going to change your life now.’ And it happens almost every day! It’s incredible!" I thought of Jean, of Bonnie, Donna, Earl. Larry. Greg. Jessi. Brad. David. April. Each of them given to me, almost like a present, by some higher power, it seemed.

"I was saved here last year," Josh told me. "It was so amazing. My pastor put his hands on me, and everyone gathered around me in a circle. Then I felt it."
"What? What?" I asked, my eyes wide like he was telling a ghost story.
"The Holy Spirit! It was in my body! I felt it come up from my stomach and then into my throat and then the weirdest thing happened..."
"What?!"
"My pastor was speaking words and then out of nowhere I started saying the same words he was saying, as he was saying them!"
"Wow..." I said. "That’s awesome."
"Yeah", he said. "I’ve seen my pastor speak in tongues before, too."
(Okay, now this is the part where I manage to totally put my foot in my mouth. This is further proof that sometimes age doesn’t give you an advantage with thinking before you speak.)
"Yeah," I said. "But couldn’t he have just been going, ‘BLAHBEDEBLAHBLAHBLAH’, like that girl in the movie, ‘Saved!’"

Ooops.

Josh’s smile faded. A few other kids turned to stare at the blasphemist, the one who had dared to bring up the movie "Saved!". The proverbial needle scratched across the collective record that was any and all noise emanating from the pit. I was so fucked.

Luckily, I Saved! myself by quickly quipping, "I’m just kidding! I hated that movie!" Okay, it was a total lie, I love that movie, but when in Rome.... or when surrounded by a crowd of born-again Christians.

Josh recovered from my faux-pas and said, "You should come over to our campsite tonight! We’re going to have a fire and worship! I could have my youth pastor pray with you. You’re just a prayer away from knowing Jesus."
"I might do that," I said, meaning it. I didn’t know if it would help, but it would at least be nice.

Another girl, a stocky blonde with glasses, leaned over Josh to ask me, "Are you a cutter?" She pointed to my arms, which still bore deep scratches from my cousin Audrey’s cat, Tommy. Josh and a few other kids turned to stare at me, like they had when I had brought up the movie, but this time with looks of pity. I could only laugh.
"No, no, honey. I promise I’m not a cutter."
"Okay. Well, if you were, I could talk to you about that. I used to be a cutter."
"Well, thanks, hon, but I’m really not a cutter. It’s from a cat."
"Oh. Well, I used to cut myself. With razors." She kept going in that blessed way that teens do, how they let you in on a little too much information than is ordinarily acceptable. What I can’t figure out is, if they do it for attention or simply because they don’t know when to stop? Either way, she told me all about her life as a cutter.
"I would bring it back and forth across my arms, on the outside," she said, demonstrating.
"Um, uh-huh!" I tried to say brightly. What can you say to that?

I was saved when the emcee took the stage to introduce Thousand Foot Krutch, then the band took the stage quickly, riffing their guitars and beating the drums in a style not unlike Linkin Park. The rhythm guitar player actually doubled as a deejay on a touch-pad computer set-up.
They were actually really good! At that point they could have been horrible but at least they were human bodies on stage touching instruments and making sounds, quite preferable to just staring at a bunch of black amplifiers. Everyone in the pit started making fists and jumping around. There were actually people moshing for a minute, but the security guards broke it up - apparently the Alive Festival is a no-moshing, no-crowd surfing zone (thank God).

Jessi and I were front-and-almost-center and I used the chest-high fence to push off of and jump higher. I headbanged. I punched the air with my fist in time to the music. I rocked out for Jesus. (Well, for The God Elephant, actually. I decided to dedicate the songs in my head to an ambiguous higher power, just like I had in the car singing the Relient K songs.) I had an awesome time! I can honestly say, wow, I had fun at a Christian rock concert, beer tent or not! I felt like a kid again, transported back to so many HFStivals and Warped Tours in high school, jamming in the pit at a concert. Three cheers for not acting your age.

After Thousand Foot Krutch, a singer/songwriter named Joy Williams played. I actually loved her stuff! Loved. Seriously. She was awesome. Her stuff was more poppy than any of the other bands playing that day - think Aslyn meets Kelly Clarkson meets Shakira - and Jessi actually admitted that she didn’t like that style, she preferred the more punk/emo Christian music. She left to get water during Joy’s set, but I stayed, watching this tiny woman in awe. Her voice was powerful and her smile was beautiful but what really touched me was the chord progressions of her songs, coupled with the lyrics. She sang about being thankful for the blessings she’s been given and I looked around, astounded at the silly twists life can take and how I could go from a hospital bed in Los Angeles to the life I lead now. I also thought about Donna’s letter, tearing up again. Joy sang about how sometimes unanswered prayers can be the sweetest gifts and I sang along, lifting my face to the sun and knowing that I wouldn’t be there that day were it not for the heartbreaks and beatings I’d suffered beforehand. She sang about living life without fear and I smiled, remembering Insensitive Cincinnati Juice Bar Guy’s duress over my vagabond way of life. When Joy said, "We’re gonna do one more and then get out of here!", I shouted, "Awwwwwww!" I could have listened to her all day.

Another band took the stage after Joy Williams called The David Crowder Band, led by a man named, surprisingly enough, David Crowder. Okay, picture a hippie. Picture someone you’d see in the parking lot of a Phish concert selling hemp ankle bracelets, with a white-boy afro, long goatee, and John Lennon glasses. Picture that person wearing a baggy green t-shirt, trademark corderouys, and, of course, Birks. Now, picture that person singing songs about praising Jesus. That is David Crowder.
Josh turned to me and said, "This is the greatest worship band ever!"
"Are they hard like TFK?" I asked him.
"No, no, they’re not really hard, they’re more... kind of....like... I don’t know how to describe it, but they’re awesome, you’ll see!"

They were. The music was unlike anything I’d ever heard, a blend of happy-hippie tempos with the lyrics of hymns. There was a lot of audience participation where we had to scream or sing along to the words being broadcast on the two giant screens flanking the stage. Again, I put Jesus aside and sang my songs to my Elephant God and/or Goddess. The sound in the pit was too loud for anyone to hear me change the lyrics from Him to Them or It. Still, it was fabulous, just a chance to let go and jump around and wave my arms and shout and be thankful to be alive. Who can argue with that?

After The David Crowder Band, there was a break from the music and dancing. A man took the stage and began telling jokes. He was actually quite funny and for a moment I forgot he was a minister. But about 15 minutes into his spiel, he put the jokes aside. "I want everyone to bow their heads for a moment so we can take this time to pray. But for those of you in the audience who don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus, I want you to look at me right now. Raise your head and look at me." I did. He kept going, instructing us to ask Jesus to come into our hearts.

I looked right at this man. I listened to every word he said. I understood the language. I understood the meaning of the words. But deep down inside, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to accept Christ. Jesus and I have too many differing opinions.

I started to cry, covering my face with my hands so no one would see. I didn’t cry out of fear or joy. I cried because here I was, smack dab in the middle of a Jesus-Fest, sweet little Jessi right next to me was hoping that I would be saved, and I couldn’t do it. I felt guilty. Like I was letting her down.

Jessi noticed me sniffling and put her arms around me. I looked to my left, at Josh, who was watching me, smiling, fully believing I was crying to purge the sin from my heart and accept the Lord. The other people in the crowd noticed too and they all laid their hands on me. It just made it worse - more people to disappoint when I say I feel nothing.
"Jessi, I can’t do this," I admitted to her, facing forward. "It’s just not for me."
"Ssshhhhhh," she whispered, holding me closer. "God is for everyone. And he loves you! And he wants you to know him."
I sobbed harder, whispering back. "I know he’s there. I know he loves me. But I can’t accept the whole Jesus thing. I really think there’s more than one."
"You’re right!" she said. "There’s God, and Jesus, and the Holy Spirit!" She ticked off each with her fingers.
I raised my index finger, saying, "And there’s the Goddess–"
She put my finger down. "No Goddess. There’s God and Jesus and–"
I interrupted, saying, "Honey, remember the story I told you about the elephant?" She nodded. "Well, I don’t want to just see the eye. I want to see the elephant."
We stared at each other for a moment, unable to see eye to eye.
"I’m sorry," I added, as another tear slipped down my cheek. "I don’t mean to let you down."

I turned back to face the stage, to watch the man as he finished his ministering. I thought of Donna’s letter, her generosity. I was probably letting her down too. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

After the minister, the emcee came back to introduce Relient K. Thank god for distractions, especially of the chunky guitar riff and poppy vocals kind. I absolutely loved them! They were so awesome! Suddenly it didn’t matter if you believed in Jesus or elephants, it was just about loving the music and being there to hear it. Jessi and I jumped up and down, bounced around, and screamed at the top of our lungs. It was great. It was worth everything just to see that band live.

Switchfoot was set to play after Relient K, but the pit was getting a little out of hand. No one was moshing, but people were getting crushed and dehydrated. Being in the front, Jessi and I acted as an alarm system to the security guards, flagging them down if there was a sick person wilting behind us. By this time, it was about 9:30 at night. We’d been in the pit since 10 that morning. When the emcee came back out to announce that Switchfoot’s management wouldn’t let them perform until the crowd had settled and stopped thrusting forward, I began to doubt if I would last. I felt fine but hungry and dirty. When I rubbed my neck, thick globs of wet, sweaty dust came off on my fingers. I wanted a shower more than anything in the world. Security’s attempts at crowd control lasted for twenty minutes, during which I looked at Jessi and said, "I’m outta here."
"Me, too," she said. We flagged down the security guard to lift us over the fence and walked into the blessed, blessed open space to the left of the stage, where we could actually stretch our arms out side to side and not hit anyone.

We kept walking towards the main gate, then split when I went to get food and Jessi went to the campsite. "I’m gonna catch up with you there," I said, as I got in the Philly Cheesesteak line.
"Okay!" she chirped. "We’ll have the campfire ready by the time you get there!"
"Awesome."

Then came the dilemma of the shower. See, when I reach a certain threshold of dirty, I get really angry unless I am able to bathe at that very instant. I get surly. I got surly that night when I found out the line for the portable showers was too long and I wouldn’t be able to take one before the camp staff turned them off. Suddenly the joy from the day’s music was gone and I was about to either punch somebody in the forehead or get in my car and speed the eight hours back home to take a shower, or both. Jessi and Nicole tried to calm me down, saying, "You could just wake up at 5 tomorrow morning and get in line for when they turn them on." I knew that would never happen. I knew I couldn’t sleep if I was that dirty. I was getting more pissed off by the minute knowing that my opportunities to shower were nil. I started cursing up a storm.
"I f*cking stink!" I railed.
Jessi tried to calm me down. "At least we’re having a campfire!" she offered. "So no one will be able to smell you!" That didn’t really work.

That’s when I was saved by a boy in their youth group, Jackson, who said, "There’s that spigot you could probably wash up with."
It was like he had just said, "There’s a billion dollars over there for the taking if you want it." I stopped my cuss-fest.
"Where?! Where!?" I asked, like a madwoman. "Show me this spigot you speak of!" He led me over to a piece of wood sticking out of the ground by a tree.
"The water’s really cold!" he said.
"I don’t care!" I shouted. "It’s water!"

I got my bathing suit on and grabbed my soap and shampoo with gusto. I damn-near skipped over to the shoddy spigot, that’s how happy I was to have a chance to get the grime off me. Everyone else there, all the kids in Jessi’s youth group, all thought I was insane but at that point I was beyond keeping up appearances. Sure, I probably looked like I was starring in an amateur porn film, all wet and squatting in the moonlight, soaping myself up and running my fingers through my hair, but I couldn’t care less. At least I was clean. And happy.

I changed into clean jeans, my softball jersey, combed my hair, and sighed happily. All was right with the world again. I joined the campfire, which was going full force. Jessi’s youth group was gathered around, and soon other people joined us. We sang songs of worship and even more people came. I was feeling pretty shy at first, especially when I didn’t know the lyrics to the songs, and because I still got the cold shoulder from a lot of the kids in Jessi’s group. But as the night wore on, I felt more and more at ease, especially when the man playing guitar began "Amazing Grace". I sang along passionately, loving every verse.

As we sang, I watched the other faces illuminated by the fire. It was a beautiful moment. "Sing louder!" Jessi’s youth leader whispered to me.

"How sweet the sound..." I thought about my trip, so thankful it had brought me here. "Twas grace that brought me safely thus far..." Marveling at my good fortune, I watched the fire dance. "The hour I first believed...." Curling up closer to the flame, I realized it doesn’t matter what God you worship, what mattered was the coming together, the fellowship of praise. "This is God," I thought. "This is Jesus, right here in every ruddy, glowing face around this fire." "And grace will lead me home."

Looking past our fire, I could see other fires all around, and hear the quiet strains of other groups singing. The Battle Hymn of the Republic echoed in my mind. " I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps, His truth is marching on."

I looked up to the sky. Glory glory, hallelujah.