I had convinced myself that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Granted, I was only 18 years old in May of 1998 but when I drove onto the grounds of NLR in my 1987 Cavalier Z24 with an after-market leaky sunroof, I was arriving to a place almost completely foreign to me. I had never been a camper or retreat guest. There was no www.newliferanch.com. Summer staff group-me’s, mass emails, and texting weren’t things. After the initial interview that I’d been talked into by my roommate, any information that I’d received about spending an entire summer in “The Valley Set Apart” had been jammed into my 4” x 4” dorm mailbox. And then, to unnecessarily up the ante, I learned that the year-long, sleep-interrupting, Metallica-blasting dude that lived directly above me (and that I knew absolutely nothing else about) was going to be my staff Small Group Leader. “Enter Sandman” had not been on the printed, mailed and jammed packing list. If I thought I would be put at ease upon arrival, that changed when the first person who greeted me at my car was wearing a full-on black tuxedo. “Welcome to the family,” he said as he led me to where I’d be living for the 2 week long staff training. “This is what we call The Can. It’s short for Sardine can because leadership has crammed so many beds in here the guy staff sleep next to each other like sardines.” A few hours later I was introduced to famed 1990’s era NLR sulfur water. I became homesick for the first time in my life while regurgitating it around 2AM in the old gym (RIP) bathroom. It was the best summer of my life. There were two constants for me in those months: joy and pain. Every May I see new versions of myself driving into camp to be greeted by a non-Tuxedo wearing veteran summer staffer. Often, these vets were just a year prior, the apprehensive and about to be homesick rookie. In the 26 years since 1998, we’ve done much to f ix pain points. Sulfur water is pretty much a thing of the past. The Can no longer exists. Communications are consistent, timely and thorough. Tuxedos are banned during staff check-in. But even still, the summer-long experience for a summer staffer is full of both joy and pain. And that is what makes the adventure trajectory-altering. For many of our summer staff, a full summer at camp is the f irst difficult thing they’ve overcome on their own. Especially in an era where “Helicopter” and “Lawnmower” parents are prevalent, young adults need to struggle, fail, succeed, hurt, and overcome. There isn’t a way to navigate around the obstacles, situations and setbacks that come when you’re in charge of a cabin of 10 hyperactive ankle-biters who have each just downed their 3rd Icee from the Canteen. You learn instead what abilities you have, how to develop those you don’t and how to work through the failure that will definitely come. Current research is showing that children and young adults are being rescued from hardship too often and it’s leading to increased anxiety, low tolerance for distress and an overall attitude of helplessness. There’s some irony here as even in my own household, I find myself rescuing my 3 kids from hard things too often. I’m not talking about dangerous, life-threatening or mental health-altering situations, just things that will produce grit and perseverance. Me rescuing them from perceived harm only produces significantly more, longer-term harm. Alannis Morrisette could sing about this. Long before studies were conducted, we were forewarned about this. In multiple passages of scripture, the Lord speaks of the value of perseverance but my favorite is Romans 5:3-5. “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” At age 19, I needed something to safely persevere through on my because of the lows. Camp works because of this truth. own. We all do. About two weeks after I regurgitated the sulfur water, I was faced with others’ regurgitations. I was awakened during my first night as a counselor by a young, bespectacled boy named Walter who had been sleeping on the bunk above me saying, “Mr. Rhett, I really tried not to puke on you.” And if that mess wasn’t enough for the day, at breakfast I was summoned to the back of the dining hall to care for another one of my campers who was hugging a trash can larger than him. While providing him comfort due to an aching tummy, he found relief by depositing the 1 pound bag of skittles he’d eaten, while hiding in the bathroom during Pit & Palace, into the aforementioned trash can. Re-taste the rainbow. I was less than 24 hours into an 8 week long calling to be a camp counselor. Then, on Thursday night of that first week, I was beckoned to the porch of Oak cabin by my co-counselor Chad. We’d had a pretty long week with our cabin of 4th grade boys and much of it was due to one little dude named Bradley. Now, 26 years later, it’s easy for me to think back on Bradley and recognize the deeper dynamics that were at play in his heart and mind due to an already traumatic childhood but at the time, this was difficult for me to understand. However, on this night, the Holy Spirit had reached Bradley during chapel. He was asking questions about his need for a Savior. Chad tagged me in and I picked up where he had left off. Bradley understood his sin. He understood needing hope. He understood that no one around him was going to provide it. He understood that Jesus could. After we prayed together, I stayed on the porch praying exhausted praises to the Lord while he ran back inside declaring to his cabin mates, “Mr. Rhett Dawg saved me!” As Chad corrected his theology and led a celebration with the rest of the cabin, I thanked Jesus for the joy that follows the pain. I thanked him in advance for what He was going to do over the next 7 weeks. I thanked Him for what he had already shown me that He could do with me if I just trusted. My life was markedly shaped that summer and the two additional summers I served on summer staff. At the time I would have told you it was because of the joys but now, I know those highs were We’re currently recruiting summer staff for the 2025 season and while they don’t really know what’s in store, I do. It’s going to be hard. They’ll likely deal with vomit at some point. They’ll desire longer breaks. They’ll feel like they can’t possibly continue. But for those who trust, hope and persevere, it will change their faith and life trajectory in ways they’ll forever be thankful for. PS: Metallica Blaster and Tuxedo Greeter were both great guys who I loved getting to know that summer.
Rhett Pierce
Executive Director of New Life Ranch Frontier Cove
