Communion Night ~ a short story

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Me and my small group all gathered outside of the camp's church, along with the rest of the campers, just goofing off and taking pictures. I was dressed...probably the gayest I could manage, with Birkenstocks, black jeans, a plain black tank top, and a jean jacket. I felt cute.

Let me clear some things up. I'm going to a week-long Christian camp at the beginning of June. This camp, Summerslake, is SUPER FUN and has activities like...well, we did ziplining and rock-climbing earlier this week, and I suspect we'll be doing a high-ropes course tomorrow...as well as several water activities...anyway! This place is lit as hell, and it's my third year in a row going. Problem is, since last year, I've sort of...lost my faith, I guess?? Now the whole concept seems ridiculous and I identify as an atheist. 

And athiest + Christian camp??? Yeah. Not exactly the best combo. Yesterday was a thing the camp called "Commitment Night", where the campers were lowkey pressured into devoting their lives to worship to a dude who died 2,000 years ago because the religious leaders were pissed at him. I only survived it because of my groupmate, Bethany, who was also an atheist. We stood to the side and chatted about how stupid religion was while most everyone was crowding around the worship band, on their knees in prayer, including the rest of our group.

That was yesterday, today was similar, same worship songs, probably just as much praying, except this time bread and grape juice join the fun. 

The doors to the Camp Church opened, and all of the campers let out a scream and ran towards the building, eager to get in, including me and my small group. We were pretty tight-knit, my small group and I. It consisted of Me, Bethany (who I mentioned before), Fiona, Cassidy, and Greta, with our counselor Zoey (who we called "Dad"). It was pretty rad.

We all carved a spot on the stairs, facing the stage where the pastor always spoke and the band always played, and sat next to one another, just waiting for the 'service' to start and the campers to stop talking, which turned out to be a very tedious task. 

I don't really remember what the pastor said, exactly. Something about being men and women of God and how Christ had his body broken and blood shed for our sins. I wasn't really paying attention. Before I knew it, the worship band had broken out in one of our worship songs: "We Believe" by the Newsboys. I remember liking them before I "fell from faith".

"In this time of desperation
When all we know is doubt and fear
There is only one foundation
We believe, we believe"

I remember we were the first group to actually get the bread and grape juice. Not wine. First of all, that would be illegal, second, alcohol and a bunch of middle schoolers wouldn't be a very good combination. We all stood in a circle, with Zoey in the middle, first going around with the bread, saying "This is the body of Christ broken for you." I took it. So did everyone else. Next was the grape juice. "This is the blood of Christ, shed for you." I dipped the bread in the grape juice, then downed the entire unit. It didn't taste that bad, to be honest. Because girls are emotionally insane, our entire group gave each other one big group hug. I'm pretty sure Fiona was crying already. 

After the hugging session, our little group returned to our spot on the stairs, arms around each other, gently swaying to the music. I swayed along, cuz let's be honest, the worship team weren't bad musicians. Quite the opposite, actually. Oftentimes instead of worshiping I found myself staring at the guitars or the drums, since I want to become a musician. 

I stayed like that for a few more songs, just swaying with the group and appreciating the music. But soon I realized that this would go on for a LONG TIME. Could I tolerate pretending worship and emotions for that long? I didn't know. Until I looked to my right and saw my ATHEIST friend Bethany beginning to tear up.