Through thick and thin

I have found, in my life, that most places in this world can be split into two categories: thin or thick. If these terms don’t mean anything more to you than physical attributes just hold tight. I’ll explain. I’ve heard the term “thin place” thrown around quite a lot among my church and camp friends; most often when talking about Camp Mikell. A thin place is a place where God’s presence is most apparent. And if we have thin places then it would stand to reason that we also have thick places. A place where God’s presence seems to be lacking or perhaps even nonexistent. Perhaps a place like the DMV or a filthy gas station bathroom in some podunk town in the middle of south Georgia. I can honestly say I’ve never felt the powerful and moving force of the Holy Ghost in either of those places.

A thin place is something wonderful, though. A place to find peace. A place to pray. A place to learn and love and grow. A place to fill and be filled. The thinnest I place I’ve found in my life has been Camp Mikell, which is the camp for the Diocese of Atlanta. I’ve been a regular attendee at Mikell since the summer of 2006. I have been a camper, a counselor, and now a summer staffer. At Camp Mikell, the Holy Spirit doesn’t just move. It creates and transforms.

There’s one activity we do at Camp that I find particularly moving: the Creek Hike. The creek hike is a strenuous and physically demanding trek through the Little Toccoa Creek. You start by walking about a half mile out from main camp to the spot where you get in the water. Once you get in the creek, you don’t get out for about a mile and half. You have to tread carefully over the creek bed, navigate obstacles such as fallen trees and boulders, and finish by climbing up a 15 or so foot waterfall. As difficult and exhausting and dangerous as it is, I find it to be both cleansing and relaxing. I leave from the creek hike feeling refreshed. It’s the one of the few places I’ve ever been where there is no evidence of human activity. There’s no trash anywhere, no signs or trail markers. It’s a perfect example of the raw, natural beauty of God’s creation, unmolested by human hands. Being out in nature always helps me to recenter myself, but something about that specific chunk of land in the northeast Georgia mountains has a profound effect on me that I haven’t yet found any where else. I feel God’s presence as the water rushes past me. I see his power portrayed in the enormous boulders laid in the creek. I can hear him speaking in the water trickling down the cliffs, in the birds and the frogs, and in the wind blowing through the valley. I hope you have found a place like this, and if you don’t, I encourage you to go seek it out.

Peace!

Joel Smith