Why Families Choose Camp

Dear friends,

As families continue registering for camp, we’re reminded why this place matters.

Parents tell us they value camp because faith is lived here— morning watch at the bridge, visiting with residents at Pine Crest, or a moment of quiet reflection while watching the last embers of the campfire burn. Many once came as campers themselves and now return with their own children and even grandchildren! 

All the while, we welcome those who are new to outdoor ministry to attend, and sometimes they may not have the means to do so. Scholarships help ensure that families who desire this experience are welcomed, regardless of financial circumstance. 

If you’re looking for a simple way to support faith formation this season, we invite you to be part of this shared ministry.

With appreciation,
Randal Westfall
Camp Emmaus

Firelight Findings: Reflections from our Camp Manager

Have you ever tried to watch something grow in real time? A tomato plant, a child, even your own soul. You can stare for hours and never see a single change. But come back a day later … and something has shifted. Growth happens quietly—without our permission, without our awareness, without our control. 

Jesus says the Kingdom of God grows like that (Mark 4:26–29). Slow. Hidden. Unhurried. “The seed sprouts and grows, though we do not know how.” 

Recently at our annual retreat, camp board members held small slices of wood cut from trees around Camp Emmaus. Each cross-section told a story: rings wide and narrow, rings from years of drought and years of abundance, rings formed during storms and during stillness. And while the tree was alive, no one could see those rings forming. They grew quietly, layer by layer, beneath the bark. 

Camp ministry is the same. Every summer, every retreat, every porch conversation, every late-night campfire prayer adds another ring. Rings of courage in a teenager. Rings of healing in a family. Rings of calling in a young adult who doesn’t yet know they’re called. Most of the time, we don’t get to see the growth—but Christ is shaping it all the same. 

The outermost ring on a tree is always the newest one. The tree didn’t plan it; it simply stayed rooted. And the ring appeared. You and I are standing in our newest ring right now. God is forming something in us —in this camp, in this season, in this community—that we can’t yet see. But it’s happening. Quietly. Faithfully. Inevitably. 

As we step into spring, may we ask not, “Is God doing anything here?” but rather, “What ring is God forming in us now?” 

As Emmaus begins forming our 78th ring this year, may it be another ring of grace that tells both our story and God’s Love. 

Respectfully in Christ, 

Randall Westfall

CAMP MANAGER'S CORNER

The first snowstorm of the season hit this past weekend, and some 10+

inches later we’re clearing paths and shoveling around entrances to camp. It was the first significant snowfall that we’ve had here since January 2024.

Snow has a way of quieting camp. Trails that rang with summer laughter now lie hushed, waiting. The lake rests beneath its frozen veil, and the trees stand bare yet steadfast, reminding us that even in stillness, life endures. Winter is not absence; it is preparation. Beneath the frost, roots deepen. Beneath the silence, renewal stirs.

At Camp Emmaus, we know that ministry is not only about the busy seasons of programs and gatherings. It is also about the quieter rhythms—those moments when we pause, breathe, and listen for God’s whisper in the wind. Winter invites us to embrace Sabbath, to trust that rest is holy, and to believe that transformation is already underway, even when unseen.

This season also reminds us of the warmth we share in community. A fire in the lodge, a song lifted in worship, a story told around the table: these are embers of belonging that glow against the cold. They remind us that Christ’s light shines brightest when we gather, even in the darkest nights.

The lyrics of an old-time tune written by Molly Mason captures winter’s essence beautifully:

Darkest days, brightest nights 

Mother nature got it right 

Silver sky, full moon light 

Darkest days, brightest nights

As we step into these darkest days and brightest nights of winter, may we carry both the hush and the hope. May we honor the gift of rest, and may we kindle the fire of community that sustains us until spring. And may we discover, in the waiting, that God is already at work—shaping us, renewing us, and preparing us for the seasons yet to come.

Respectfully in Christ,

 

Randall Westfall

CAMP MANAGER'S CORNER

there are times when we must get away –
like a deer started by sudden movement
we feel the need to bolt
     as the world grows too
     loud too fast
     our nervous system
        waves the white flag
     to retreat
      to find stillness
                and if we don’t listen
                if we don’t honor our
                 need for solitude
                we burst at the seams.
                              —Scott Stillman

       As autumn is upon us, it is meant to be a time for slowing down. The rush of spring and summer now give way to the crisp air that invites us to gather around a campfire and reflect on the blessings and challenges of the past few months and what remains for 2025.

      As I begin to slow down and shift gears towards a season of reflection, these words by Scott Stillman are resonating in my heart. And I am reminded that his words echo the sentiment and reason that we have a sacred place like Emmaus.

      For the times when the world gets too loud or too fast, come to camp for quiet and stillness. When our nervous system begins waving a white flag, it’s time to surrender to the pace and chaos of brittle, anxious, nonlinear, and incomprehensible aspects our lives and rediscover how camp provides a robust, tranquil, reliable, and clear sense of connection to Christ and Creation (by disconnecting from the world).

      Autumn is a season for retreat, a time for stillness, a time for solitude. Because if we do not honor our need for solitude, we will surely burst at the seams. And if your heart and soul are like a deer started by a sudden movement and you feel the need to bolt, then do so knowing you can find solace on these sacred grounds called Emmaus.  

Respectfully in Christ, 
Randall Westfall