Every year forever my family and I have gone to Family Camp over Labor Day weekend at Pine Valley. It’s a beautiful facility in the foothills of Southern California and one of those always-under-construction sort of places. Each year we visit there’s something new to see. It’s all very exciting and one of our favorite family traditions.
Several years ago they remodeled the dining room. Well that’s a little of an understatement. They built a huge, beautiful dining hall that seats over 300. Since the camp is very traditional they kept the original dining room as sort of a side-wing, overflow eating area (that they only use when the camp size swells to over 300 people and a lounge. It’s on the side of the dining hall with some extremely comfortable chairs and sofas. It’s even got one of those nifty chairs that sort of rock and swing at the same time. I love to sit in it. Most of the time some else is already there.
Since it’s out in the country its got that modern, very rustic look. The wife of the camp director scours the countryside for unique and genuine antiques to decorate each new building that goes up. She’s done a bang up job on this one. It’s got a deer head and a bear skin. There’s some old signs that reflect another era; Coca-Cola, Five and Ten cent Store, all dutifully chipped around the corners, fading paint, and colors that we just don’t make any more.
One of the signs she’s found is small and obscure. It hangs on the wall near the old side door that leads into the original dining room. It simply says, ‘JESUS IS VICTOR.’
It’s a Christian Camp and the sign reminds us that Jesus is victorious in all the affairs of this world.
The first year we saw it I stopped and said to my kids, “Jesus is in camp with us and He’s disguised as some guy named Victor.” Now every year we notice the sign, remember our little joke and go on to enjoy the weekend.
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The other day we went to the movies. It was a matinee. My mother-in-law was in town, and this was the latest computer-animated, high-tech movie. The theater was under new management and a lovely, retired lady about the size of an ant sold us our tickets. She was delightful, fun and seemed to be enjoying her job. My wife remarked that she liked places that hired older people. She’s soft and sensitive like that. I just had a good time with her buying our tickets. Her name was Betty. I read her name tag.
The young man at the door looked a little different. His haircut divulged some unusual hair growth patterns, possibly some previous surgery or injury. In the old days we would have called him mentally retarded. These days to be politically correct, we say he’s mentally challenged.
He was 25 or so, and very intense about performing his appointed task of taking our ticket, carefully tearing it in half and laboriously stating the number of the theater and directing us to its location. He kept looking past us probably making sure nobody snuck in without a ticket. He was performing right to the edge of his abilities and he was doing a great job!
Well these days, I am auditorilly challenged – I don’t hear very well. When the young man directed me to the correct theatre I didn’t hear what he said and asked him to repeat himself. Well this was out of his regimen. People probably waltzed right past him almost as if he wasn’t there which may have suited him just fine. There was momentary panic in his eyes, he paused and then realized he needed to simply repeat the directions. “Three,” he said and pointed back and to the right.
I paused now myself, taken by his bravery to function in a world that is usually moving a little too fast for him. I felt no pity, but admiration. I guess it showed in my face as I offered him my best smile, glanced at his name tag and said simply, “Thank you, Victor.” (Seriously – His name was Victor… I’m NOT making this up!) We made just momentary eye contact, just a little longer than acceptable and he smiled back
Maybe he wasn’t used to people using his name. Maybe he was proud of himself for correctly repeating the number of the theater for me. It was a smile that said something like, “Aw shucks, folks.” Or maybe it said, “Thanks for noticing me. Thanks for your approval.” He stood just a little taller.
Well now I wish I would have something like, “Great job, Victor,” or “I appreciate your help.” But as I walked away, my fourteen year old son also said “Thank you.” Totally unnecessary, but I’m sure appreciated by Victor.
Hundreds of people a day walk right past Victor as if he isn’t even there. Maybe he doesn’t mind. Maybe he does.
There are ‘Victors’ all around us every day. If we blaze through life without taking the time to see, we’ll miss them. All of them. And in doing so, we’ll miss it all.
“Then shall the King say unto those on his right hand, Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
For I was hungry, and you gave me food: I was thirsty, and you gave me drink: I was a stranger, and you took me in: I was naked, and you clothed me: I was sick, and you visited me: I was in prison, and you came unto me.
Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when did we see You hungry, and fed You, or thirsty, and gave You drink? When did we see You a stranger, and take You in, or naked, and clothe You? Or when saw we You sick, or in prison, and come to You? And the King will answer and say unto them, Assuredly I say to you,
Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, You did it to me.”
Matthew 25:34-40 (NKJV)
Maybe Jesus is Victor.
What a sign.
It's a Good Life! . . . .
