You only live twice: Stepping into a monastic life of Strategic Intelligence and Ministry

For those of you who missed the Q, the title was a reference to an old James Bond movie, starring Sean Connery. Anyway...

I want to dedicate a post reflecting on my experiences at Duke Youth Academy up in North Carolina, and the Strategic Intelligence camp at Patrick Henry College, up in Virginia. For additional information about both, check out their respective website links:

Duke Youth Academy: https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives-centers/youth-academy

Patrick Henry College: http://phcteencamps.org/index.html#/reach-high--grow-deep/

My attendance at both camps has been the reason for my lack of posting, but I hope to get into a more familiar rhythm for the coming weeks!

As I stepped out of United Airlines Flight 3560, a queer aura of apprehension overwhelmed me. Though the flight barely scratched the 3 hour mark (and I had gotten plenty of sleep) I still felt slightly fazed, as though I could not quite believe that I was in North Carolina, about to spend a week at Duke University, with 25 students who came from all over the nation. As I grabbed my 48.9 pound suitcase (just barely passing weight regulations!) out of the baggage claim conveyor belt and began walking towards two individuals who had DUKE YOUTH ACADEMY plastered at the front of their shirts, a new ambiance came over me. This time, it was one of nervousness and trepidation. This was NOT the first time I had been away from home, and out of state before, but the fact that I would have to leave my comfort zone and be subjected to different Christian denominations and hear new theology was nerve wracking. The numerous strategies that I had practiced to reassure myself had disappeared. I greeted the two individuals warmly (both would be mentors at camp) and I joined the rest of the students who had arrived to Duke via airplane, at a nearby Starbucks. Little did I know that the similar overwhelming feeling I experienced would be replicated throughout my next week at Duke, but rather than a feeling of timidity, it would be a feeling of amazement and wonder at the power, sovereignty, and righteousness of God.

Through Duke Youth Academy’s rigorous “monastic-like” schedule, I challenged my mind in the morning, body in the afternoon, and my spirit at night. Having to wake up at 6:00 every morning was an unpleasant adjustment I had to make, but one that I gradually got used to as the week went on. I also took on a “water challenge”, and attempted to drink nothing but water during my time there (even though the numerous sweet teas, sodas, and juices wished to claim my taste buds). The day would begin with a heavenly breakfast, and immediately after breakfast would be Morning Prayer, which took place at Duke’s chapel. Walking through the colossal behemoth of a building humbled me as I would be reminded about how in the grand scheme of things, my Earthly concerns mattered very little. We would walk in singing In the Lord I’ll be ever thankful and hearing the congregation’s voice echo and resound throughout the stained glass walls would give me goose bumps every time. It was during Morning Prayer where we would sing some fairly old hymns, but all of which quickly became my favorite songs and ones that I currently sing passionately around my home today (much to the chagrin of my younger sibling). Songs such as Standing on the Promises, Siyahamba/We are marching, Jesus in the Morning, They’ll know we are Christians by our love, Go now in peace, Standing in the need of prayer, and Be present at our table lord struck me by their poignant lyrics and brutal honesty about the sinfulness of the human heart, while also emphasizing the omnipotent and mighty power of God, who increases grace wherever sin increases. Prior to camp, I had laughed at hymns, admiring their lyrics while criticizing the lack of a “cool beat” and “soul” that was found in modern contemporary Christian artists such as Lecrae, tobyMac, Mandisa, Natalie Grant, Matthew West, and Chris Tomlin. However, after the first day of Morning Prayer, I was humbled and struck by the power of such hymns. While I still admire the contemporary Christian artists, my admiration has increased for music that sacrifices beat and rhythm for soul and lyrics. Furthermore, I usually do not like to sing out loud, but after my time at Duke, I am not afraid to put my vocal cords to work and sing for God. Once the congregation had finished singing, we were invited to openly state our prayer requests and then meditate silently while the preacher read a few verses of Scripture.

After Morning Prayer, the day would shift to a more academic atmosphere. The “academy” portion of this program was centered on theology, church history, and Christian practices, all of which would be implemented through lectures, Morning Prayer, workshops, and chapel. Every day, I would be taught by special speakers, participate in special workshops, and open my eyes to the new ways I could experience God and use my gifts to serve his kingdom. The lectures (or plenary as it was also called) were taught by top-notch theology professors who spoke about topics ranging from creation, baptism, eschatology, merism, and worship. During this time, I heard familiar topics spun in a different way that I had not heard of before. Since many of the speakers were of different denominations (Catholic, Episcopalian, Anglican, Methodist, and Covenant to name a few) the way they viewed certain topics was much different from my Baptist views and upbringing. For example, one professor compared the Creation story to a great visual narrative epic, and pointed out how poetic God was when he created all our universe. Another speaker brought up the interesting possibility that Heaven would come to humanity when Jesus returns, rather than all of us ascending into heaven. Lastly, a professor stated that Jesus gave up being a creator (or gave up his creator-like powers) to become a creation. This stark contrast tore to the core of my heart as I realized the extent of Jesus’ love for me.

But Duke Youth Academy wasn’t all about work, and no play. Snack, worship workshops (more on that in a bit), lunch, and free time would proceed immediately after lectures in perfect harmony and synchronization, like a tower of Jenga blocks. If I was not studiously writing down notes or singing thousand year-old hymns, you could have found me playing card games (Mao, Spoons, Nerts, War, Egyptian Ratslap, and Mauiii), going to the Duke Divinity School Bookstore to pick up some Blue Devil attire, sleeping in an air-conditioned room, walking around the Duke garden, playing frisbee, going for walks, preparing with the music group for worship service, or talking with friends. Duke’s campus was massive and there was always something fun to do both outside and inside. Free time was only for two hours, but that was more than enough time for me to explore the campus and get to know the people at the camp.

Another important aspect of camp was the worship/living theology workshops. The term “worship” had always been an obscure one for me, for I knew that there were several different components to worship but I had never been given a clear definition. Through the worship workshops I learned that worship, at its heart, is the glorification of the triune God. It is proclaiming who God is, giving thanks, and reflecting. But most importantly it was a pattern in which we should base our lives upon. Worship’s four key components: Gathering, Proclamation, Thanksgiving/Communion, and Sending/Benediction should be the basis in which we should base our Christian walk. Just as important as the worship workshops were the living theology workshops. For these, special guests would speak about how they turned their God-given talents into gifts to serve God. A media anthropologist, comic book artist, and spoken word poet all offered their life stories and showed how they were engaging in ministry work through the use of their gifts. As an aspiring anthropologist, a lover of comic books, and a poet, seeing all of these passions come together was encouraging for me. Marlon Hall, the media anthropologist, went around chronicling the “untold” stories of people in Houston, Texas. He would then make mini documentaries detailing the joys, hardships, and struggles each person went through. Charlie Baber, the comic book artist combined the richness of church history and the idiosyncratic mannerisms of pop culture into a hilarious, witty, and heartwarming comic book strip series entitled The Wesley Bros. Lastly, poet JE transformed his personal adversities and life experiences into beautifully spun poetry that gave me goose bumps every time he spoke.

The last and perhaps the best component of the camp was the evening chapel and the small group reflection time that came after. One of the most exciting components of this was that it was mostly youth led (with the exception of the sermon messages, preparing of the sacraments, and benedictions). I myself was able to play the saxophone for one of the services, read responsive readings, and read a piece of scripture. Other youth performed roles such as singing, playing the piano/guitar/violin/percussion, blessing the congregation with holy tap water and a palm branch, performing poems, lighting candles, and the distributing the elements (bread and grape juice/wine). The other interesting aspect of evening chapel was that each night, we would experience a different denominational style of worship. These ranged from Methodist, World, Episcopalian, and a few others. Because of the diverse church services, I acquired new vernacular such as monastic, acolyte, and sacrament. The services were lively and I was deeply moved each night, reminded at how even with different denominations, the gospel of God was not tarnished. This community showed that despite doctrinal differences, we could still stand united as the church of Christ. However, there was one minor difference that I still hold on to strongly, despite what others may believe: the necessity of having grape juice (instead of real wine) during communion. On the evening of the Episcopalian service, the time came to take communion and I stood up to take the elements. Prior to that night, the communion bread stayed the same but Welch’s grape juice was used as substitute for real wine. Every time I had taken communion, I had always expected it to be grape juice and my taste buds were NOT ready for the real thing of fermented grapes. As soon as I dipped the bread into the purple elixir and popped it in my mouth, my taste buds cringed, my throat clamped up tight, and I almost spat out the whole thing, stunned by the robust and horrendous taste. Luckily, my hand was quicker than my digestive system and I quickly clenched my mouth shut and swallowed the morsels. I guess I could say I truly experienced God in a powerful and unique way. Like...very powerful...

Lastly, I led in a small group by two mentors (Dominique and Jennifer) as well as a mentor intern (Hope). After a long day of theology and fun, this time of peaceful transition and discussion was the most refreshing and fruitful. Dominique, Jennifer, and Hope were great mentors who would always answer any questions I had, talk with me, and pray for what was going on in my life. The students in my group (though we were all initially nervous to speak) were talking nonstop and creating a (peaceful) ruckus within the room. I got to hear the harrowing yet truly beautiful backstories of all the campers and marvel at how God was able to work in many different ways. Above all, this was one of the most important lessons I learned at Duke. Growing up, I used to think that there was only “one way to worship” or “one way to pray” but seeing all of these diverse methods and stories merge to one holistic community reminded me that that is what the body of Christ is like.

I left on Saturday, teary-eyed and dismal that the one-week of residency was over (we would still be able to connect through online methods) but I also left refined through the fires of faith, and eager to use my gifts for the betterment of God when I got back home. But first, I had to go through one last camp...

The rusty pick-up truck moved through the sylvan forest before finally bumping into the front of a large Jefferson monument-like edifice, decked with six giant stone pillars and grand steps that immediately required you to sit down and take a selfie before moving on. As I paid the driver, thanked him for his services, and put my foot (for the first time!) on Virginia soil (or rather, concrete) I could feel the pleasant ambiance shift into one of hostility and insecurity. From now on, every step I made had to be without suspicion. Every conversation, every interaction, and mannerism had to appear natural and above reproach, all of which was meant to hide my true motives. This marked the first day (of five) where my name would be taken from me, my identity stolen, and I would begin a new life, severing all connections with my past self.

To give you some background, I participated in a Strategic Intelligence camp at Patrick Henry College, up in Virginia. For those who do not know, strategic intelligence is the process by which specific types of information important to national security are requested, collected, analyzed and provided to policy makers. For my week at the camp, I would learn the inside and outside of the multiple intelligence agencies that existed and live a life of an intelligence worker. In total, there were probably over 160 students at the camp, a hefty increase from the small group of 26 I was used to at Duke Youth Academy. I (along with the other members in my dorm wing) were physically, mentally, and spiritually challenged during our time there. Some of these activities were in tandem with Duke Youth Academy’s schedule, while other challenges were unique. For example, at Duke, my roommate and I messily left our snacks, repugnant clothes, and shower materials strewn all over the floor whereas at Patrick Henry, each dorm wing had the chance to acquire a cumulative set of points (those with the most points would win the “Party in a Bag”) and such points could be acquired by keeping one’s dorm room clean enough to pass cleaning inspection. I was subjected to the “horrendous” chores of cleaning urinals, scrubbing showers, vacuuming, removing dust, making the bed, and cleaning the sinks. The day began at 6:00 (had adjusted to that time by now) and immediately all members of my dorm wing had to be subjected to the tortures listed above. The day would end at 11:00, and in between, every nook and cranny of time was filled with activities (all of which were engaging and convivial). Intelligence experts ranging from retired air force officers to counterintelligence spy officials gave lively presentations that dealt with topics such as the moral ethics behind the US government, the technology that real-life spies use for missions in the field today, the history of hacking, and the geopolitical mistakes that could have easily been avoided in the Korean War, Vietnam War, and 9/11. In addition to these lectures, members of my team and I would have to respond to simulated threats against the US government using the strategies and skills learned in the lectures. I was surprised at what the real-life side of the intelligence profession looked like and how complex the problems were. Rescuing hostages seized by Syrian officials was not as simple as sending in Seal Team 6, equipping them with military-grade Mossberg 500s and AK-47s, blowing up the bad guys, and establishing peace relations. Rather, it required extensive communication with the Department of Defense and the President’s cabinet. Events that threatened national security could not be solved in a two hour action thriller, but instead had to be carefully thought out and planned. On the final day of the camp, all of the campers took on various roles of the numerous intelligence agencies, and collectively we had to end World War III (The United States, Israel, and Japan vs Russia, Syria, and North Korea), stop a Cyber-attack from China, destroy a biological disease that was sweeping through the nation, and make sure the acting president did not get impeached. All of these things in six days!

However, the crux and underbelly of the camp lay in secret identities. Prior to arrival, I was given a new name and backstory by the campus coordinators: I was now Daniel Barry, a 23 year old college student from Oklahoma City who was interning with the NSA. For that week I would be at camp, I would have to act on that alias the whole time.  I was warned that I needed to develop a complex and believable backstory about myself so I could survive (cue dramatic music) INTERROGATION. Men (and women) in black would often storm in during meal times and pull aside several unsuspecting campers to be interrogated, where the campers would be asked various questions detailing their “identity”. I myself was called by the interrogators one evening during dinner, placed in a dark room with one flickering light, and bombarded with questions designed to make sure I had really researched the NSA and Oklahoma City. The interrogators would ask questions about my address, what the city was like, and a plethora of other questions that I had to be ready to answer on command. It was a (somewhat) scary but also very entertaining and helpful for I got a glimpse as to what real interrogations were like. Campers were also tasked with uncovering as many “real names” of other campers as they could (doing so would earn their team points). The ambiance of competition and fear mixed in with feelings of camaraderie made for an amazing camp experience. To wrap up the action-packed day would be evening chapel. Though the building was much smaller than Duke’s, the close and tight-knit feel gave worship a more personal touch. I was reminded about how even in a profession that requires one to constantly lie, God’s word continues to reign true and as Christians, we must hold on to that truth.

Going to both of these camps, I was extremely humbled at the dedication and passion the counselors and the on-campus staff displayed. I was reminded what it meant to truly serve one's community and to use the God-given gifts one has received to pursue justice and goodness within ones residential area. During this time, I was reminded even as young high school students, it is important that we develop skills such as faith, self-discipline, and restraint before we head off to college. We are called by God to be pioneers and explore the unknown, while spreading his gospel. We must conquer the fear and trepidations that we hold and emerge from the tests of fire and adventure more mature than before. I thank God for my experience at both camps, and can’t wait to see what he has in store for me in the future!