Survival of the Dominant

I just finished reading H.G. Welles The War of the Worlds. The initial premise is that the “high and mighty” planet Earth gets invaded by Martians, who come equipped with colossal war machines, deadly heat rays, and fatal black smoke. Through the course of human retaliation, martian dominion, and the sobering aftermath, the narrator (Welles does not give a name for the character) contemplates what “advancement means” and ponders whether or not humanity, for all of its superior intellect and technology, should ever have the right to rule anything. Wow! Let me just say right off the bat that Welles is a sci-fi and literary master! I never knew one could combine real science and adventure into one enjoyable tale. He instantly earns my respect as one of the greatest sci-fi writers ever, right up there with Ray Bradbury and Kurt Vonnegut. I had heard of The War of the Worlds before, but this summer, I finally had the chance to sit down and read it. I had speculated that this was the “first sci-fi” novel and that many sci-fi themes that find themselves in today’s movies, TV shows, and books originated from this novel (I had also previously just seen Ridley Scott’s Alien so it was interesting to contrast themes from that film with themes of this novel). The imagery that Welles employs is simply fantastic: most of the book is him simply describing what the narrator sees, and letting those actions speak louder than words.

The War of the Worlds is split into two sub-books entitled The Coming of the Martians (book 1) and Earth Under the Martians (book 2). The first sub-book plays out more like a post-apocalyptic sci-fi actioner with moments of human drama in between, while the second book is more thought-provoking and philosophical, as the narrator contemplates life under the omnipotent and powerful men from Mars. Though both books may be different in terms of tone, several recurring themes and ideas are present within both, and that consistency adds clarity to the novel, while the differences give each chapter a fresh feel.

The first of these recurring themes is imagery. The War of the Worlds is very rich with detail from beginning to end. Welles could not simply describe the destruction of the districts Ealing, Richmond, and Wimbledon using any simple adjective. Rather, he compares those places to a martian’s sketchbook where the martians draw with their pen of death, and cause calamity and disorder in the process. In chapter 17 of book 1, Welles writes “Over Ealing, Richmond, and Wimbledon, it would have seemed as though some monstrous pen had flung ink upon the chart. Steadily, incessantly, each blank splash grew and spread, shooting out ramifications, this way and that, now banking itself against rising ground, now pouring swiftly over a crest into a new-found valley, exactly as a gout of ink would spread itself upon blotting-paper.” The action is also very well described, with the battle between 3 alien tripods and the human warship HMS Thunder Child being a climactic and stunning end to the first book. Though Welles’ never makes any explicit comparisons, the reader cannot help but compare the warship Thunder Child to have the ramming power of a rhino, the speed of a jaguar, and the ferocity of a hippopotamus. Animal verbiage is not used, but the motions of the ship give it the aura of a living being, rather than a hunk of metal. The alien tripods are described simply as agile and sleek (almost swan-like) mechanical beasts. These are just a few of the many examples where Welles’ drops the persona of being a writer, and embodies an artistic spirit. Such descriptive vernacular paints The War of the Worlds as a grim, but also very hopeful world. For wherever the destruction of the martians is most felt and  most poignant, the beauty of human companionship and sacrifice is also evident. Welles’ strategy is a double-edged sword: both the ominous as well as the beautiful moments are personified through the highest form through the use of metaphors and similes. Whenever I was reading these contrasts, I would be reminded of Romans 5:20 which says “The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” (NIV) So wherever violence may increase, peace and human bountifulness also increased, showing the importance of human community.

Through the use of Welles’ beautiful description and imagery, Welles surprises his readers with something more thought-provoking and profound: the backwardness of humanity and challenging the definition of progress. Whenever the martians are unleashing their heat ray or black smoke, the narrator often marvels at the weapons’ power, wondering whether animals beneath humans view humans with the same awe and terror. The narrator compares humans to ants, while the martians are the new apex predators. This dominion humbles the narrator as he comes to turn with the “order of nature” and painfully accepts the fact that humans are no longer the top dogs.

While I was at Duke Youth Academy, I heard a lecture given by Dr. Anthea Portier-Young, who spoke about the creation story as a narrative, poem, art, and myth. One interesting point she said was that when God gave humanity “dominion” over the Earth, the Hebrew word dominion (radah) means “not with harshness” and not exploitative. Dominion was instead to be viewed as a custodial ethic and responsibility. When God let humanity dominate over the other species, he gave us a responsibility to use our power to help those who have less or no power. Thus, true dominion is provident and nurturing care. It is not pounding to submission and ruling with an iron fist. It was interesting to see the martians dominion over the people and for the narrator to then in turn wonder about how humans could be better rulers to the critters of the Earth after the martians left. Welles asks whether human beings attempt to enforce a skewed version of dominion over each other, or whether we act as responsible caretakers for the Earth.

But those “dominant” martians are in no way physically intimidating in comparison to the humans. The martians themselves, for all of their mechanical prowess, are simply nothing more than a brain, lungs, tentacles, a heart, and blood vessels. They had seemingly evolved and stripped off all of the unnecessary organs such as the digestive system and entrails. This image of the martians as large heads with a swath of tentacles is a stark contrast from the biologically superior images as thought of today. Even in the novel, the narrator stated in chapter 4, book 1 that “I think everyone expected to see a man emerge (from the alien cylinder)--possibly something a little unlike us terrestrial men, but in all essentials a man. I know I did. But, looking, I presently saw something stirring within the shadow: grayish billowy movements, one above another, and then two luminous disks--like eyes. Then something resembling a little grey snake, about the thickness of a walking stick, coiled up out of the writhing middle, and wriggled in the air towards me--and then another.”

A White Martian
Image credit: DC Comics

The War of the Worlds Martian
Image credit: Les Edwards

This physical aspect of the martians is quite underwhelming from what readers were probably expecting when thinking about the formidable men from mars. Welles displays a thorough understanding of the “survival of the fittest” idea from Darwin’s The Origin of Species and by having his martians scrap off the unnecessary organs and body parts, he does a backward Darwinism. To borrow a quote from the the android Ash from the film Alien,“their (the Aliens) structural perfection matched only by its hostility.” Though Ash was referring to a far more formidable creature (seen below) his quote can be applied to these martian invaders in Welles novel. I

The Xenomorph as seen in Alien vs Predator
Image credit: 20th Century Fox

In a similar way, the narrator also had the chance to learn from his comrades. During the initial invasion of the martians, the narrator befriends an artilleryman. The two get separated but after a few chapters, they join forces again. While in the company of the narrator, the artilleryman ranted about how the martians would enslave all of humanity and breed humans as pets (in the same way we do with dogs). The artilleryman the audaciously claimed that he would be the leader of a resistance that would valiantly fight against the tyranny of the martians. He then exclaimed that he only wanted hard-working and able-bodied men and woman in the resistance and would not “pick up any rubbish that drifts in” (chapter 7, book 2). In order to prepare for such a grand scheme, the narrator and the artilleryman would have to build a lengthy tunnel underground. This tunnel would serve as headquarters for the resistance. The narrator was shocked by these bold words, for he himself was quite soft-spoken, while the artilleryman spoke with such gravitas and passion. Even as a reader, I began to be drawn to the silkiness of the artilleryman’s voice and imagine the adventures the resistance would have. As a scientist, the narrator never got to experience the adrenaline of combat, nor could he have ever considered himself to be “fit enough” to survive in the world. He got a shovel and began digging away at the blood-stained Earth, fantasizing about the possibilities such an adventurous future would hold. But he was quickly disappointed when after a short period of time, the artilleryman refused to work anymore. The artilleryman instead, decided to eat mutton and drink beer. The narrator then realized the hypocrisy of the artilleryman’s words. While the narrator wished for able-bodied men and women who would be willing to work hard, he himself was not a hard worker. Superiority, then was not in the flowery sentences of powerful men but through the humble actions of timid. James 2:26 “As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead” (NIV). Thus, Welles is directly challenging what humans find “superior” and shows how even the mighty and high Goliaths, can be brought low by the small and fragile Davids. So long as those Davids have heat rays and behemoth machines in place of a rock. 

But even David and the Israelites still needed to fight more battles against the Philistines even after Goliath was defeated. In the same way, even after the aliens left the planet, humans still needed to fight for sanity and morality. During the aftermath, the narrator somberly reflects on how the people of Earth can no longer view themselves as the most superior race in the universe. Humans are not alone in the world; creatures with far more advanced weaponry can come back any time, and smite the Earth. With such a looming fear and threat, everyone is on constant alert. But with alertness, also comes new knowledge. The scientific community has blossomed. The military is attempting to replicate or reverse-engineer the martian technology. As a whole, the narrator observes how humanity has become closer. People do not fear the material things they may lose. They are all more willing to help each other, even if it may cost them. Now here is where the genius of Welles is fully realized. Yes the martians attack was brutal, merciless, barbarous, and left many people dead, but at the same time, humanity has “matured” through this experience. The narrator states that many of the world’s problems that probably would not have been addressed, are now being brought to the spotlight because of the martian attack. In some ways, the martians showed humanity what “needed fixing” and though their methods of doing so were wrong and inhumane, the aftermath is one of the most beautiful moments of the novel. 

In the comic book strip workshop at Duke Youth Academy, the instructor Charlie Baber brought up an interesting notion. He stated that while secular music artists such as Eminem and Macklemore may curse, slander, and maliciously criticize the church, what if God is using them as a way to critique something the church is doing? What if it takes an outside voice to shed light on an area where the church can be improved? Should we immediately disregard such people because they are secular? Or should we humbly take into consideration what is being said? Respectively, Welles asks his readers whether he/she thinks the martians invasion was a good wake-up call to the people of Earth, or whether it was a mindless and immature attack by an outside race. The truth is that God can use anything, from a donkey to a burning bush, to speak truth to his people. We should not immediately accept what a non-christian may say outside the church to be gospel, nor should we immediately shut out their voice. Instead, we as Christians must look to see whether their arguments are based off of scripture. By doing so, we are both listening with a critical ear while accepting their argument. 

The War of the Worlds is dark. It is bleak. It is dreary. The action and brutality is made so blatantly clear that the novel has come under fire many times for its violent content. But nonetheless, I urge all who have the chance to read this novel, to read it. Not just for the action and themes, but maybe God can speak even through a novel such as this. 

Dawn of the Planet of the CROG

I would like to give a special thanks and shout out to "Sir" William Posey, my roommate and awesome friend at Duke Youth Academy. He came up with the word CROG, which is an abbreviation for Coming Reign of God. Thanks so much man. Hope you're doing good. #crog

I recently viewed the film Dawn of the Planet of the Apes which was directed by Matt Reeves, and stars Andy Serkis, Gary Oldman, and Jason Clarke. I remember walking into the cineplex thinking that this film would be another sci-fi actioner filled to the brim with CGI, stellar acting, philosophical themes, and loads of ape vs human battles. I speculated that the film might be thought-provoking and have a good moral message (as good as movies go) but would ultimately would fall into generic summer blockbuster territory (I had previously seen Transformers: Age of Extinction and all of the characteristics above applied to THAT film, minus the stellar acting and philosophical themes). But I would soon be proven wrong as Dawn of the Planet of the Apes proved to be more than just a simple cliché message watered down with human drama and wrapped up in PG-13 violence and language. Instead, Dawn proved to be a beautifully crafted and dark tale that drew parallels to problems such as racism (or animalism?), lack of understanding/communication, and ultimately what the consequences of a broken and sinful world looks like if it is without God’s grace and forgiveness. I was a bit disturbed by the intensity and brutality of the film, but I can give praise to the unflinchingly honest look that the director gives to this dystopian and fallen world. 

This post will not be a review of the film, but rather a comparison between the events of the film and the real-life issues that they speak to. As such, for those who are reading this and have not seen the film, I will be venturing into SPOILER territory regarding plot details and the outcome of certain characters. While many films may draw similarities between their fictional world and the current one, what makes Dawn so powerful is the unbiased realism that is shown to all of the film’s characters. The film does not justify for any good character’s questionable actions, nor does it critique the violence of the antagonist, but collectively, the film shows how flawed we are as human beings. I wish the film could have taken one last step and showed how even in our human brokenness and sin, we have a God who is still willing to take us in and help us. Our first step to such a God should be an act of repentance. 

The film takes place in San Francisco, California during the year 2026, but the future is no utopia. Years of war have destroyed the possibilities of running water and working electricity. Everything is in chaos and the unity of mankind has broken. The people live in disarray and fear of the inevitable death that looms over them. Anger and fear are traded in for wisdom and clarity, as rare peaceful moments are shattered by sporadic fits of rage. Seeing a community of people that was once so strong before the Simian flu outbreak is disheartening, and the camera pans to people somberly reflecting on life before the flu. The community in San Fran must number the hundreds if not thousands, but there is no strength in numbers. The people are divided and upset, and it is up to Dreyfus (Gary Oldman’s character) to restore peace. But such a yoke and burden feels heavy upon his aged shoulders and while he initially seeks to find a “peaceful” resolution, like Pontius Pilate, he gives the people what they want and goes to war with the apes, whom most of humanity has blamed for the hellish condition they find themselves in. In contrast, the apes are enjoying a time of great prosperity and countenance. In times of hardship and violence, the ape leader Caesar has been able to build a peaceful society and above all, a family and community of apes who learn to work together. Their unity is a stark contradiction to the disarray of humankind. Caesar’s community shows how even if hardship may burn away at our outside shell, at our core, virtues such as family and love can continue to shine bright. In the same way, if like Job, we find ourselves stripped of everything, we must not curse God but instead cry out to him even more. The metaphorical “flood” or “great calamity” so to speak brings out the worst in human beings. But it should also bring out our best. Even in such hardship, people should be willing to unite despite differences and come before God in full surrendurance.  In a truly touching scene, Dreyfus is shown weeping over a picture of his two sons (both of which had died horribly by the Simian Flu) and for a moment, briefly contemplates the possibility that humans and apes could live together in peaceful coexistence. However, that thought is chucked out the window when he hears an all-too-familiar sound: the battle cry of apes preparing for war against the humans. 

That sound was bellowed by the ape Koba, second in command to Caesar, and one who harbors deep hatred for human beings. He and Caesar act as two sides of the same coin: while ape leader Caesar experienced the joy of being raised by a loving and caring father, the only human interaction Koba ever experienced was when they scientists zapping him with a cattle rod or injecting him with drugs. Koba’s human masters were cruel, sardonic, and macabre which skewered his idea of humanity. He believes that all humans are incessantly prone to evil and sees no goodness in them. He is thirsty for blood and hungry for a chilling and brutal revenge that he can extract. Caesar comes from a much more dignified and privileged position. As a leader, he must understand the privilege that he has and attempt to understand and make peace with those who have sharp differences with his views. In this way, it is important not to stereotype and place labels on anyone. Both Caesar and Koba were blind to each other’s viewpoints and rather than attempting to seek a common ground of understanding, they let the tension between them grow which ultimately escalated into violence and tragedy. Living in America, there is the privilege of diversity but there is also the responsibility of understanding and grace. Rather than writing someone off simply because their views are a certain way, or they are a certain race, it is important to be patient and take the time to listen.

Andy Serkis as Caesar
Image credit: 20th Century Fox

This is further proven when humans nursed Caesar back to health after he was shot by Koba. In that scene, Caesar talks to his son and says “I chose to trust him (Koba) because he is an ape.  I thought ape was better than human. I see how much like we are.” This shows how we must not simply take truths as they are and live complacent lives. We must continually be active, whether that is in ministry or other means.

Toby Kebbell as Koba
Image credit: 20th Century Fox

Furthermore, the scary thing is that Koba genuinely believed he was right in what he was doing. He thought that Caesar was far too soft and caring as a leader, and took it upon himself to kill Caesar and lead the apes to battle with humanity. Koba wished to save the apes while also extracting revenge on the humans. He shrouded the attack on the humans as a righteous act, while his true intentions stemmed from hatred. He claimed that Caesar loved humans much more than his own kin. The ironic thing, is that Koba does not realize that he is transforming into the same human masters he loathed and despised. While he claims love for his brother and sister apes, he is more than willing to sacrifice as many of them as he can in order to make the “evil humans” suffer.In the same way when Malcolm (Jason Clarke) attempts to reason with Dreyfus and tell him to spare the apes and not fight, Dreyfus refuses, strongly believing that his mission was a righteous one and that his actions were meant to “save the human race.” Just as Dreyfus believed in what he was doing was right, many conflicts in today’s world comes from people strongly believing that their views are more superior than others.

Though the film will be in the theaters for quite some time (last I heard it beat out Transformers and is the new “#1 movie in America”) I urge all who go to see it to come at it with a more analytical tone. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is one of those rare movies that amidst the action, comedies, horror, and animated films that pour through one end of the box office and out the other, it stands as a strong testament to the human condition, and shows us that much more why we need a savior like God. 

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!