I imagine that former refugees would not understand why on earth people would choose to go camping. They probably remember living in tents as a fearful time forced upon them, and I can understand their point of view.
When I go camping, however, I find it therapeutic. Here are some of the reasons:
- When I go camping I realize that I don’t need half of the things I have in my house. I am forced to live more simply. Preparing food, going for hikes, playing games, and enjoying fresh air without a strict schedule is good for me.
- Camping shows me how to be resourceful, with my husband’s help. Since we do not own a plethora of camping gadgets, we try to manage as best we can with what we have. On a recent trip, we took four lawn chairs for five people; I didn’t mind at all sitting on a box when they were all in use.
- Camping places me outdoors. Too often I tend to spend my days walled into buildings, even when I could theoretically take a task outside and do it there. In the summer, I ought to spend more time in the creation and notice all of the God-made things that are found there. Camping reminds me that in many warm climates houses are small because they are basically meant for sleeping in at night. The rest of the time is spent outside. I wonder how much we are missing by living in buildings as our default mode.
- Similar to the Israelites of old, camping can be a spiritual journey of sorts. The annual “Feast of Booths” was basically a week-long camping trip to commemorate wilderness wanderings and celebrate how far the Lord had led them in their settled existence. Camping can be an enriching time with more solitude and time to listen to God’s voice.