In the 1990’s I was once asked, “If you were stranded on a deserted island and could only have one album by Petra, which album would you choose?” For me, Beyond Belief was that album; only because the album Jekyll & Hyde was not released until 2003 and this was a 90’s question. That type of question always confused me though because it always makes me wonder, “How am I going to play that album on this deserted island?” But I digress. Beyond Belief is an awesome album with great songs from start to finish but there is that one song that triggers those special memories regarding youth camps.

Promised Land Bible Church was a non-denominational church and as a result we did not have access to the normal youth camps that drew teens from every church in the state of that particular denomination. So we had to improvise. Being that I had come out of the Wesleyan Church, which had extremely strict rules at camp here in the south regarding mixed bathing (girls and guys swimming together), shorts and for that matter pants period for the girls, a couple of my friends who were youth pastors for two of the larger Wesleyan youth groups at that time here in Georgia were starting to think outside the box and organize their own camp. When I caught wind of this I contacted Billy Ginn of Northside Wesleyan Church and Greg Moore of Winder Wesleyan Church about joining in on the adventure. For several years our three church youth groups had some pretty awesome times and not just with these camps, but lock-ins, Atlantafest and many other events.

One of the camps we did had the theme “I Believe” and I was in charge of t-shirt design that year and came up with this idea involving the song “Creed” off of Beyond Belief. Being a musician I did not want to break any copyright laws so since email, texts and twitter did not exist at the time, I thought I would send a letter to Petra requesting permission to use the lyrics of the song. Petra responded by saying something like, “Have at it – it’s the Apostle’s Creed.” After the “duh” moment had passed, I designed a t-shirt that had a scroll on it with the words from the song “Creed”; because theirs did rhyme and flow a little better than the original Apostle’s Creed.

I cannot say for sure if the 1993 camp was the actual “Creed” t-shirt camp, but it stands out in my memory thanks to Jesse Marescalco. That year our camp was just outside of Dahlonega, GA at Camp Glisson. With its beautiful waterfall and lake it was one of my favorite places to take LightForce for retreats and camps. We had baptisms at the foot of those falls on more than one occasion and we watched Daniel Dean climb the falls as a water moccasin climbed with him just a bit faster about 10 ft away. This particular camp is where deep spiritual decisions were made every day by Carissa Gillespie who each morning would move her hair back and forth and ask, “Should I wear my hair up or down today? Up or down? Up or down?” For the sake of time though, maybe I should get on with the story at hand by first taking one more little rabbit trail.

When I was attending Tyner Junior High we use to play this game we called bombardment in gym. Basically everyone was divided into two teams and no one could cross center court. Several of those red rubber balls were placed in the middle and when the whistle blew it was high energy team dodgeball; don’t get hit but hit everyone on the other team as hard as you possibly can. The team with the last man standing won and I loved it. I couldn’t wear my glasses but I could dodge those red blurs with the best of them thanks to my cat like reflexes developed from years of clumsiness. There is just nothing like going through puberty with big red whelps on the side of your face to highlight the acne.

Fast forward back to camp 1993 and it was a rainy night so we had to come up with something to do in the gym. We had three youth groups with about equal number of teens and a whole bunch of red rubber balls. It seemed logical for me to suggest bombardment and we decided we would have two youth groups face off and the winner take on the third. First up was Northside vs LightForce with Winder taking on the winner. Since I do not have a competitive bone in my body it was only natural that I only had one thought in mind and that was to WIN! On a side note, I was later told by Ashley Gard that right before we started play Jesse said, “Finally a game where you can hurt someone!” I guess he had the gift of prophecy.

Once Greg gave the signal to start, that gym became a bloody massacre of rubber ball induced carnage on both sides of the court. Bodies were falling like rain that evening as the onslaught of rubber balls were flying back and forth leaving nothing but the cries of pain and defeat in its wake.  I was focused, like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli; my eyes were intent on Billy and one of his teens, Tobin Hines, who I thought was the only real competition standing between myself and victory when one of my own came to stand beside me and said, “Rick, I think I threw my shoulder out!” As any loving youth pastor would do, I maintained my gaze on the task at hand and simply said with the deepest of compassion, “Go tell Billy.” I have no idea what the conversation was between them, but since Billy is less competitive than me and much more spiritual he must have had a similar reaction and told him to go see his wife Tina.

The battle of the church youth groups continued as more and more teens were being laid to waste and it was down to just a few survivors. Billy and I had begun to talk a little smack and the wagering of mess hall cleanup duties began to take center court. Suddenly, I heard the soft voice of that sweetest of all angels deep within my soul as my wife yelled, “RICK FRANCE!” which was quickly followed by Tina’s, “BILLY GINN! COME HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Timeout was reluctantly called and I could see the look of fear in Billy’s eyes as I’m sure he also saw in mine. We both walked over to our wives like two 5 year olds who had just gotten caught and yet we had no idea what we were in trouble for. There behind our most loving and understanding wives who had decreed their undying love to us for better or worse, stood Jesse. His arm was at a 90 degree angle from where it should have been. It was literally hanging in front of his chest and I must admit it sort of grossed me out because I had never seen anything so misplaced in my life. Jesse had this taunting grin on his face that seemed to say, “You guys are in trouble now!” I do not know what Kathy and Tina said because they were yelling at us both at the same time and who could understand either of them talking over each other in such a rude fashion. In my defense I tried to throw Billy under the bus and said, “I sent him to Billy” but that just seemed to get us both in that much more trouble.

After our wives finally calmed down, I noticed tears flowing down Jesse’s cheeks which I am sure had more to do with the verbal beat down he had just witnessed of these two pillars of God in his life; much more than any pain that he might have been suffering from the dislocation of his arm from his shoulder, but a decision was finally made to take him to the ER. I went to get his medical release form and met Kathy and Jesse at the car and we made the trek to this little hospital in Dahlonega that was more like a doctor’s office. While we were waiting I made that midnight phone call that every youth pastor dreads that basically starts like this, “I want you to know that Jesse is all right but . . .”

They gave Jesse a shot of dilaudid and while we waited on the arrival of his parents, Jesse became very talkative. There is an unspoken agreement between youth pastors and parents that says, “I won’t believe anything your teen says about you if you don’t believe anything he says about me.” I listened to Jesse say more that night than he had spoken in all the conversations the two of us had over all the years combined and Jesse was in one of my discipleship groups so we spoke with each other multiple times a week outside of church. Kathy and I learned a lot of family secrets that night and I can honestly say I don’t remember a single one of them; and if I did there is that unspoken agreement.

Not long after his parents arrived he was dismissed and he somehow managed to talk his parents into letting him return to camp with his arm in a sling; probably because they didn’t want to listen to him all the way back to Woodstock since he had yet to shut up. Whatever the reason the three of us returned to camp and the week went on without anymore incidents to speak of. Well, until RJ Dunn and Stephanie Neal attempted to not be outdone by each spraining their ankle and wrist respectively; at least neither required the dreaded phone call and a trip to the ER.

Every now and then I still get in trouble for not paying attention and maybe even a little competitive when I shouldn’t be. Most of all, I just miss those LightForce days and all of the teens that made those days so special. I still think of them as my own. We saw many of them come to Christ at those events with the three groups and thanks to Facebook I still get a few messages here and there from my kids. Many are still walking the walk and talking the talk. Some have become pastors, worship leaders and church leaders themselves but every one of my kids are still in my prayers. I still want to see each one put their faith where it matters most; know what you believe and why you believe it; keep those arms & shoulders square and take that leap of faith to that higher place Beyond Belief.

Rick E. France