75 YEARS OF CAMPING MINISTRY
Seventy-five years ago, one woman listened to a whisper from God and dared to believe that young people deserved a place set apart to encounter Him. What began in 1951 as a simple act of obedience in the mountains of Wyoming has become one of the most influential ministries in the history of the Church of God of Prophecy. Today, thousands of men and women serving as pastors, missionaries, worship leaders, teachers, and faithful church members can trace their spiritual journey back to a youth camp altar, a late-night prayer meeting, a cabin devotion, or a life-changing moment hearing from God at camp.
Camping ministry has never been merely about recreation. From its earliest days, camp provided something increasingly rare in a distracted world: uninterrupted time in the presence of God. There, young people stepped away from daily pressures and discovered who they were in Christ. Lifelong friendships were formed. Calls to ministry were answered. Hearts were healed. Lives were changed.
Much has changed since Elva Howard gathered the first campers in Story, Wyoming. The cabins, schedules, and activities may look different today, but the heartbeat remains the same. Today’s camps feature creative worship, leadership development, discipleship training, sports, music, and ministry experiences designed to connect with a new generation. Yet across every campground, retreat center, and youth gathering, one constant remains: young people are still encountering Jesus.
As we celebrate 75 years of the Camping Ministry in the Church of God of Prophecy, we honor the pioneers who invested their prayers, resources, and labor into this ministry. We also celebrate the countless testimonies that followed. For 75 years, camp has been a place where children and teenagers found salvation, received the baptism of the Holy Spirit, discovered their calling, and learned that God was not only the God of their parents, but their God as well.
Several years ago, Elva Howard penned a simple booklet entitled Dew Drops, detailing some of her ministry experiences. Central to her stories is the birth of the camping ministry. The book contains so much more than a retelling of history. It is the testimony of what happens when God’s people listen to and obey the voice of the Lord, modeling to young hearts that they, too, can hear His voice.
Following is the chapter, “A Dream Develops: Youth Camp,” from Dew Drops:
“It is still amazing to me how God works, but I have learned through His Word when He purposes to work, nothing or no one can stop (hinder) it. I also learned He looks for someone who will obey Him and believe Him even when all circumstance are not favorable. No lasting endeavor ever begins with ‘just happened to appear.’
“This was true with Youth Camp—this dream had been in my heart and the faraway recesses of my mind for a number of years. I lived in an area that was sparsely populated (church-wise). It was an era when few young people had accepted the challenge of Christian living. This meant that there were few or no young people at all, my age, in churches where my father pastored. Rather than this discouraging me and driving me into the world to join the others, it drove me into an insatiable search for God to satisfy an inner longing common to all young people.
“During these years, I became aware of a ministry to youth and became involved in teaching poverty-stricken children on Saturday afternoons. I called on the parents of these under-privileged children to see if they would be willing for their children to come and hear Bible stories. Little did I know that this was God giving me an opportunity to study, prepare, and experience the challenges, disappointments, and successes of a teacher.
“Now being too old for teaching dolls at the windmill, here were real children, squirming and wiggling, to be taught about God. This function later was known as Gleaners, but at that time, it had no particular title.
“I first began thinking of youth worshipping in a ‘nature setting’ while on a family outing when I was young. We camped in the mountains near a sparkling, crystal-clear stream. The smell of the woods, the whisper of the breeze through the trees, the crackling of the underbrush as the deer sneaked through the campsite, along with the singing of the birds, gave me a spiritual sense of being. I felt God in His creations. Though only about 13 years of age at the time, I meditated on Him as the clear water rushed and swirled around me. I thought, ‘How great it would be to have a group, like me, worshipping in similar surroundings.’ However, I said nothing about this; it was my secret.
“A year passed, and again it was summertime. The temperature in our little city was over 100 degrees. It was nearing the July 4th celebration. A large carnival was coming to town. The pastor (my dad) began to think of the young people in his congregation. He did not want them to go to the carnival (that was a ‘no, no’ activity in those years), nor did he want them to feel they had had no 4th of July activity. He and my mother worked feverishly to prepare a camping trip. Everyone loaded into the back of a big truck, and we took off for the mountains. Mother cooked for all of these energetic youth with the help of one of the men members. Another adult initiated some fun activities while Dad centered on campfire worship and sunrise meditations. This was a memorable time for everyone.
“So once again, I found myself by the mountain brook, thinking on the grandeur and to know the God of the outdoors. We took long hikes up the mountain (Owl Creek Mountains), and there, also, I kept thinking of ways God could manifest Himself to those who worshipped in the outdoors. A dream was forming as the seeds had been planted in fertile soil. It would be years, but, eventually, that seed would spring forth.
“Some 19 years later, in October 1945, I was appointed State Victory Leaders Secretary in Wyoming, a position in which I worked until September 1957. It was while serving in this capacity that I felt the need of special, spiritual help and fellowship for our young people. I wanted to see them trained in the Church work and for them to have opportunities to fellowship with each other.
“The dream, my safe-guarded secret, was taking form in my now adult (and more trained) mind. It began to intrude itself into my activities. I thought of it when I was alone; I dreamed of it in the night, and, finally, I revealed what had become my secret dream. My husband immediately became supportive. My cousin, Jack C. Decker, a pastor, zealously shared my enthusiasm, and plans began to formulate for the first youth camp in our Church organization.
“To finance this venture, we solicited wholesale houses and meat companies as well as flour mills and a sugar factory. Not all of these responded, but enough did to keep us going. Some, who were avid hunters, donated wild meat from their freezers. We accepted all of these gifts. We ground the meat into either hamburger or the makings for chili. The State Game and Fish Commission, at a huge lake near us, gave or threw away all the lake water fish because they devoured the trout. Since everyone knew we were preparing for a youth camp, with very little money, they readily told us of this, which we considered our good fortune.
“One of our members and her husband took me to the lake. What a sight! These huge fish had been trapped into a smaller area of the lake, and there we picked the fish up by tubs full. I was so excited at what the Lord had provided that I ran into the water, picking up the fish and shouting praises to God at the same time. To me, this was God supplying our needs.
“Little did I realize what it was going to be like to clean, fillet, and package these for the deep freeze. Stinky, yes, but aren’t all fish stories?
“Days before the time set for the camp, my kitchen was in a buzz. Ladies came in and helped make cookies, cakes, pies, and such, which we froze. All of this seemed to be the cheaper way to feed the campers. An old, temperamental mimeograph machine was set up, and all the materials for the camp, including the lessons, were run off. Sometimes, we wondered which had the most ink—the tank of the machine, the paper, or us. At any rate, it was great work . . . it wasn’t from sun to sun; it was from sun to after midnight. But who cared? We were making steps toward the fulfillment of a dream, which had been buried in the soul of an individual who believed God would do all He had promised.
“Joseph dreamed, and his dreams kept him going. Tired? Of course, we were tired and sometimes things looked bad, but always, I could see young people fellowshipping and worshipping God somewhere in the great outdoors.
“August 5, 1951, the gates of the Presbyterian Campground at Story, Wyoming (a small resort in the Big Horn Mountains), swung wide to the first youth camp. What a day it was as excited young people came. They didn’t know what it was all about, but they were there. Before the week was over, just like all succeeding camps, the blessings had fallen.
“Much could be said about this campsite. The dorms were rustic mountain cabins, little more than a shelter. One could lie on the bunk and be lulled to sleep by the roar of the swift-moving mountain stream nearby. It was good to make friends with this stream . . . it was the wash basin. Can you imagine (divorced from our now modern facilities) what it would look like early in the morning to see a group of campers washing their faces, as well as brushing their teeth, along this stream? Don’t say ‘ugh’ too fast because in the afternoon, when temperatures were at a high peak, it was a great place for a water fight.
“And what about showers? There was one lone shower house. This was a luxury, since the proprietors had installed this first one during the beginning of the season. Now all we had to do was designate the shower times for the boys’ cabins and for the girls’ cabins. All went well until the hot water turned cold. So what? We did have a shower house. The next year, we would have indoor plumbing, but for this first year, it was the famous, old outhouse.
“What a sight at night to see flashlights on the path; for sure, they were not out there by themselves; there was someone on that path besides the mountain squirrels, gophers, deer, and such.
“But who cared about lone shower houses, outhouses, or such when it was such fun to be together? Through those first nights, giggles rang out in the air, blending with the singing of the brook. It was just fun being there.
“That laughing brook had many purposes, for it was here on a Saturday afternoon that a calm spread over the deep portions, and many, who during the week had allowed the Lord Jesus Christ into their lives, followed the officiating minister into a meaningful baptismal service.
“From the beginning, the State Overseers of Wyoming, G. C. Decker, and South Dakota, F. E. Van De Venter, were very supportive. They willingly did anything that needed to be done: ran errands for special needs, sold refreshments, cut wood for cooking, and volunteered for whatever else was needful to make this activity worthwhile to the youth of their states. Montana, North Dakota, and Minnesota participated the following years.
“For these young people from small churches, who had such few times to fellowship with others their age, this was an oasis in their year—a time of refreshing, a time to make friends, and a time of learning the truths of God’s Word.
“Camp was now a reality—my dream had come true! I never thought of it becoming something for young people throughout the church. My dream was to fill a need for this group. I was praising God that He had heard my prayer and was filling a need, and this was a beginning.”
