Campfire Talk by Akos Konkoly

Last Week of Camp (August 10-15, 2025)

Hi everyone, my name is Akos, I am a second year on fun squad, and I am studying industrial and systems engineering at the University of Minnesota twin cities.

Many people don’t know this but I was never a camper here. My first time at camp was as a counselor in 2022.

I didn’t sign up with anyone, I didn’t know what this place looked like, or what the schedule was like, or if I would even belong. But that first week was the first time I had ever felt so welcomed by and connected with a bunch of strangers. The most memorable part that I noticed was the difference in energy of the camp from Sunday to Friday morning.

It was the community that came from that first week that got me hooked. And the base of that community was love.

The king of love I’m talking about is spiritual love. The love that says good morning, rings the bell, and that greets you at morning worship. The love that serves you food in the dining hall, the love that blows whistles and yells at you, the love that keeps you safe while swimming and delivers your mail. The love that leads by example in the cabins or the love that makes you vulnerable so you can make a new friend. This kind of sacrificial love is the same kind of love that we see in Jesus.

It wasn’t anything flashy that made me feel like I belonged. It was just the consistent showing up, with patience, and kindness, and some weird crazy energy at 8am. It was people who didn’t know me, that decided I mattered anyway.

That’s when things started to click. Community doesn’t just happen, it’s built, slowly, through little acts of love that stack up over time. There’s a story — about a traveller walking through a desert. The sun is beating down. He’s tired, sunburnt, and running low on water. Every step feels heavier than the last. He’s been walking alone for what feels like days, and he’s starting to wonder if he’ll even make it. Then finally — just when he thinks he can’t go any farther — he sees a well in the
distance. He stumbles toward it, his heart racing with hope. But when he gets there, he finds the rope is frayed and the bucket is missing. The water is deep, just out of reach. Close enough to see, but not to grasp. He sinks to his knees, angry, defeated. After all that walking, after all that hoping, he still feels alone. And just then, another traveller appears. Not someone riding in on a horse with a flag and music and a full water bottle — just someone who looks like they’ve been through the desert too. The second traveller sees him sitting there, looks at the well, and then quietly reaches into their pack and pulls out a bucket with a strong rope tied to it. It’s not shiny. It’s worn. It’s clearly been used. But it works. And the traveller says, “This isn’t mine either. Someone lent it to me once when I needed it. And now it’s your turn.” And then — maybe most importantly — they don’t walk away. They stay. They draw the water together. They both drink. And then they sit in the shade for a while, before walking forward side by side.

This story of the traveller reminds me of how communities like this one at Spirit in the Pines are made. This camp community lifted me up when I felt like an outcast, and that pushed me to build communities based off love in places back at home after camp.

I tried to build the kind of community I found at camp with new friends, with teammates, and with coworkers. We all end up at wells like that — tired, unsure, and thinking we’re supposed to have all the answers or fix everything ourselves. But love—the kind of love that builds community—shows up quietly, it offers what it has, and it stays long enough to walk with you. And you know what’s maybe the most sacred part of that story? It is that love knows that the bucket was never its to keep. It was always meant to be passed on.

Caleb has been doing these things called song prayers with us this summer and there is a song by my favorite band that reminds me that the most powerful gift of all is the gift of love. So while you listen to this song you can close your eyes, look around at the trees and the lake, or smile at the people near you and give them a little hug.

John 4:11 states “Dear friends, since God has loved us we also ought to love one another.” So as we continue throughout this week, I challenge you to build this community and to share your story with someone new. I promise this will make your memories from this week that much sweeter and so that when it comes time to open up and be yourself with someone outside of camp you’ll have some practice and can lean on that love that is within each and every one of us.

Akos playing the guitar the last week of camp (second from right)