For years, I was a church camp counselor after having been a camper myself. I eventually left both the church and the camp at the same time, after two incidents broke my spirit.

The first was when the counselors were taken to a supporting church for a service before camp began. From the pulpit, politics were preached openly, followed by a blatantly hateful sermon about homosexuality. The second came when the camp’s owner and pastor told a pre-teen camper that their sibling was going to burn in hell for being gay. That child hadn’t asked for the conversation, and the sibling wasn’t even at camp. I watched other kids come to me afterward, carrying their pain and confusion, searching for someone to love them instead of preaching hate.

That week, I did my best to shield children from harm. I reminded them that the greatest commandment is to love — to love one another always. It is not our place to judge. We are called to be a positive influence, to show compassion, and to embody love.

Later, I would watch documentaries that revealed how camps like this use psychological tactics to wear kids down, keeping them exhausted until late in the week when they are most vulnerable — then pushing them into highly emotional moments that break them open. What I once thought was spiritual transformation now looked like manipulation.

I’ll never feel the same way about churches again. But I carry with me the lessons of that first small-town church that taught me love comes before anything else. I will spend my days living in that love, offering compassion, and hoping others will one day see the light of grace too.