Stealing Cookies

Nathan Stam
Children/Communications Pastor

I remember it well. There I was in the middle of the night involved in a nefarious scheme to fill my hungry and growling stomach. The kitchen was quiet and dark, and the storage areas were filled with endless and bountiful provisions. The cookies that I was eating were perfect--not too hard and not too soft. The end result of a baker's labor. I had never felt more guilty in my life. Or more alive. That could possibly have been the result of all the sugar.

Let me rewind. The year was 1997 and I was ending my sophomore campaign at NCSU. I had become involved in Young Life and along with several others traveled up to Lake Saranac, New York for something called "Work Week" where Young Life leaders spent time cleaning up the camp from the winter and getting it ready for the summer.

We worked hard. Cutting down trees with chainsaws, painting, putting out the dock into the lakes in our wetsuits. And we were fed well for our toil. But I hope it's not too hard to believe that one night as we lay down to sleep a friend of mine mentioned he was hungry and my stomach rumbled in response. Our options were limited. We were in the middle of nowhere, did not have the foresight to bring any snacks, and had no hunting equipment.

Fortunately, my friend had an idea, and the means by which to execute said idea. The plan was simple: as our forefathers had done long before, raid and pillage the camp kitchen. The means was also simple: my friend mysteriously had the key.

So that brings us full circle to me munching on cookies in the dead of night in upstate New York. After eating our fill we slipped out as quietly as we came in and retired to our beds with a slight sugar buzz, but feeling much better than before about the next day's work.

It was a fun memory, but every time I read Philippians 3:19 I feel slightly guilty whenever my stomach begins to growl in the middle of the night.