Big Announcement!

Church Camp, a book. By me.

Camp.

Church camp.

Young Life camp.

Camp, camp, camp.

I feel like I’m starting to write a line poem with camp as the main theme, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I should probably throw in some shaving cream or perhaps a 100-foot-long sundae trough. Give me some messy games, Serious Night, a pristine collision of God and creation, and perhaps a night under the stars. Then the poem will really take off.

But I didn’t set out to write a poem about church camp — instead, I’m setting out to write a book about church camp.

After all, camp holds some of my dearest memories. As a camper, a summer staffer, a leader, and eventually, a camp speaker in white evangelical camps for nearly two decades, camp was not only where I spent a good portion of my twenties and thirties, but a place that shaped me and formed me. In its many different forms, camp birthed some of my dearest friendships; it begged me wrestle with countless theological truths; it made me who I am today.

And camp is a place I hold in deep tension.

When my own boys became old enough to attend camp this summer, I didn’t know whether or not I could — or should — send them there. For instance, could I send them to a place whose memories I hold dear, even if I know this place holds a stance on LGBTQ+ individuals I don’t support? Where is the line between exposing children to values I no longer wholeheartedly embrace or promote? Is there even a line? Does it matter?

(Dear reader, the answer for now is not yet. We’ll see what happens when next summer rolls around).

As per the book, when hype began to die down from my first book, I set out to tackle future book projects. Unfortunately, this thing called the pandemic also made its way into my life (and yours, and all of ours) around the same time. I had a hard time wrapping my brain around big ideas, let alone around entire writing projects.

After a good while, though, a theme emerged: the both/and. The pandemic was a time marked by paradox, when the tension of two opposite things proved true at the very same time. Joy and pain collided in a single second; hope and despair showed up around every corner.

Eventually, I landed on a concept I believed just right for that theme. But then, for a myriad of reasons, that particular concept didn’t happen; the timing no longer felt right.

Still, I was left with a single question: when have I experienced paradox in my life?

That’s when I landed on camp.

The both/and of the proposal’s brief summary reads like this:

Through memoir, cultural commentary, and journalism, author and theologian Cara Meredith reveals the truth about the week-long evangelical summer camp experience in the United States, how it’s a telling microcosm of evangelicalism as a whole, and helps readers reject the negatives, hold on to the positives, and imagine new ways forward in the life of faith.

I am delighted to announce that I’ve signed a book deal with Broadleaf for (the tentatively-titled) Church Camp: How White Evangelicalism Betrayed a Generation of Seekers.

I know, we’re going there.

But I’m excited to introduce to you some of the things I’ve been wrestling with for the last decade, just as I’m honored to share some of the stories I’ve collected in interviews over the last year.¹

The book won’t release until early 2025, but for now, I invite you to celebrate with me. It’s happening! Another book!

Let’s go!

1. I’m starting one last round of interviews now. Do you have a story you think I should hear? Hit me up!