Why I Almost Left the YOB Retreat, and What Happened When I Stayed

The air felt thick with something heavy as I rolled up to this year’s YOB retreat – nothing like the old days when I’d show up buzzing with excitement, counting down the moments to new insights or good laughs with the crew. I'm just gonna be real with you: the start of this story might feel dark, but stick with me.

In past retreats, I’d be all fired up, dreaming about what I’d hear or who I’d connect with; this time, it was a different story. A hollow ache settled in my gut, and it wasn’t until the week before that I’d even decided to attend – more from a gut feeling I couldn’t skip this retreat than any real excitement for it.

That emptiness hit harder when I arrived. It wasn’t anyone’s fault or some big event – just this quiet void left from a summer without my church's usual small groups, the first summer they decided not to hold them. I had no idea this decision would affect me like it did. I’d been drifting, and it showed. Not even listening to praise and worship music made a difference.

Stepping into this retreat sparked something familiar: that sense of community I’d missed.

A couple of weeks before the retreat, I sent a lengthy text to Tom telling him about my slump, including doubts about myself and my being on the YOB leadership team. He wrote back saying, “The insecurities are understandable. I feel them too sometimes. I think you're doing great as a leader even with all you're facing. You even have a leadership plaque to prove it.”

Those words nudged me in a more positive direction, but only for a few days. Then the retreat arrived.

I thought seeing fellow YOBBERS would bring a hopeful closing to my year. I secretly hoped the Holy Spirit would shake me out of my slump, but – spoiler alert – it took a solid 24 hours for that spark to catch.

This being my last year in leadership, I was dead-set on making it special for Tom and the other leaders. I pitched in where I could – helping at the sign-in table and making signs for the bedrooms.

Seeing all these other brothers after almost a year should’ve been a high point. A few guys came around with hugs that warmed me up, but most kept their distance. That stung more than I expected, making me wonder if I’d done something in the past year to offend them.

That first evening after dinner, our entire group did a classic vulnerability exercise, and let me tell you, it tested me more than previous years. Standing for long periods is a struggle for me, so I remained seated throughout and raised my hand as an alternative for participation. Next thing I knew, my hand kept popping up – prompt after difficult prompt pertaining to me, mostly stuff dragging me down. I couldn’t shake the gloom.

During worship that first night, I saw a couple of guys leaning on each other, holding hands, heads on shoulders. I’ll admit – I felt jealous. Later, lying in bed, my head was a mess. It was the only time I thought about leaving in the middle of the night. I truly think the only thing that stopped me was that I didn't drive my own vehicle.

Sleep was all but lost for all the thoughts bouncing around; at one point, I went to some really dark places.

The next morning, our entire group walked through a prayer labyrinth. I grumbled to myself, “I really don’t wanna do this.” As I entered the labyrinth, two thoughts kept nagging me: “I must be doing something wrong; it’s taking forever to get to the center” and “Don’t fall, don’t fall.”

Walking through the labyrinth should’ve calmed me, but it didn't. When I finally reached the center, I was hoping for some big revelation from God about what I needed to work on in my life, but I got nothing. That emptiness chewed at me. What did this say about where I was in my spiritual journey?

After lunch, we had over three hours of downtime. At first I sat alone, watching guys hold hands and cuddling, and I couldn’t help thinking, “Why doesn't this ever happen to me when I'm here, especially after being part of this community for so long?”

I shared my feelings later with my tribe, or small group. My tribemates appreciated my sharing and wanted me to know how much I mattered to them and this community. I felt a huge weight lifted.

Tom spoke with our entire group later that night, also sharing a song by Kings Kaleidoscope, "A Prayer." I couldn't help being touched by this song, because I could relate to all of it:

If I fall or if I misstep

If I fall or if I misstep

Will you catch me with my last breath?

Will you be there for me after?

‘Cause I’m wasting in this silence

And my fear is vicious violent

I’m a child thrown to lions

Is there hope on the horizon?

If I fall or if I misstep

Jesus, where are You?

Am I still beside You?

Those lyrics hit me hard – like they were written for me. I’d been fighting my own lions at this YOB retreat: doubt, loneliness, fear.

After Tom shared about our ministry, another YOBBER suggested we surround him and the three board members present to pray over them. Something broke loose inside; that was one of the most moving prayers I've ever heard.

Worship started for the second night, and I decided to stop overthinking and just let it flow. The Spirit showed up – big time. It was the deepest worship I’ve ever felt, topping even my church’s best days. Afterward, I thanked the guys who organized our time, spilling how I’d shown up with a head full of doubts. They were grateful, and one said, “Glad so many people helped this year – it did what it was supposed to.” 

A few minutes later, I was sitting by myself watching everyone when a YOBBER came over and asked me how I was doing. I told him about all I was going through since arriving.

He responded, "There's nothing wrong with initiating a cuddle or hand-holding. I can see how your age difference might be a problem. Some people may wonder if there is an ulterior motive behind it."

While saying these things, he put his arm over my shoulders, and I reached for his hand. I can't tell you what a wonderful feeling that was. I truly felt seen, heard, and loved at that moment.

In my 63 years, I've only felt that way with two other people: my best friend when he stood up to his mother who’d told him not to move in with me because I might make him gay; the other, my brother, who I came out to over thirty years ago. I realized then that he was the only person in my family who didn't treat me any differently because of who I was.

Upon returning home, I reflected on the YOB retreat for a couple of days and pieced together my weekend. The devil had been at work – little slip-ups like skipping prayer and not reading my Bible had snowballed into stealing my joy. But God sent my tribemates and a few other brothers just when I needed them. I could’ve brushed them off, but I knew He saw me at my lowest.

The lessons stick with me. When I’m down, that’s when I’m supposed to lean on God’s strength. But man, I’ve let my head get the better of me, letting the devil pull me off track. Even after the YOB retreat, that fight lingers.

The Bible reminds us in John that the devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy; that he's a master manipulator and liar. Sometimes we forget that. The thoughts in my head are like a battlefield, and I definitely felt like I was in a battle for part of the YOB retreat. But our group’s laughter, our group prayer, and that song’s cry – all pulled me back from the brink.

I see how the devil tried to wreck my weekend with small distractions, but God’s timing was spot-on. I could’ve stayed bitter all weekend, but the Holy Spirit’s move was too real to ignore.

I’m reminded that faith isn’t a straight line – it’s a messy dance of falling and getting back up, doubting and trusting.

If you’ve ever felt out of place in your church or fought unseen battles, just know you’re not alone. God is always by your side. That's something we have to keep in mind, especially when we're down.

For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.

– Ephesians 6:12-13 (ESV)

When have you felt tempted to leave a place? What happened when you stayed?