The Weekend at Malibu

A “u-pick” strawberry field seemed an unlikely place for the invitation that changed my husband’s life . . . and mine.

“Have you ever thought about attending Young Life’s weekend for adults at Malibu Club?” asked our friend who had been picking berries a few rows away. “We’ve got a group going at the end of summer. You’ll have the time of your lives.”

I had thought about going. I had heard reports from exuberant teens at church when they returned from camp. “It was the best week of my life,” they all said. Maybe Malibu Club could be that significant for my husband, Randy, and me.

A few years earlier, however, I had dragged my non-Christian husband to hear a dynamic evangelist, and the evening turned out to be a disaster. He was angry that I had tried to manipulate him. I felt hurt and puzzled about why he didn’t respond to the message; I longed to share my faith with him. I finally realized only the Lord could work in Randy’s heart.

So when the Malibu invitation came, I hesitated. Instead of my usual rush to make things happen, I waited. A few days later, Randy asked if I could get information about the weekend.

“Sure,” I replied, sounding nonchalant, when in fact I wanted to shout, “Yes!”

With others from my church, we boarded the Malibu Princess in Vancouver, British Columbia, for the eight-hour voyage. The camp was about 100 miles north of Vancouver, situated at the mouth of the Princess Louisa Inlet, one of the most beautiful places in the world according to National Geographic — and Malibu campers.

Now we could have a glimpse of what teens experienced and why a week at Malibu ranked among the best of their lives. As we neared our destination, a small boat with a brass ensemble approached with two water-skiers in tow carrying Canadian flags. The pouring rain hadn’t dampened their enthusiasm.

We couldn’t have imagined what was in store for us. The leaders orchestrated all kinds of zany activities: water balloon launches, hula hoop races, licorice-eating contests, late-night competitions. We laughed until our sides ached, just like 16-year-olds.

Randy joined in all the activities, maneuvered through the ropes course and flew down the mountainside on a zip line, landing in the frigid water. He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.

The wild, crazy fun was balanced with times to reflect and learn about God. We gathered each evening for Young Life Club where we heard the most simple, yet profound messages about having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I noticed Randy listening intently.

On the last night, after hearing about Jesus’ tremendous love for us, we were asked to find a quiet place alone.

I walked out on a covered deck. Rain cascaded off the log rafters. Night’s blackness stretched out over the water. All I could see was the flashing green harbor light. It lit up the darkness with each pulse. I knew that even if I left Malibu without Randy responding to the Lord, I would continue walking by faith in my marriage.

I didn’t know that Randy stood on a deck below me, looking at the same beacon and praying his own prayer of surrender.

We had one final meeting in the big lodge. Our leader asked for anyone who had made a decision to accept Jesus as Lord and Savior to stand during the closing song.

Lord, it’s OK if Randy doesn’t stand. It really is, I prayed. But when we sang the last verse, Randy stood up. Tears slipped down his face. My small group from church gathered around him, all of us overcome with emotion.

I can’t remember a time when I was as wet and chilled to the bone as I was during those three days of rain at Malibu Club. But my heart had never been warmer.