06 FEB 2026
"AWE"
This Year’s Theme for Swamp Camp, Rooted in Psalm 115
By Shikha, S.C.M.A. Communications Director
Awe does not arrive with noise. It does not push its way into the room or announce its importance. Awe comes quietly, almost gently, when the soul realizes it is standing on holy ground and instinctively lowers its voice.
Psalm 115 opens not with instruction, but with reorientation. A soft turning of the heart away from itself. Not to us, Lord.
As if Scripture understands how naturally we drift toward the center. How subtly we begin to measure worth by visibility, impact by applause, faithfulness by results. How easily we forget that God was never meant to orbit around us.
Awe begins here. Not in excitement. Not in activity. Not in moments we try to engineer. It begins in the quiet realization that God is God, and we are not. And instead of threatening us, this truth steadies us.
This year, AWE is our theme. Not as a feeling we try to generate, not as an emotional peak we attempt to recreate, but as a posture we choose to return to when everything else pulls at our attention.
Because awe is not something we produce through effort. It is something that finds us when striving finally loosens its grip.
Awe happens when we stop carrying what was never placed in our hands to begin with. When we release the weight of recognition. When we let go of the quiet pressure to prove that something worked. When we remember that glory does not rest on human strength, charisma, or control.
Not to us. These words lower us, but not into insignificance. They lower us into truth. And in that lowering, something sacred happens. Our vision clears. Our breathing slows. Our hearts soften.
We begin to see God more clearly, not as distant or abstract, but as deeply aware.
A God who notices the quiet child sitting just outside the circle. A God who sees obedience that never receives a thank-you. A God who understands the unspoken prayers we don’t know how to articulate. A God who is present long before we arrive and faithful long after we leave.
Psalm 115 reminds us that God does not need defending. He does not need proving. He does not need help being glorious. He simply is. And when we finally stop trying to carry glory for ourselves, we become free to stand in wonder at who He is.
Children will arrive carrying questions they cannot yet name. Stories shaped by places we have never been. Hurts we will never fully see. Leaders will pour themselves out in ways that feel ordinary, repetitive, unseen. Faithfulness will look quiet. Obedience will feel small.
Moments will pass without being recorded. Conversations will be forgotten by everyone except God. Seeds will be planted with no visible sign of growth.
And still, God will be glorified.
Because awe does not demand explanation. It does not rush toward answers. It does not need constant reassurance. Awe rests in reverence.
This year, we begin not with ambition, but with reverence. Let this become the quiet prayer beneath everything we do. Let it steady us when expectations rise. Let it humble us when things go well. Let it comfort us when the fruit is not immediately visible.
Let it shape how we speak, how we serve, how we lead. May AWE return to our hearts, not as a rush of emotion, but as a deep, settled knowing. A knowing that does not need to be loud to be true.
God is here. God is aware. God is worthy. And that, that is enough.