“How do I prepare my son for his first time at camp?”

It’s a question we hear often—sometimes asked with excitement, sometimes with nervous energy, sometimes with that quiet ache of letting go. Maybe he’s still small, still climbing into your lap for stories and night-time prayers. Or maybe he’s taller now, his voice changing, his eyes already scanning the horizon for what’s next. Either way, you’re sending him off. Into the woods. Into a week or more without you. Into an experience you hope shapes him in ways that matter.

So, how do you prepare him?

We’ll point you to the Parent Handbook—where you’ll find packing lists, drop-off instructions, tips about mail and meds and the ever-present reminder not to send food in the duffel. All good things. But the truth is, the most important thing your son will bring to Northern Frontier won’t be zipped into a suitcase or stuffed into a stuff sack.

What matters most is the heart he carries with him.

Because this camp—this quiet outpost tucked deep in the Adirondacks—is more than a collection of cabins and trails. It’s a place where something sacred happens. And it doesn’t begin with the gear. It begins with a heart that’s open.

A heart open to adventure. Open to discomfort. Open to early mornings, cold lake water, and long hikes that leave you tired but proud. A heart open to worshipping around a campfire and cracking open the Bible in the middle of a canoe trip. A heart open to friendship, and prayer, and moments where the silence is so thick with God’s presence it’s hard to know what to say.

You can’t force that kind of openness. But you can pray for it. You can talk about it. You can set the table.

Because what we’re doing here isn’t just building grit or wilderness skills or leadership potential—though those things come. What we’re doing here is preparing young men to meet God in the wilderness. We’re laying the groundwork for them to discover who they are, and more importantly, whose they are.

I think of Proverbs 3:5–6:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

That kind of trust doesn’t come in one night. It’s cultivated over time, through challenge and reflection, through struggle and surrender. And somehow, camp accelerates that process. The absence of screens, the presence of godly men, the rhythm of worship and play and solitude—these things create space for God to do deep work.

Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s dramatic. Sometimes it looks like a homesick boy staying one more night. Sometimes it’s a teenage camper raising his hand at a campfire to share what the Lord is teaching him. Sometimes it’s a counselor, once a camper himself, reading Scripture with the same younger boys he used to be.

So how do you prepare your son?

Pack the bag. Label the socks. Send a letter or two.

But most of all, prepare his heart. Talk about what it means to grow. Talk about what it means to listen. Pray for courage. Pray for joy. Pray that the seeds God plants at Northern Frontier will take root and bear fruit for years to come.

Because this camp isn’t about the checklist. It’s about transformation.

And that starts before he even steps out of the car door.