When people think about ministry at a Kanakuk, they usually picture counselors leading devotionals, speakers on stage, or worship echoing through the K-Dome. Those roles are vital. But some of the most meaningful ministry moments happen far from the spotlight, often with a tool belt on.
I serve at Kanakuk, maintaining cabanas, dining halls, pools, and activity facilities. On the surface, my job is about fixing what’s broken and keeping things running smoothly. But over time, I’ve come to understand that this work is much more than maintenance. It’s a ministry.
Kanakuk is a place where kids encounter Christ in powerful, life-shaping ways. That kind of impact doesn’t happen by accident; it happens because an entire community works together behind the scenes. Every repaired door, every working light, every safe pool check creates an environment where Kampers can focus on what really matters: growing in their relationship with Jesus.
Ministry through maintenance starts with serving without being seen. Most Kampers will never know who fixed the broken bench or unclogged the drain before breakfast. But they feel the result. They feel safe. They feel cared for. They feel welcomed. In that sense, maintenance becomes an act of hospitality, preparing a place where hearts can be open, and distractions fade away.
There’s also a ministry in the relationships formed along the way. Working at Kamp means interacting daily with counselors, program staff, leadership, and volunteers. Sometimes it’s a quick conversation while repairing something. Other times, it’s helping someone problem-solve when stress is high and time is short. Being calm, patient, and encouraging in those moments matters. It reflects Christ just as clearly as words ever could.
Some of the most meaningful ministry moments I’ve experienced happened while fixing ordinary things. A counselor opens up about a hard week. A staff member asks for prayer. A teammate just needs someone to listen. A baptism in a pool or lake. Those moments aren’t on the schedule, but they’re holy all the same.
Maintenance also teaches humility. There’s nothing glamorous about scraping paint, clearing drains, or repairing equipment late in the day. But Jesus modeled servant leadership, and maintenance work lives squarely in that posture. It’s choosing faithfulness over recognition and excellence over convenience. When done with the right heart, even the most routine task becomes worship. I have heard it said, ‘Everyone wants to change the world, no one wants to do the dishes.’
I’ve learned that stewardship is a form of discipleship. Caring well for the facilities God has entrusted to this Kamp is a way of honoring Him. These buildings and spaces support moments that Kampers may remember for the rest of their lives; first prayers, first commitments, first understanding of God’s love. Being part of that, even indirectly, is a privilege.
Working maintenance at Kanakuk has reshaped how I view calling. Ministry isn’t limited to teaching or speaking—it’s lived out through obedience, service, and consistency. God uses willing hands just as much as willing voices. At the end of the day, my job is to fix things. But my purpose is bigger than repairs. It’s about creating a space where ministry can flourish, where joy can happen freely, and where lives can be changed. Whether I’m maintaining a cabana, checking on a pool, or repairing a dining hall, I’m reminded that every role matters in God’s kingdom.
Sometimes ministry looks like a sermon. Sometimes it looks like a wrench. Both can be used by God.
