30-30 Ministries blog

Host Your Own 30-30 Camp

Brad Gill — Sun, 13 Sep 2026 22:58:04 GMT

It’s pretty common that I take a call from someone wanting to help out with 30-30 Ministries. Those calls always excite me, too. Without volunteers offering time, talents and services, 30-30 can’t exist. We can’t serve Jesus, share His message and see lost people come to know Him without volunteers. And 30-30 takes a lot of volunteers to successfully pull off each camp. In 2025 alone, we hosted 29 camps, and we easily worked with several hundred volunteers to make these youth events run smoothly.

I’ll share with you how 90+ percent of our volunteers find themselves doing some type of ministry through 30-30.

It’s a surprise to some, but 30-30 doesn’t have a “laundry list” of things to do. In other words, folks don’t call, express an interest in serving and receive 20 options of different areas to serve. God has constructed 30-30 in a way that this ministry just doesn’t work like that. Not my rules, just the way God has this thing rolling forward. Let me explain…

Each camp is like its own little universe, with its own components and its own people in the ministry trenches serving alongside one another. Inside those camps are a lot of ministry opportunities: cooking, testimonials, guiding, cleaning game or fish, games, scrubbing tables, bringing ice, raising funds, securing lodging… get the picture?

So why not offer the above list each time someone calls? Well, we don’t have to. I have been amazed that when someone approaches us with a God-given burden for using hunting and fishing to serve Christ and host a 30-30 camp, all the manpower seems to come included.

Since our 2011 beginning, I’ve learned that there are countless Christian men and women out there who are passionate about hunting and fishing… and passionate about using these sports to reach the lost. We have partnered with some of the finest folks I’ve ever met, simple people who know hunting and fishing, love the Lord and want to combine the two. 30-30 gives them the opportunity to do that!

To date, 30-30 hasn’t begged anyone to host a camp. Yes, you’ll see us out promoting the ministry through speaking engagements and hunting shows, and you’ll see us posting on social media, and you may even get our e-mails. However, when it comes to doing shoulder-to-shoulder ministry with a new partner, we’d much rather the Holy Spirit make that initial contact with the person.

Is God dealing with you about serving inside 30-30? If He is, let me encourage you to pray about hosting a camp, or forming a group, maybe even within your church, to host a camp. The process to start is simple.

First, I invite you to listen to this 30-30 Ministries podcast on the beginning stages of what it takes to develop your own 30-30 Ministries Camp. If you’re feeling led to host your very own hunting or fishing Camp, then e-mail me at brad@3030ministries.org. Together we can plan a weekend of youth ministry through hunting and fishing. Please include your phone number. If God’s dealing with you, we want to hear about it.

Where My Story Starts

Brad Gill — Sun, 13 Sep 2026 22:53:32 GMT

Her name is Lauren. And that’s where my story starts.

In October 2002, she was 11 years old. The little girl from Morgan County grew up on a farm but had never done any hunting. I spent a lot of time in my high school and college years on that same farm so I had pretty much watched Lauren go from diapers to pre-teen.

I can’t remember what spurred me to one day put a rifle in her hands, but I did, and before I knew it, we were planning a trip down to see some friends in Emanuel County for a mid October deer hunt. Hosted by the Swainsboro Jaycees, it was a youth-only hunt where I’d be guiding Lauren in search of her first deer. It was the first time I’d ever taken a kid hunting. I was 28 years old, had been married all of eight months and would be leaving for Iowa two weeks later on a bow tag. I’d go up there and kill a 160-inch whitetail and come back to Georgia and rack up 11 deer that fall. Life was different. Up until that time in my life, hunting had been all about my accomplishments, my trophies, my platform to brag... certainly not about any one else. Just me.

Little did I know how that Saturday afternoon would produce a spark that forever changed the direction of my life.

We were in a wooden box blind overlooking a roadway and a small food plot out front. I remember laughing to myself watching Lauren kick off her boots because it was so warm. We sat and whispered back and forth waiting for prime time to arrive.

Just a few minutes before dark, I looked over my right shoulder and a button buck was walking into the roadway 20 yards away. An unexpected dose of adrenaline welled up inside me, the same way it did when I hunted alone and saw a deer.

We sat still as the deer calmly walked to the front of the ground blind. By some miracle, we were able to get that .243 out the window without being seen or heard. All that was left was a quick look through the scope and a short shot. However, with the deer only 10 yards from the barrel, all she saw was brown. In my first of many coachable moments, I had the scope’s power jacked up way too high.

It wasn’t until the little buck bounded off in front of the stand and into the food plot 30 yards away that Lauren was able to find that deer. I remember so clearly the still moment before the shot rang out across the Emanuel County countryside. The deer was quartering slightly away, just standing there looking back at us like a picture. Lauren put the crosshairs in the boiler room and fired. The deer stumbled and crashed off into a little bottom below us. There was no doubt that she had connected.

Lauren’s first reaction was to hit the ground running, socks and all. For me, I needed a minute to recover from whatever had suddenly come over me. That shot of adrenaline that had been pumping through my blood for the last couple of minutes had now turned into a case of the shakes and a build-up of emotions that I’m not sure I’d ever felt in a hunting situation up until that moment.

After I stalled for a couple of minutes and Lauren slipped her boots back on, we eased down the hill to where the button buck was standing. The deer made it maybe 20 yards. For Lauren, her first hunt was over. But for me, it was just the beginning.

Back at camp that night, Lauren was the only kid to have killed a deer. The guys and gals made a big splash about Lauren and that first deer. I stood back and just soaked.

Last Saturday while I was working the Buckarama, I saw Lauren. Now 32 years old and living in Monticello, her husband Adam and their son Henry were walking the aisles getting ready for hunting season. The young 7-year-old came up and shook my hand. The conversation quickly turned to the first deer he killed, a trip to Ossabaw they plan to take in a few years and Arkansas ducks and geese. The little guy reminded me a lot of his mama when she was a little girl.

After my deer hunt with Lauren, I’d spend the next 20 years of my life watching kids hunt or trap about every critter that walks this great state. I don’t do it just because statistics encourage us to preserve the future by taking a kid hunting. And I’m certainly not trying to paint some picture that I’m an extraordinary person—I am not. I do it because it feels good. Better said, it feels right. I do it because I’m trying to do what God has clearly told me to do with my remaining days of this earth. And I’ve learned that when you step out in obedience, God will bless that.

Watching them walk away at the Buckarama, that Emanuel County scene from 2002 played back in my mind. That October hunt produced Lauren’s first deer, a very special day she’ll always remember. For me, it kicked off a whole new life. It was on that day when my hunting passions took a turn from being so much about me and my arrogant and prideful ways and started becoming about others. Life really is sweeter when you live it for others.

If you’re feeling that inside nudging to take a kid hunting, or maybe do something entirely different with your hunting passion, let me encourage you to step out in obedience. You never know what God may be up to. I can promise you that He will bless your obedience.

When Trees Talk

Brad Gill — Fri, 28 Aug 2026 20:21:55 GMT

I had a sad day recently.

A piece of property that I’ve hunted for 10 years sold, and along with it went some fantastic deer hunting. A powerline runs through it that is a highway for whitetails. Over the years, I’ve killed several nice bucks and plenty of hamburger on that right-of-way. I believe that easy access to freezer meat is what I’ll miss most.

Three weeks ago I had to retrieve my behemoth of a double ladder stand. I needed help getting that thing off the tree and into the back of my truck, but I was about an hour ahead of my company. I did what I could safely do and then sat down on the edge of the powerline. I looked up through the woods to a spot maybe 50 yards away where a young buck stood back in November. Since I was just killing time, I decided to walk up there and have a look.

There was an old ravine that started about 30 yards from my stand and continued south. I was surprised how steep the ravine actually was. It looked so much shallower from my stand. Continuing on, the ravine got even steeper, and there was a deer trail where I’d watched deer cross many times over the years. When I got to the head of the ravine, I climbed out. On the bank stood an old hardwood tree that I’d never seen. It had an opening through its base so large that I could walk through it. I stood back and marveled for a couple of minutes at something I thought was pretty rare for the middle Georgia deer woods. Beyond the tree I could just make out the steps on my ladder stand.

I was almost mad at myself. In 10 years of hunting this spot, I’d never taken the time to walk up and make this discovery.

The older I get, or I’d like to think the more mature I become, the more I find the Lord speaking to me through things on the outside. As the years tick by, is there something within sight that I’m not making the time to see? Probably so.

While I only got a few minutes with an old tree that I’ll never see again, it spoke a pretty good message to me. I only wished I’d heard it speak 10 years ago.