Beyond Revisited

My initial encounter with Beyond Malibu’s base camp took place on a warm June evening as I began my first summer of guiding. Etched into my memory from that day is the overflowing emotion and excitement of the second-year staff as they returned to a place that they obviously considered “home”. As I wandered through the empty buildings that evening, just shells really, and then headed off with a machete to clear overgrown trails in the fading light, I wondered what incredibly special thing had happened here the previous summer.

Now, back for a visit with my wife and boys almost 20 summers after that initial impression, I experience once again the joy of returning “home” to a place, to a ministry, to a community that has profoundly shaped my life. During this week in base camp, as a very small spiritual discipline, I’ve chosen to let the distant roar of the Albert Creek falls be my reminder of the constant presence and faithfulness of Jesus. It’s quite simple really -- all I need to do is listen.

Oh yes, I’ve tried this exercise from time to time in other settings -- most memorably on the mountains and ridges of Beyond during my guiding years. Back then, with incredible waterfalls in every direction -- their sounds echoing off rock walls, down glacial cirques and across snowfields -- I didn’t hear any of it unless I tuned my ears. Unless I stopped to listen. Not surprisingly, my experience this week in base camp was no different.

As I listened for the falls, other sounds, some familiar and some not so, caught my ear.

The ringing of the “bell” :: The same bent pipe from long ago -- rung loud and long -- ringing out the rhythm of life at camp. The bell announces meals and the start of the work day, alerts the camp to arriving participants or supplies at the dock, calls staff to opening skit, Friday night club, worship or bible study, and joyously rings the end of work projects for the day. No alarm clock sounds as sweet as the Beyond bell ringing in a new day of adventure in base camp.

A generator, a compressor and a table saw :: Thankfully, sounds in this decibel range are not typical of base camp. However the “Red House” was demolished this spring and a new Red House -- the latest in a line of rustically elegant structures – has risen quickly in its place. In the past 20 years, the “abandon shells” mentioned above have been nurtured, overhauled and, when necessary, completely replaced. The new buildings are more functional, more lasting and more appealing to the eye. Suddenly work stops, the generator powers down, and I hear the sweet sound of the Albert Falls come flooding back into base camp like high tide over the dock trail.

Laughter through an Open Door :: This week was probably blessed with an extra amount of laughter because of a Beyond first. Using two newly remodeled campsite shelters as a base, a Young Life group from the Seattle area was the first Open Door group to “Go Beyond”. The group interacted with the base camp staff during “buddy time” and shared meals as well as a memorable worship experience. Intermixed with hiking to Albert Falls and kayaking to Chatterbox, assisting staff with basic work projects became a special event in itself and a new friend became one’s highlight of the week.

The Beyond Creek Falls :: During my summers on staff, one of my favorite base camp activities was walking up the creek bed to the Beyond falls a quarter-mile upstream. By the end of my fifth year in camp I felt as though the larger pools and boulders were old friends just waiting for my summer return. Well, the falls continues on as faithfully as ever but the boulders are gone or, more likely, covered by tons of new rock. The creek bed has literally filled to the brim with granite. As heavy rains rush down off One Eye, the swollen creek now acts like an unmanned fire hose – choosing a new course almost at will. These changes are likely the greatest danger to base camp today.

The Hum of Community :: Though the folks staffing the Beyond positions have changed multiple times over since my day, the pulse of community here has a comfortable familiarity. The weekly routine has changed little, the cooks still give a “vision” for the meal and staff continue to lift the folks on Beyond trips up in prayer. Voices from late night gatherings on the Red House porch, fueled by coffee and popcorn, evoke powerful memories. An impromptu Mexican dinner topped off with a makeshift piñata and uproarious laughter reminds me of so many times when we made our own fun, and were so much the better for it.

I recognize the same personalities: the camp comedian, the musicians, the dishwashing volunteer extraordinaire, the youngster soaking up the richness of the summer. Each person comes as a broken vessel offered to Christ. As the summer progresses, Christ forms them all together into a community to reflect His image and serve in this ministry for just a season. Returning for a second summer of guiding, I found myself experiencing the powerful “I’m home!” emotion that had baffled me a year earlier. The same empty and overgrown buildings now represented memories of a Christ-centered community from the summer past and a profound hope for the months ahead.

With all the sounds of an active community, the constant but quiet roar of the falls was often masked or, more often, not listened for. I found it serendipitous that a giant parabola has been built into a relatively new sculpture here at base camp. This towering structure is aimed toward the Albert Falls and magnifies the joyous din for any listener standing in the sweet spot of the parabola. I confess to more than one side trip to the sculpture this week just to hear the falls break out over the buzz of camp life.

Now however, as I sit out on the Green House porch in the pre-dawn light there’s little competition for my attention. The falls are almost deafening in the way they break the stillness. A random bird call or a lone yachter rumbling quietly to life are the only bits of melody that layer on top the constant drumming. As my week comes to a close I’m thankful for the Beyond ministry, thankful that Christ is even more constant than these glacier-fed falls and grateful that He is faithful even when I fail to listen or fail to hear.