I see two types of people in this
world: movie-talkers and everyone else. For better or worse, my mom is the
former. I grew up with her elbow perpetually jabbed into my side, always
accompanied with the question, “Who is that?” or, “What did she just say?”
Utterly committed to understanding a plot line, she’s never been afraid to ask
questions, even in a very crowded movie theater. She is, in one word, engaged.
I’ve found that this same binary exists in every other arena of my life as
well. The breakdown I see is as follows: there are those who pay attention, and
everyone else. The Gospel demands that I pay attention; to others, to the
movings of the Holy Spirit, and to myself.
Jesus paid attention to the ones
most vulnerable to being ignored. Jesus paid attention to the voice of the
Father compelling him to listen to and love the broken and the cast-off. Jesus
was, and is, unyielding in his desire to pay attention. In order to emulate
Jesus, I must pay attention.
As I prepare to finish my second
summer of guiding, and thus my time commitment to Beyond Malibu, I believe that
this is one of the greatest things God has taught me during my time here. I
live in a world where my brain is addled by stimuli, everything vying for my
attention. As a Christian, particularly a Christian who does ministry with high
school kids, I often believe falsities. Sometimes to my peril, I believe that
if I just yell the Gospel louder I will be heard. I believe that if I listen to
more sermons, read more books, and have more or louder or better worship, then I will hear the voice of God. In
reality, what I actually need is to be stripped of excess so that there are
fewer things distracting me from paying attention to the voice of God. Beyond
Malibu is a place thick with that presence. I am given the time and the space
to be engaged with others, with the movings of the Holy Spirit, and with myself.
Because of this space given to me
to pay attention, here are some things I’ve come to know:
I know the soft and powerful movement of air overhead, heron’s wings beating a
divine rhythm.
I know more shades of green and blue and grey than language can put form to.
I know the slow breathing of the Inlet, tides rising and falling like the chest of some sleeping aquatic giant.
I know bare feet on green floors and 5:30 AM belly laughs.
I know the sight of hot, holy tears in the eyes of a participant as the clouds open up and they get their first view of the mountain that they’ve spent the last three days climbing.
I know what it means to love, because He first loved us.
I know more shades of green and blue and grey than language can put form to.
I know the slow breathing of the Inlet, tides rising and falling like the chest of some sleeping aquatic giant.
I know bare feet on green floors and 5:30 AM belly laughs.
I know the sight of hot, holy tears in the eyes of a participant as the clouds open up and they get their first view of the mountain that they’ve spent the last three days climbing.
I know what it means to love, because He first loved us.
Because of Jesus’ example, and
because of this tiny corner of the map named Beyond Malibu that so many have
called home, I know what it means to pay attention to the presence of God; not
because I have more of what matters, but because I have less of what doesn’t.
With love,
Ali
Ali
“What does it mean to pay attention?
And by this, I mean, what does it mean to be alive?”
- Mary Oliver
1 comment:
Beautiful, Ali. We are so proud of you. xox
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