Paying Attention

Ali Savage is a second-year mountain guide who will graduate
 in the fall from Western Washington University.
She studies education & political science,
and is passionate about freedom, the mountains,
and Jesus. 

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.

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

“What does it mean to pay attention?

And by this, I mean, what does it mean to be alive?”

- Mary Oliver

A Purpose-Filled Life

Xavier Salazar is a student at Grand Canyon University 

in Arizona, where he is earning a degree in Biblical Studies.

 He is on the maintenance team at base camp this summer.

 In his free time, Xavier loves slack-lining, playing

 Frisbee, and hanging out with friends.

I will never forget watching the movie “Kung Fu Panda” for the first time. My cousin and I laughed in unison as my mouth began to hurt from smiling for so long. There are a few memorable moments from the movie, but one specific quote constantly flows through my mind: “there are no accidents”.

For three years I have been hearing about this Young Life camp called Beyond Malibu. From 2013 to 2015 many of my friends have been involved with Beyond, either as participants or as staff. I missed out each year because I either heard about the opportunity too late or other summer plans interfered. However, the more I heard of my friends’ experiences, the more I desired to have some part in this place. This summer though, everything came together, and here I find myself on maintenance at base camp.

Now that I’m here, I’ve begun to ask why? Why now? Why didn’t I go on a trip with my high school friends? Why didn’t I go in college with my friend’s school trip? Why didn’t I apply for maintenance any other year? There have been so many other opportunities and options. In the midst of asking these questions, I remember that quote from Kung Fu Panda, “There are no accidents.” If I took any of those past opportunities, I might not be here right now. I would never have met Skylar, Chase, John Wayne, T.J., or Isaiah, my base camp co-workers who have become like family. I would never have met Cody, my direct boss, who has been like an older brother to me. I would have missed out on growing in relationship with my long-time friend Rick Wilson. I never would have sat next to unique, lovely, and beautiful people while worshiping Jesus around a roaring fire. I would not have learned valuable lessons that will shape me for the rest of my life. Old passions that God placed in my heart would not have been reawakened, and this summer full of life and adventure wouldn’t have existed. God’s perfect planning led to me coming here and experiencing everything that I have. It is clear that I am supposed to be here right here and right now. If you take time to look at specific moments of your life you can see the Lord using them in his plan.

Xavier (left) and part of the maintenance team at base camp

God brings purpose to every moment and decision in our lives. There is purpose in the mere fact that you were created. There is purpose in your community. There is purpose in your job. There is purpose in this very moment as you read these very words.

What exactly is that purpose? Ask God and trust. God has a purpose and a plan for your life.

-Xavier Salazar. 

Freedom from Struggle

Peyton (middle) works in the kitchen at base camp. In her free time, she enjoys swimming in the inlet and playing monopoly deal. She is currently attending SDSU in California for biology. Peyton is passionate about Jesus, In-N-Out Burger, and the ocean. 

Sometimes it is important to be in a place not shaped by the hands of humans, somewhere where it doesn’t matter if you’re barefoot because your shoes hurt too much, and a place that doesn’t respond to the command of a light switch. It is important to be humbled and to realize how human we are. I am grateful for Beyond because it makes me celebrate simple things like hot coffee in the morning, loud singing during dish duty, community, worship, and pure silliness. Base camp has become home, but my week in the mountains climbing JJ taught me a whole new meaning of trusting God and truly relying on His strength. 

During the majority of our time ascending, we were in a whiteout. We were cold, wet, and anxious. As difficult as the weather was, I felt that it was very fitting for our group. Although we could not see the beauty beyond the clouds, we all knew that it was there. The same concept works in regards to our walks with Jesus; we may not be able to see him, but we know he is always there. All we have to do is invite Him in.

On our summit day, the clouds opened up and the sun came out for the first time. I have never witnessed anything so beautiful. That moment of sun on the summit made me realize that God had a plan for our group. His plan was for us to realize that it is okay to struggle, it is okay for things not to be perfect, and it is okay not to have any idea where you are at or where you are going.

The whole JJ group before leaving for the trail

Before going on this trip, I had a lot of fear. I am a “lupie”, meaning I have lupus along with my autoimmune disease; mixed connective tissue disorder, and arthritis. I am told I can’t do things pretty often, and I let a lot of those negative comments pull me down. Even in the midst of these physical struggles, I felt God tugging at my heart telling me this was something I needed to do.

The strength God gave me throughout this trip made me reevaluate how I place my identity in Him. The feeling of conquering that mountain with the Lord was far more empowering than nursing my wounds and clinging to my pain all the time. There is something about the outdoors that fuels my soul, my spirit, and my overall well-being. I was forced to lean on the Lord when I was uncomfortable in the whiteout, and the way He met me was with this beautiful mountain experience I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

-Peyton Cook 

Thoughts from the Pack Shack

Madi Krueger works in the pack shack at base camp. She spends her days meticulously measuring ingredients for trip meals, making sure that each camper, leader, and guide who goes into the mountains has enough food to conquer the trails. Madi is a senior at Western Washington University and is studying journalism. While here at base camp, she loves playing her ukelele named Whimsy, spending time on the dock, and reading through the Harry Potter series for the first time.

It’s funny how my priorities have changed since arriving here at Beyond. Objects that once used to be strapped to my body or mind have taken flight from my thoughts and now wither in the cobwebbed corners of my mind. My phone currently sits at the bottom of my backpack, lifeless and untouched for days. I only use it to read downloaded sheet music for my ukulele, which gets a lot more action since I’ve gotten in the habit of worship on the dock or subtle strumming with the sunset. The makeup I devoted twenty minutes of every morning to and the chemicals and substances which, I believed, made me “pretty” and “enough,” were hurriedly tucked away to the bottom of my bin. The few mirrors here at base camp show me an old and familiar face that God always saw as beautiful and enough, mosquito bites, sunburns and all. I had cautiously tucked away that face full of childlike wonder and playful curiosity in the name of growing up. I bathe in the salty inlet, breathe in open and star-lit skies from my sleeping bag on the dock, and laugh at how very ridiculous it is to get frustrated over exactly 33 bags of skim milk powder. I cram my body on the floor of a crowded room to watch the first movie I’ve seen in a month, forget what a flushing toilet sounds like, and give thanks for a massive bowl of that rare vanilla ice cream. I wish I could save up enough of these moments to last the rest of my life.

My mind, even, has been freed from the shallow places I once anchored it to in order to keep it afloat in the busyness of life. The magnifying glass I once spent too much time under, the self I built up and hid behind to show my worth, has been kicked aside and traded out for a better view of others and of God. I’ve been able to dive deeper into what it means to be a follower of Jesus, what it really means for his redemptive love to wash over me, and what it really means to realize His sufficiency is more than enough for my inadequacies. I’m raw and flawed and human here because I’m allowed to be. Learning to set aside self-centered thoughts gives me the freedom to look more closely at others, flawed and human themselves, and love them better for it. I see the blistered feet of guides who walk kids along the mountainous horizons, the sore backs from raking trails, and the stress tears from food that never got shipped in. I’ve also seen the smiles that stretch around campers faces while guides sing and dance in goofy costumes at opening club. I’ve watched their eyes widen while “holy cow, another meal!” gets added to their already humongous backpack, and their nervous looks while gazing up at the mountain they’re told they can climb. It seems I’ve seen them expand and shrink in a paradox of growth here. Eyes grow, smiles widen, and faith expands while standing on the summit or in a small room called the “Pack Shack,” feeling smaller than ever before. In it all, God remains the same size, just a little clearer here, to them and to me.

-Madi Krueger

Phoenix kids 1977. Long One Eye—plus we climbed Sun Peak. Spent one whole 24 hours in tents on Smithman Ridge in a torrential downpour. Decision was to go back or finish the route. Decided it was as far to go back as to finish, so we went on. First time One Eye was ever done “missing” a day in the week plus climbing Sun Peak.

Check the kids in Levis. Clown White. Cotton Flannel shirts. Goldline rope.

Jim and Marty Caldwell, Sally Stahl, Monica Smith (McGuckin)

The growth and history go deep at Young Life Beyond Malibu.  Join Beyond Malibu for your epic experience and grow deeper in your relationship with Jesus Christ.

Mountains and Valleys

NOVEMBER 17, 2015 ~ JONNY

“We do not want merely to see beauty though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words–to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it…At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door.”
–C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

Eleven high school boys and their Young Life leader, all from Houston, TX, blindly follow my guide partner and I as we trudge across Microwave Bowl, a mile or two of flat glacier at the base of Mt. Albert before the summit push goes slightly more vertical. Divided into three rope teams, we navigate through a whiteout. We have enough visibility to see about the distance of a rope length. When we stop for a drink of water, the boys’ leader looks around, and proclaims (with a charming Texan lilt), “Ok. This is the most surreal thing I have ever done.”

These guys come from a wealthy neighborhood in Texas. None of them have ever done anything like this before, and it is likely they never will again. Life is rarely like this–tied into rope teams, navigating around gaping crevasses, practicing how to stop yourself with an ice axe as you slide backwards headfirst down a snow slope, walking faithfully behind a couple of dudes you just met who promise you they know what they’re doing as you march your way through the white fog.

Rarely is the sense of life’s risk so palpable, the trust so blind, and the goal (and it’s reward) so voluminous and obvious as summiting a mountain. Just a few days and about 8,300 ft prior, these guys were stepping off a boat at sea level.

All week, we have been sharing life stories and looking at what life and community might look like with Jesus at the helm. These guys are pretty aware of the pressures being put on them back home, but the time up here makes it vivid and obvious. There’s a phrase that gets used among students at their school: “The Stratford Cookie Cutter,” named after the cultural mold of school and community that divides their future into specific shapes to be baked into place like doughy cookies in an oven.

On this trip, for the first time in many of their lives, perhaps, they are experiencing real connection and community. They wonder aloud to each other why they treat each other so poorly, speak so unencouragingly to one another. They are weary of partying, of only being known on the surface, of flimsy relationships with girls, of being pushed from behind to become the next purveyors of successful lives defined by “good” jobs and material success. And they are so ensnared–their personal brokenness, the brokenness of their friends, the brokenness of their greater community back in Texas.

With all distractions stripped away and the real-time adventure of the mountains, it’s easier to see life, God, and ourselves in better light. We see this in Matthew 17, when Jesus leads Peter, James, and John “up a high mountain” and before them is transfigured–his face shining like the sun and his clothes a dazzling white. Up on the mountain, the disciples are getting a glimpse of who Jesus really is, without distraction, in fuller glory. Peter declares, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” He suggests setting up some dwellings to stay even longer.

But we cannot live on the mountain top. As mountain guides at Beyond, we try to help our groups think about the tough transition back to the valley. We process what it means to take the clarity of the “mountain top experience,” the shining face of Jesus, back into the chaos of normal life. As Jesus and the disciples descend the mountain, he orders them to “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” The mountain top experience is not the permanent manifestation of new life, but simply a glimpse of the beginning of its glory.  Now, with the summer over, it’s time for us guides and basecamp to practice what we preach.

Separated from the palpable, physical adventure, it’s difficult to know what this looks like. At the dock, I’m greeted by my car which has a flat tire and no discernible trace of oil on the dipstick. Later, when I get wifi on the ferry, my phone blows up with texts and I make the horrible mistake of looking at my email inbox. In Spokane, I’m greeted by ideas, habits, obligations, and relationships, which I’ve left piled up like my things in my friend’s garage for the summer, collecting sawdust, and it’s time to dust them off and get things back into their right place again.

It’s hard to know if the experiences that my groups and I had are “real” and if we can trust that they will have any real bearing on our lives. Surely they will. But things are not so clear down here. I’m imagining my Texas boys back home, almost halfway through their senior year already, hoping that their experience this summer was true but unsure how to keep it going. I picture this, because this is what I’m questioning in my own life.

And  I was the GUIDE!

In my own brokenness, I confess my doubt that anything in their lives will really change, or that anything in my life will really change.

In this tension lies the Christian life. We are promised glory, to be welcomed into the heart of things. And indeed, through Jesus, it is already given to us. And yet, we wait for its completion. We see in Romans 8:

22We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now; 23and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? 25But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

So here we are, back in the valley, visions of glory burned into the memory of the heart. I’m unsure of what comes next, but I trust God’s imagination for the future much more than my own. I do not hope for what I see in front of me, but for what I do not see. And I wait for it with patience

Beyond Comes Home

Growing up, my dad always told me, “You have to say goodbye in order to say hello again.” We do not want to say goodbye to spirit filled moments and glorious creation. For many of our campers there won’t be another dock dance party “hello” to Base Camp and the summits of Beyond. Just as challenging as kicking steps up Mt. Albert, the alders of Mt. Pearkes or the physicality of a day five descent is figuring out how to say “hello” to our Beyond experiences when we are at home.

                                       

The first day of climbing Mt. Albert campers were filling time on the trail with mouthwatering descriptions of Thai food from their hometown. Two months later I was ordering off the menu of the infamous Thai restaurant at a table with my campers. Their faces were shiny, hair clean and one even clad in his Beyond t-shirt.

States away from the summits of Beyond these campers were glowing- reliving their hardships and celebrations on the mountain over a plate of pad thai noodles. Looking at the faces around the table I saw the Lord’s extravagant provision. The Lord met each of us in uniquely beautiful ways. It can be recognized by the different moments each individual chooses to share aloud- recalling the thunderous boom of the ice falls, the sunset after days of smoky forest fire skies, or the pride of completing the route. We spent our week on Mt. Albert tangibly trusting the Lord and observed provision and answered prayer. Now we each begin the adventures of fall trusting the Lord will provide extravagantly as we summit mountains in our hometowns.

When we finished our noodles we stood up as a group, and instead of giving pack love and heading back onto the trail, these campers walked out of the restaurant into their daily lives: leading in their hometown club and beginning senior year of high school, fitting all their belongings into their car and moving away to college, and navigating full time work. They were alive and full, taking the sweet moments of Beyond where they went. 

The Lord reminded me that Beyond comes home with each of us. There is no need to dread or fear “goodbye”. Beyond isn’t confined to the mountains, or Princess Louisa Inlet. The moments at Beyond become a part of us and we have the honor of carrying them to our destination of choice. We get to keep saying “hello”.

-Erin Donoghue