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

Bee-yond Song

If you've visited Base Camp in recent years, this will be a familiar tune.  If not, then the lyrics of the current "Beyond Song" should give you a nice chuckle.  Enjoy!

BEE-YOND

These mountains don’t mess around,

You’ll probably wet your pants when you hit the shore.

You’ll struggle through the forest and the streams before us and get Christmas toe. 

You’ll try to climb these rocks and rappel these drops in your pink swamis.

Thank God for Mom and Dad for letting us be here so we can hang with Jesus.

Bee-yond (x4)

You think you got it-ooh you think you got it.

Just cat clawing in your helmet when you start to fall.

We get the cheddar, ooh we get the cheddar.

Mexi-meal always beats Taco Time at the mall.

Enjoy yourself, trips don’t last forever.

What makes (x5) this the exception!

So why oh, why oh are we so in denial when we see that our God is here?

Bee-yond (x5)

Leader: Alright now fellas.

Guys: Yeah!

Leader: What’s cooler than being cool?

Guys: Glacier pools!

Leader: I can’t hear you, what’s cooler than being cool?

Guys: Glacier pools!!

Leader: Alright, alright now ladies,

Ladies: Yeah!

Leader: I’m about to break this thing down for ya… Now hike it, hike it, hike it. Now hike it, hike it, hike it, hike it like your mamas stairmaster.

Bee-yond (x4)

(To the tune of Hey-Ya by OutKast)

God’s Strength, Not Mine

At the end of every week at Beyond, we have club: a time where groups get to share about their week, we sing some songs and one of the Beyond staff gives a closing talk.  In the two summers I had been a guide, I had never taken on the task of giving a club talk.  Towards the end of my second summer, I decided it was time.  My talk was about Peter walking on water and how he began to sink; I emphasized that it was by God’s strength, not his own, that he had the ability to walk on the water.  I finished the talk by urging participants to remember that we need God to accomplish all good things and that when we get arrogant and think we can do it on our own, we too begin to sink.

I wrote and practiced this club talk over and over, even at the expense of guide planning with my guide partners for the upcoming week.  To make a long story short, the club talk went swimmingly, but I entered into the following week feeling, exhausted, unprepared, and all around discouraged.  By the second day of the trip I found that it was unexplainably impossible for me to engage--with content, with God, with participants, and with guide partners.  During a quiet time on the summit, on a scale from one to discouraged, I felt extremely discouraged.  I turned to God and said, “What’s the deal?”

I was instantly reminded of the club talk that I had given just four days prior.  I realized that I had stood in front of a crowd of participants and preached on something that I myself needed to hear.  I realized that it was I who had been trying to do it myself.  That I had forgotten that even as a mighty second year guide, it is God’s strength not mine that makes our trips in the mountains as powerful as they are.  It was a humbling experience to say the least.  Ultimately I never did engage with that trip the way I usually do, but despite that, it was one of the most painfully beautiful experiences I’ve ever had.

Cole Kopca - Mountain Guide 2008-2009