Up Where The Air Is Clear: Beyond Malibu Experience Part III
After embarking upon a six day backpacking trip through British Columbia, Brianna shares with us her experience through a series of posts. There are going to take you along on her week long adventure with Beyond Malibu where the Lord taught her amazing things along the way! Check out Part Three!
Up Where The Air Is Clear: Beyond Malibu Experience Part 3 by Brianna Dill
One very unique aspect of Beyond was the solo night. This was a night that you spent alone, reflecting with God in the solitude of nature. We didn’t travel any farther this day. Instead, we stayed just below the glacier, learning the skills and procedures needed to safely cross the ice and summit the mountain, as well as simply having fun. Prior to spending the night alone, we went rock climbing, learned snow safety such as how to catch yourself with an ice axe if you fell, and had snowball fights. There is simply nothing like days with no outside distraction. No cell phones, no worries of home, and nothing but the joy of the present moment and the company of the present people.
Learning how how to hike through the snow
and how to fall properly without falling off the cliffs in “snow school”. We spent all day rolling down the mountain and catching ourselves wth ice axes.
Grace is God’s total acceptance of you in your absolute failure. –My journal from the mountain.
The night before the summit was our solo night. Bundled up in fleece, wool socks, and a mosquito net, I carried my sleeping bag, mat, and journal to a corner of the rock right below the glacier, out of sight from any other living soul. I laid down under the view of the summit and stared up at the sky, the only noise around me the gentle buzzing of mosquitoes just beyond the protection of my net, and the crackling snow echoing into avalanches in the distance. I have never felt so close to the stars. For ages, people have tried to wrap their mind around the concept of infinity. Of eternity. And looking up at the vastness of the night sky, I felt so impossibly small. But unlike the feeling of smallness in daily life, there was a comfort in knowing that I was only a tiny speck of life in the scheme of a larger picture. On a scale of nothingness to infinity, I was a decimal with hundreds of zeroes. Then, in the middle of this internal moment of stillness, I felt an increasing awareness of deeply rooted fear. The kind of fear that resides deep within the recesses of your mind and twists at your gut once you silence the noise of life around you.
I wrote a letter to myself that night. I wrote about feeling small and the vastness of the sky. How all the fear I was harboring, it didn’t have a place in my life. I feared becoming all the things I hated, and falling short of the impossible expectations I set for myself. I was afraid of letting fear stop me from boldly chasing the adventure God has planned for my life. Ironic, isn’t it? And in admitting all of these fears, I began to release them into His hands and into His care. Letting His grace smother me in my smallness and insignificance. I could fail a thousand times over and it wouldn’t change a thing about the way He so recklessly loves me. I found a comfortable crevice in the rock and fell asleep wrapped in the warmth of the truth that grace would, and already was, freeing me from fear, and in turn making me entirely new.