Beauty in Brokenness: The Testimony of the Grand Tetons

"Beauty in brokenness" has been a phrase dear to my heart for several years… But it has taken on a new meaning for me following a trip to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons with my class of senior students.

The phrase first gripped me during my 2nd year of University when I had the privilege of leading the River, an on-campus women's ministry at my college. Just a few weeks before school started, I found myself applying for and being offered the position after the original leader stepped down. From the very beginning of the school year (Fall of 2010 I think??), my head was full of questions and my heart was full of fear. Insecurities swiftly lurched into my mind, clouding my thoughts and tainting my perspective of the leadership position…. what was I getting myself into? I didn't know how to lead worship, I wasn't a gifted speaker or communicator… I was organized but could I plan events for 50+ people each month?  Was this really what God had called me to do?

As I prayed about how to step into the newly acquired role, 2 Corinthians 12:9 "But [the Lord] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is make perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." became my tearful anthem, and "beauty in brokenness" emerged as the theme of the ministry for the year. Throughout the year, I constantly reflected on how God graciously took weaknesses of men and women and through them, proclaimed his strength. Speakers shared stories about how God had made himself visible in the middle of dark times… how He had used their hardships to serve as avenues of his love… how his power had become perfect in their weaknesses… My heart was deeply encouraged at God's willingness to take our messes and make himself known to us in personal, transformational ways. His grace is so beautifully manifested in our weaknesses. His beauty is seen in our brokenness.

But… there's more…

If you've never been to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, you need to go. Seriously. I will never forget the moment I first saw the Tetons standing strong against the backdrop of the blue sky. Even though I was surrounded by 25 people on a school bus, intense stillness swept over me. My breath escaped my lungs, and tears streamed down my face. Dare I say, it was one of the most beautiful sites I have ever experienced.

As I reflected on the indescribable majesty of these rugged mountains, I was struck with the realization that they are a direct result of God's judgement. When I look at the world around me, I see countless evidences for a global flood as described in Genesis 6-9. This Flood was God's chosen instrument for destroying the earth at that time. His wrath (which we often have difficulty discussing for some reason) manifested through physical disasters and transformed the geological and, even, atmospheric structure of the earth on a global scale.

For so long I've looked at the mountains and seen them as evidences for God's creation. Rarely have I looked at them and seen them as a testimony to his judgment. But that's exactly what they are: remnants of a global catastrophe that resulted from God's judgment on the world for man's rampant evil and wickedness. The Tetons are protruding from the surface of the earth today because of the consequence for an infestation of sin. They should remind us of our wretched hearts and sinful natures. They should break us.

But… these mountains are undeniably beautiful.

Only a perfectly loving and holy God could use a mark of his destruction to depict his goodness in such a majestic way. Even more than these mountains represent his judgement, they showcase his love and grace. He didn't have to give us the ability to gaze upon them and see them as stunning art exhibits… He didn't have to allow the sun to cascade across the canyon crevices in ways that make the shadows sway and the light dance… He didn't have to paint the hills with wildflowers and dust the skies with hues of blue… He didn't have to allow us to appreciate the contrasting (and complementary) colors, textures, shapes, and details of nature… But he did.

It's in these mountains that I see not only how God make beauty out of brokenness… he breaks things into beauty… and that's grace.

"Why Not?"

During my time in China, I repeatedly heard the question, "why not?" from the director of the organization and my counterpart Chinese teacher. Nearly every time I heard one of them utter these words, their voices were full of optimism and hope. As we discussed various ideas with each another (ranging from where to go for dinner to what activity to do with the students), my 2 dear coworkers would frequently reply, “Why not?” and plans would be made to implement the suggestion. I was struck with their eagerness to improve, willingness to try new things, and hopeful expectation that a positive outcome would arise. (Clarification: this was not the answer in response to insanely outlandish ideas. They were not foolishly or naively willing to try anything out of the blue! Rather, they were refreshingly optimistic in contrast to my somewhat-skeptical and overly-analytical thoughtful evaluations of ideas and decisions).

Now, I don’t think I'm frequently labeled as a pessimist person… but the repetition of the “why not” question ringing with undertones of hopeful optimism stood out to me in a way that caused me to question the reason for its absence from my day-to-day thoughts and conversations. So often I end up trying to convince myself to do something by listing off positive results of the decision. This isn’t wrong to do (in fact, it can demonstrate wise decision-making and critical thinking), but it also implies an initial question of “why?” which is often rooted in doubt, uncertainty, skepticism and even pessimism.

Furthermore, the “why not? response of my coworkers in China frequently arose out of true respect and consideration of the person sharing an idea. For instance, whenever I posed a schedule question, such as, “would you mind if I switched the morning activity with the afternoon activity?” the “why not?” response I received from the director was based on an attitude of respect and confidence in my decision-making. The director didn’t ask me to provide a rationale for my idea; he expected me to have exercised discernment prior to asking him and trusted me to competently carry out my idea. There were times I would begin to share reasons behind my ideas in schedule changes (likely as a subconscious attempt to prove my capabilities, which is an entirely other downfall to work through haha), and the director would graciously cut me off in order to approve my idea based on his respect and confidence in me. He trusted me to do my job well because that’s what he had asked me to do. There wasn’t nagging doubt in his mind (at least, not that I could see!) nor a prove-it mentality in which I often find myself trapped. He had hope.

As  I thought about minimal presence of the hopeful “why not?” in my own thoughts, I was hit with the realization that the foundation for me asking “why?” instead of “why not?” is frequently rooted in pride.  (Surprise, surprise… another conviction of pride!) More often than not, I wind up thinking (dare I say subconsciously) that others are inferior to me and must “prove” that their opinions, ideas, needs…  merit my time and energy.

Why should I take the time to help you?

How can you convince me you have a good idea?

What have you done to deserve my energy?

What are the reasons you can give me that prove your opinion is worth consideration?

On more than one occasion I’ve either directly or indirectly demanded that someone else persuade me to help, listen to, or even tolerate them… all the while maintaining a presupposition in my heart that I am superior to them in some way.

Yikes. That looks terrible when I actually read it back to myself! Deep breath. Sadly, it’s true. I'll confess it again… often, I ask “why?” because I see others as inferior to me and require them to prove themselves worthy. Ugh! May it not be so.

Pause for a second… I’m not making a claim that every time I ask “why?” (or when anyone asks “why?” for that matter) the foundation lies on pride. “Why?” is not a bad question! Statements and opinions should be justified, and justification should be given. Sometimes, “why?” must be asked to elicit justification, and other times justification is presented without being a direct response to “why?” (Like now, for example… I’m basically providing justification for my thoughts- an explanation of why they should be validated and a reason divulging why I think they are true). Simply, I'm attempting to recognize the beauty I see rooted in the contrasting question "why not?" that I rarely find myself asking.

When thoughts, opinions, ideas, suggestions, etc. are shared by others… why not ask, "why not?" It's quite fun, actually! I love how the question conveys a sense of childlike faith and innocent optimism. Just saying it awakens a feeling of hopeful excitement and eagerness to see something great unfold!

* Why not allow Christ to strip away my prideful tendency toward skeptical questioning?

* Why not eagerly search for positive elements of others' thoughts rather than fixating on the negative aspects?

* Why not identify strengths of others and confidently expect them to be demonstrated instead of ignoring them? 

* Why not respect others enough to invest in their thoughts and ideas in place of demanding people to pursue me they deserve my time?

* Why not let my initial response to requests and suggestions of others be saturated with humility, grace, and hope instead of being tainted with cynicism and doubt?

Why not ask, "why not?"

Initial Reflections Following 2 Weeks in China

After 2 weeks in Guangzhou, China (one of the provinces in the Southeast region), I'm attempting to settle back into the reality of living in North America and process the magnitude of the adventure I've been fortunate enough to experience. So many thoughts are jumbled in my head, and this post in only an attempt to sort them into a somewhat understandable summary. As the thoughts continue to surface as words, perhaps another post will come to fruition too. For now, this mere attempt will need to suffice…

So, what did I do in China? Well, for 10 days I taught leadership/English to 18 students (14-15 years old) for 8 hours a day in a stark classroom full of vibrancy and energy. Not a day passed that I neglected to see a new cultural practice, try amazing food, laugh with students, or learn more about myself, humanity, and our Creator. Seriously. I cannot put into words how thankful I am to have gone on this trip! The phrase, "it was great," will continue to define the trip, but never will it encapsulate the expanse of my enjoyment and appreciation of the experience. 

Now, the bigger question, for me at least- what did I learn? The culture I witnessed was beautiful. Here are a few attempts at expressing what I learned:

1. "Community" came to mean more to me, especially at dinner time. I've always enjoyed getting to know people through sharing a meal together, but rarely do I share meal times as I did in Guangzhou. At dinner every night, myself and several others gathered around a table with plates of food spread across the center. Now, this wasn't just "family style," where dishes were passed around and each person loaded up his own plate… Every person did have his own plate and bowl, but they were very small. The purpose of their size was seemingly twofold: to take small portions of everything and to make it easy for others to serve you as you passed them your small dish. I could hardly take a bite without someone seeing my bowl was getting empty and filling it with more food! The same went for the tea… after nearly every drink, it was filled by someone at the table. At first I thought this might be because I was a foreign guest, but they treated everyone this way! So much hospitality and servanthood! Everyone was looking out for each other and seeking to serve in a visible way.

2. Along the lines of community, I learned more about a "we" culture contrasting a "me" culture. One night I spent hours talking to a dear friend about valuing the group over the individual. She expressed the underlining goal of maintaining peace, stability, and placidity rather than being a unique individual with personal opinions. The good of the group supersedes the good of the individual. She said for a Chinese person, it's more desirable to be in the middle of the pack, to remain unnoticed, to keep the peace… uniqueness is not valued in the same ways it is in North America. And, as much as I believe God has created us as unique individuals to fulfill unique purposes for his glory, I think there's something to be said for valuing the "we" of a community, not solely the "me." Perhaps I'll write more about this later… my muddled thoughts are yet to be cleared entirely…

3. Communication is far more than spoken word. Well, that's obvious! But what I mean by that is we have the ability to understand others and express ourselves, even to be connected to others, without sharing the same spoken language. In some way, we share a heart language. Regardless of our Mother Tongue, every person on the earth has a desire to know love, to know truth, to have a meaningful life, to enjoy life, to be respected, and so on… and because of these inherent desires of humanity, we can relate to each other on a deep level without talking. Facial expressions, eye content, gestures, and posture became crucial for me to show my appreciation to different people I met when verbal communication was unattainable. The inability to talk with people verbally also challenged me to speak to their hearts. I couldn't ask them questions about themselves to make them feel valued and respected; instead, I had to posture myself graciously, initiate eye contact, and frequently smile in order to show others I took notice of them, cared for them, and appreciated what they were doing. Communication was more difficult, but it also took place on a deep level when speech was not a means nor a hindrance to expressing myself.

4. Finally (for now), I saw in another way how big God is. Did you catch that? God is BIG. Well, duh! But seriously. He is huge! I often experience the scope of God's magnitude when I look up at the stars… but I see it when I travel the world too. The God of the universe knows every single person on the planet. Every one who has lived was created by him… everyone who is living is being sustained by him… and everyone who will live will get their breath from him alone. Wow. That’s a lot of people. His knowledge stretches farther and wider than I can comprehend. How humbling!
But, he didn't just remind me of the far-reaching span of his size… he reminded me of the depth of his character too. He not only knows about everyone in the world, but he knows the depths of who we all are… the ins and outs of every person who has ever lived, is living, and is yet to live… and he extends his infinite love to each one as we are known by him. Furthermore, he created each of us as individuals to know him and love him in a deep and personal way. He invites us into fellowship with him out of the depths of who we are, into the depths of who he is. He knowledge and love doesn't just stretch across the planet, it plunges into the depths of every person created.

If you made it through the whole post of my poorly-sorted thoughts, I commend you! May these words serve not merely as a way to remember a fantastic adventure, but may they stir me to grow as I let truth penetrate my soul in a new way.

Fear… and Love

Every time I go white water rafting, the Lord uses the opportunity to slap me across the face and teach me something powerful yet again. A recent 2-day trip down the Deschutes was no exception.

His power roars in the sound of the rushing waves… His beauty manifests as the sun cascades across the rugged geology and majestic terrain… His design flies across the water in the form of agile avian… His boundless love dances through my heart as I remember that He who has created all that lies before me… is mindful of me.

Wow.

Even with that amazing truth at the forefront of my mind, the Lord still uprooted an attitude I continually suppress: fear. Now, after 4 or 5 trips like I this, I don't fear the water any more (in fact, I had my fair share of water-time, usually of my own choosing). However, I was reminded that a fear of heights still peaks its nasty head every so often.

As our first day on the water drew to a close, our guides offered one more chance at adventure. With our gear unloaded, dinner cooking, and camp in order, the opportunity to jump off a massive cliff was presented to our group. Hey, l totally did that last time! I jumped off the shortest part of it, but I could for sure do the high part this year! I eagerly joined the guides and embarked on the journey to the cliff.

Now, tucked away in my memory bank was an image of a rugged rock several meters above the water. I recall being nervous, but it hadn't been too difficult to take the plunge into the water from one of the lowest peaks. When we reached our destination, however, the rock seemed larger than I had remembered. Still enthusiastic about the jump, I climbed up the side of the jagged surface and looked over the edge.

Oh my word, this is so much higher up than I remember! How on earth did I do this before? There's no chance I'm jumping off the high end! This is crazy!

Thoughts flooded my mind. Fear overcame me.

You can totally do this. It's not that high up. Seriously, pull it together. You're going to enjoy it!

Regardless of the amount of positive self-talk I tried to scream into my mind, my feet would not budge. I could not bring myself to jump.

Eventually, one of the guides grabbed my hand, counted down, and plunged alongside me into the still waters looming beneath our feet. My heart jumped to my throat, I let out an excited scream, and before I knew it, cool water swallowed by body on all sides. I had jumped. And loved it!

The partner-jump elicited so much excitement from within me that I proceeded to fly solo the next few rounds, each time jumping from a slightly higher part of the cliff. Soon, the highest peak was all that was left. You know you have to do it, Kristina. Jump from the highest. Prove you can do it.

Several times I walked up, looked over, and turned back. I can't do it. Ugh. It looked awful! "You'll be fine!" "Don't think about it!" "Just jump!" sang the chorus of encouragement around me… but each time I stepped forward, I froze.

"Beloved, are you willing to follow me even when it's scary?" Of course, Lord!
"Are you willing to go wherever I call you?" Absolutely!
"Then jump." But I can't!
"Do you love me?" You know I love you.
"Jump… I love you." 

I pushed my legs off the solid ground stabilizing me and plunged into the waters below. I jumped.

As I swam back to shore, the significance of the jump blazed to the front of my mind. It wasn't about overcoming one of my fears, chanting enough positive self-talk, experiencing an emotional high, or even proving to myself I could do something I didn't' think I could do… I was about Love.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." 1 John 4:18

Perfect love casts out fear. Love dismantles fear. Love eliminates fear. Love exposes fear for what it truly is- the absence of love. I was only able to jump when my mind was fixed on Love Himself. As the reminders to cease striving, to stop performing, to rest in the Lord, to be… came to mind, the projection of fear evaporated. It was in that moment of receiving and experiencing Love that I stepped forward to do, to move, to obey, to jump… action immediately follows the gift of Love… I need not (in fact, cannot) prove myself worthy, acceptable, or lovable on my own… at all. Love is extended not on the grounds of the recipient's worth, but on the foundation of the character of the Giver who loves perfectly. God loves because he IS love. And experiencing His perfect loves compels us to live…. and to love.

Retrospect

Stop.

Turn around and look.

See the long trail behind you

Stained with sorrowful tears.

Have they not been dried?

Wait.

Change your view and see.

The path on which you just trudged,

Arduous and grueling,

Did you not survive?

Pause.

Just stand still and be.

Please remember my promise

To sustain and support.

Were my words a lie?

Now.

Turn your face to me.

My right hand will uphold you

Always faithful and true,

In me, love, abide.

Tears.

Easter. Resurrection Sunday. My favorite day of the year.

Yet this year was different: the first Easter without my grandma. Oh what I would give to answer the phone to her sweet voice gently and joyfully half-singing, "Hello, darling granddaughter. Happy Resurrection Day! Today we celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior! What a wonderful day this is!"Tears spring to my eyes when I stop and acknowledge that I will never hear her say those words again. I'll never see her in the kitchen mashing potatoes… or hold her hand as we pray together before our meal… or receive another Scripture-saturated hand-written card declaring God's goodness… And so, streams of sadness continue to cascade down my face, threatening to drown my thoughts in an immobilizing state of sorrow.

Then, I remember: Nan is with our risen Savior.

That's it- the tears are now pouring through my eyes, racing towards my chin, until… they're stopped by the upward curve of an involuntary smile. Joy- inexplainable joy- bursts inside the walls of my grieving heart. My dear grandma, Nan, is celebrating Jesus' resurrection with him… because of his resurrection. Wow. Dead to this life, yet more alive than anyone on earth. Cue the tears.

Little Dogs

*Disclaimer* Read with caution if you like little dogs, have a little dog, or will be offended by hearing a contrary stance on your love of little dogs...My kindness filter might be off-kilter a bit, and I'll probably have to ask for forgiveness at some point after writing this haha You've been warned.

I'm sorry to say, I'm just not a natural-born believer in a little dog's unique charm... Their yippy voices, wiry frames, beady eyes, and often aggressive demeanors have always rubbed me the wrong way (I know not every little dog fits these descriptions, so here's a good place to insert an apology for stereotyping!) I attribute my tendencies towards annoyance and dislike of the tiny creatures to my dad. He's always found great joy in labeling little dogs as "toilet brushes," because "that's really the only thing they're good for," and my spongy mind soaked up this presupposition as a child. I've found that over the years this label has become more engrained in my mentality, to the point where my initial reaction to seeing almost any little dog is "gross, that should go in a toilet." Yikes!!! How horrible am I?!

What's worse than my internal judgements of little dogs is the external expression of my offensive opinions. I've had quite a few "open mouth, insert foot" experiences centered around the innocent creatures. I don't hide my thoughts or emotions particularly well, and I've said things (verbally and non-verbally) that were better left unsaid. You know that wise saying your mother used to say, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all..." well, I should really take that to heart a bit more often. I mean, really, how necessary is it to harshly proclaim, "Ew, is that a dog?" or to allow a snarky look to wave across my face when I decide to try and keep my mouth shut. My face ends up saying it all.

Well, as much as I'd love to keep ranting about my miniature-canine frustration, I better cut to the chase of this profound (*cough*) thought stream. While I've griped and complained about the yipping, scratching, shaking, annoying little creatures commonly referred to as "cute little dogs," I've been challenged with several applicable thoughts… they've done nothing wrong to me, so what on earth do I have against them… they can't help it, I need to love them… 

I’d forgotten about the post sitting in my “draft” box for the past several months until the most recent little dog encounter. As I was babysitting this weekend, the family’s most recent addition to the family (a puppy version of a little dog) was wearing on my patience. I felt like I’d constantly been telling him to get out of the kitchen, drop the toilet paper, get away from whatever he’d been chewing… his annoyance level kept increasing rapidly until one of the boys made a passing comment to me… 

Little puppy dog was pawing at my arms and giving me the most pathetic tongue-hanging-out-of-mouth look while, of course, producing countless whimpers and wines, and my reaction was simply “Go away!” The 9-year-old boy from across the room, sidetracked by his video game, half-heartedly commented, “he just wants some loves.”

That’s it. Love. Puppy just wanted to be loved.

Was I seriously being convicted by my lack of love towards a pesky puppy? Yep. It hit me harder than I care to admit. This yappy creature just wanted a tiny dose of my affection, a glimpse of fondness. He wanted to be noticed, be cared for, be enjoyed…. He was trying to receive my love by reminding me of his presence. Surely, if I only knew he was there, I would readily extend love.

As often as I’ve told myself time and time again that whatever love I have toward someone else is from the Lord, it’s hard to remember.  I know that true love extended by me is not of myself; I simply don’t have it in me to crank out love on a whim. Love, in any capacity, is completely from the Lord. Sure, I can easily extend affection toward people I like, but it’s difficult to love them. Like actually LOVE them.

So, all this to say, may the Lord make my love for others abound more and more, including love for the “little dogs” in my life.