Impacting Utah

I love snow. It is pure, peaceful, and it covers everything.

One recent morning I woke up early and thrilled at the pile of snow resting just outside my window. I crawled out of my warm bed to get a better view, and it was worth it. The branches on the trees bent slightly under the weight they held; the snow on the ground was clean, without tracks, and glistened under the morning light creeping across the sky. The air had been cleared by the storm and I could see the Oquirrh mountains standing tall and white in the distance. It was perfect. The snow was pure, peaceful, and covered everything (including my car).

This morning I woke up early and went to my window to enjoy the snow again. As I looked out I saw muddy piles along the curb, messy tracks from muddy boots, and icy tire tracks along the street. It was a mess. There were still patches of pure white, but the snow had been disturbed, messed, and moved to uncover sidewalks and streets.

Isaiah 1:18 tells me – “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.”

I thought of this verse the second morning as I looked out at the messy snow. I knew that I had a part in making that mess, and I thought that must be what sin looks like in my life. A muddy, gross stain on something Christ made so white and pure.

“Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow” (Psalm 51:7).

Want to know something else I love about snow? It comes back to cover everything again. There will be more mornings that are covered in pure, peaceful white.

Want to know something I love about my Almighty God? He will wash me, cleanse me, and make me whiter than snow every time I ask. Grace. It is beautiful, and covers me. Like the snow.

Thank you, Jesus.

Sitting in the dirt, I rub my hands through the chalk bag one more time while studying the problem in front of me. It is a low start, left foot up, right flag. I stare at the rock, a simple progression of holds, cracks and ledges: left hand, rotate hips, right hand, work feet up, bump the right hand, rotate hips, put pressure on my left hand, work feet, left hand reach to the finish hold… fall. Every time.

Sitting in the dirt again, I catch my breath and wonder why I love this so much. Climbing is frustrating, difficult, painful, and makes it impossible to have soft well manicured hands – but I can’t seem to get enough. I love it. I love the messy white chalk, the tight leather shoes, the cold stone, and, more than anything else, I love finishing a climb for the first time.

Living in Salt Lake City is frustrating, difficult, painful, and makes it impossible not to hang on to God for dear life. Sometimes I sit in the smog and wonder why I love it so much – but I can’t seem to get enough. I love it. I love the mountains, the frequent appearance of quail, the church I get to be a part of, and, more than anything else, I love the relationships I have here.

The last year in this beautiful city has been as simple and excruciatingly hard as a boulder problem. Though I often feel like my fingers are straining on the smallest hold as I struggle to keep my balance in every area of life, I find that my Jesus always pushes me to the finish hold and catches me if I miss it.