June 9: Presidents, the Black Hills, and an adventure in Nowhere, Wyoming

Mt. Rushmore today.

As I've tried to figure out how exactly to relay my experience here, I've had a rather difficult time making sense of my thoughts and feelings.


Rushmore was incredible. Amazing to see the time and effort and dedication it took to carve these faces out of the side of a mountain. I'm so thankful that God has blessed humanity to share in a bit of His creativity.
At the same time, seeing the monument, I felt oddly.... ashamed? Not for or of myself personally, but for the country I call home.

This is probably going to be a very unpopular opinion, but hear me out a moment.


It cost us almost 1 million dollars and countless man hours to carve Mt. Rushmore. Yes, it is indeed an amazing and awe-inspiring sight, but doesn't that seem a little excessive?
Staring up at the faces of these long-dead men, I found myself wondering how many starving people could have been fed with that time and money? How many homeless could have been housed? How many other, better, more merciful, more compassionate things could we have done with those resources?

And while certainly, the men who's faces are carved upon that stone were great indeed, how much greater is He who created them? Yet we elevate the creation to the Creator's level, and honor that which was built as equal to - or greater than - the Builder Himself. We've idolized our founding fathers, and worshiped mortal man as more impressive and more important than the Heavenly Father.

After seeing the Badlands the day before, and being completely awed into speechlessness by the beauty God endowed nature with, (brace yourself for another unpopular opinion) seeing Rushmore almost felt disappointing. I do believe Breanna and I photographed the forest and rocks surrounding the monument just as much - if not more - than we did the monument itself.
As I said, Rushmore was amazing. But it lacked something that the Badlands had - some ability to instill a sense of childlike wonder.

At the Badlands, I felt God's presence. I felt His divine fingerprint pressed into the earth, every swirl and crease molding the land into a sight like nothing else.
At Rushmore, I saw man-made beauty, and it lacked the divine signature of God's hand.
Amazing? Certainly. But simultaneously disappointing in a way I find hard to express with words.

In summery, Rushmore seemed a very American thing; big, flashy, expensive, visually impressive, but ultimately self-centered, and hollow.
I come away from this national monument and this symbol of American pride, feeling somehow less patriotic than when I arrived.


America, wake up. Put your Creator back on the throne, and remember that your people need you to help them more than they need you to build them monuments.


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93 degrees is really hot when you’re stuck alongside the road in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming.
I know this because we spent two hours in just such a position on Thursday when the van broke down just outside of a little town called New Castle.

We’d spent the morning at Rushmore, the early afternoon driving and hiking through the black hills, and had been on the road again for at least two hours.
Wyoming seemed to be stretching on forever (despite the fact that we’d only crossed into the state about an hour before), and we were wondering why on earth anyone would choose to live in such a state.
Flat, hot, empty, open, hot, boring, lots of cows and scrub bursh. Also, it was hot. Really, really hot.

We were cruising at a comfortable 80 mph down the highway, (that’s the speed limit around here. Crazy right? Get with the program, Indiana. I’ve got places to be.) when trouble struck.
The whole van starts shaking like we’re riding rumbles strips, and we have no idea what’s going on.
So we pull off (into the mouth of what looks like a driveway…? leading up into a mountain…??) and I call dad.

If you’ve never been in this situation before, here’s a fun fact for you: trying to explain car issues over the phone is almost as difficult as trying to diagnose car issues over the phone.
Also, Wyoming is really hot.
Dad doesn’t know what’s wrong, so he says I should call my grandpa. Okay. So I call.

He says maybe a tire issue? I should put on the spare.
Okay. I can change a tire.
So I call dad back to let him know that that’s the plan.
Dad says I probably can’t change the tire, because sometimes even he struggles with those lug nuts.
Okay, so maybe I can’t change a tire.
Man, is it hot.

Looks like we’re going to call Triple A and get them to send out a strong guy who can change tires.
A half hour on the phone gets me through to Triple A and I tell them my problem.
Another 45 minutes, three bottles of water, a game of cards, and a lot of sitting in the sun and sweating. Finally, the Triple A guy shows up.
I tell him that I think I need a tire change, but he says the tires look fine, and from what he knows of the problem, it might be an axle issue.
That sounds expensive.

To make a long story short, eventually, we were able to limp the van to a local repair shop that Kelly the Triple A guy recommended. The mechanics stayed almost two hours past normal closing time to get us up and running again.

Everyone we met and talked with was extremely helpful, friendly, and willing to do whatever it would take to make sure we were safe to get back on the road.

It was pretty late by the time we finally pulled into Gillette (the closest, bigger city)and we had to drive through a storm get there, but we made it, and we met some really nice people along the way.
It was a rough and rather crazy day, but God was faithful to provide for us and keep us safe throughout all of it.