“No place is ever as bad as they tell you it’s going to be.”
—Chuck Thompson
Today we ventured into Badlands National Park.
I have never had a great desire to visit the Badlands. In fact, I’ve always been more than a bit afraid to go there. They are, after all, called the Badlands for a reason.
But, strangely, I think they may be one of my favorite places so far! They were a welcome contrast to the overdevelopment of the area around Mount Rushmore that we experienced yesterday. I felt today that my soul had room to breathe.
Stephanie Payne wrote of the Badlands, “It looks a bit like the inside of a cave that has been turned inside out and warmed by the sun.” I have to agree. I’ve never seen anything quite like this place. It is harsh. It is barren. But it is incredible. The prairie seems endless as one drives over it. But suddenly the ground seems to open up, the prairie comes to an abrupt end, and there are the Badlands.
We spent a couple of hours driving over the road that leads through the northern section of the park. We could have stopped every few feet to just soak in the beauty and marvel. “Beauty” is not quite the right word, though. The terrain is more “fascinating” than “beautiful”. Every time we rounded a bend, we were met with a new view that left us breathless.
We commented as we went that, in one sense, each vista held more of the same thing, eroded rocks in pastel tones. And yet each formation was unique, and captivated us with its own special charms. Mile after mile we drove, bathing in the sameness, awed by the distinctiveness.
How much, we wondered, did God delight in creating each of these peaks and canyons, in molding each section of the land just so? And, because we humans are the crown of His creation, does He take even greater delight in shaping each one of us as unique, original creations?
And what about me? How do I view what God has crafted? If I can gaze in wonder at each mound of rock carved by the forces of wind and water, how much more should I treasure the unique beauty of every human being?
The Badlands seem incredibly vast. And yet they are, in terms of geographical area, fairly insignificant. They are just a dot on our globe. Still, within them, I am aware of my own smallness. “Travel makes one modest,” wrote Gustav Flaubert. “You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.”
Today, as we meandered through the Badlands, I had a chance to consider the miraculous truth that I matter to the Creator of the universe. In the vastness of all of creation, I am but a dust speck. And yet…
“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place
What is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.”
—Psalm 8:3-5
