I am always caught by the use of the word “wilderness” in Scripture. In the New Testament, we find Jesus in the wilderness when he is tempted by Satan and again on the edge of the Sea of Galilee looking to find a quiet, set-apart place to pray. In the Old Testament we enter the wilderness when Moses leads the Hebrews out of Egypt and again when the Babylonians overwhelm the Israelites and carry them away into captivity not to mention countless other moments in the lives of prophets, kings, and God’s chosen ones.
From an online commentary I read this week: “In the Bible, the wilderness is a locale for intense experiences—of stark need for food and water (manna and quails), of isolation (Elijah and the still small voice), of danger and divine deliverance (Hagar and Ishmael), of renewal, of encounters with God (Moses, the burning bush, the revelation of the divine name, Mount Sinai). There is a psychology as well as a geography of wilderness, a theology gained in the wilderness. Linguists will make the point that the Hebrews did not have an exact equivalent of the contemporary English word “wilderness.” Nevertheless, the Hebrews evidently knew the experience of confronting the wild. Turning to the New Testament, which was written in Greek, not Hebrew, the word most often translated as “wilderness” is eremos (or eremia), an isolated place. The wilderness figures at critical junctures in the life of Jesus. Jesus is baptized by John and then is driven by the Spirit into the wilderness for forty days. The Devil is there, but so is the Spirit. “A great while before day, he rose and went out to a lonely place, and there he prayed” (Mark 1:35). This records a search for solitude, for self-discovery, [and] for divine presence.”
In the season of Lent, which begins with Ash Wednesday on March 6, we find God calling us…inviting us into the wilderness. Sometimes that invitation is met with joy. On Facebook, I read posts asking the question, “Who would want to live in this beautifully pictured log cabin for a month on the edge of this river without cell phone or Internet or TV? A sign of the times of being overly connected and often feeling alone, I guess.
And yet other times, we are pushed or even launched into the wilderness without any chance to pack a bag. An illness, a job loss, a new diagnosis, a divorce, a death – any of these events can propel us into a time of unknown without map or compass. For many reasons, the season of Lent seems to be a time each year in my life when I am both grateful to welcome the wilderness moments in my journey of faith and also afraid to venture where I am unable to see the finish. In some ways, I find the wilderness of Lent to be the destination and it forces me to trust that God is at work in ways I cannot always see or understand.
I offer these words to you as a reminder that our journeys of life and faith are never what we expect. And even though I am unable to see the finish, I hold on to the promise that God is at work. In the midst of our wilderness moments; in the midst of the death and resurrection moments in our lives; in the midst of not knowing what comes next – God is at work. So my friends, in these coming days of Lent when we cannot see the finish – God invites us to hold on to the promise – that in the midst of our wilderness moments… God is at work.
See you in church.
Pastor Chris
(Reprinted from the March 2019 newsletter)
