Wandering in the Wilderness

Tomorrow I'm preaching at a local church and the Gospel reading is Luke's version of Jesus' temptation in the wilderness. I have to confess that I've wondered how the writer knows just what happened to Jesus out there in the desert. Did Jesus reveal the story in detail to someone who told someone and many years later someone told Luke? Well, I guess the Holy Spirit told Luke. But that's not really the point, is it? The point is for us to learn from the story.

So I'm thinking about wilderness and why Jesus was led there just after being baptized and hearing a voice saying he was God's son. I mean that was a big deal! It makes sense, though, doesn't it? How would he proceed, having this knowledge, this awareness, this destiny? He was human, after all. He had some heavy thinking to do.

Many of us have wandered in natural wilderness, a forest or a desert or a mountain. Wilderness is largely unmarked, no clear path, no ability to see exactly where we are going. Wilderness is beautiful, beguiling, yet frightening. In wilderness we can realize at a deep level how very small we are. We aren't sure we'll find our way out or if we'll wander aimlessly until we die.

My natural wilderness is the high desert of Northwest New Mexico, where I've spent many weeks. No place I've been is so starkly beautiful and so lonely, empty and seemingly endless. The very spaciousness is frightening. How easily I could get lost and never find my way back!

Times in inner wilderness are often related to momentous life changes. Whenever we are presented with a challenge or opportunity, a reminder of our own power and potential, we are led into a wilderness where "the devil" by whatever name you call it, almost immediately shows up. That is, something within us takes over and shows us how good it would feel, how much money we could make, how much influence we could have. Of course, there's always a price to pay!

I remember lots of conversations where a great idea emerged and I could feel viscerally the power of its seduction. I would be sure this was finally IT! THE big thing I was meant to do in life which would change the world and lead me to fame and fortune. Yet it did not materialize in that spectacular way. Temptation isn't always about clear distinctions between the right or wrong choice. Each challenge offered to Jesus could have resulted in some sort of progress or success or power he could use for good. Choices, informed by the Spirit, resisting the seduction of the darkness, have to be made--after reflection and sometimes a whole lot of floundering around.

Let's say this is your wilderness: "Wow, if I take this new job I could send the kids to a good school or give more to help the homeless or enjoy prestige and influence in our town. So what if I'm seldom home till late? ... But then if I don't take it, I will have more time to nurture my children, support my spouse, give my gifts for the good of my community." Choices. Difficult choices. No easy answers. No one right way. No clear path out of the wilderness.

Christianity emphasizes Jesus' death and resurrection: Jesus died for us. But didn't Jesus also come to LIVE for us, to illustrate what it means to be a Godly human being and how we are to navigate the struggles involved? Jesus trusted the Spirit, which led him into the wilderness and led him out again. Jesus resisted the easy answers, instant gratification, material wealth, political power.

In whatever wilderness you wander this winter, pay attention to the still small voice, the glimmers of light, the signs and messages, and make the choices that lead you to deep nourishment and satisfaction. Don't leap on the easy answers, but with open mind and heart allow the Spirit to lead you. You are not alone. If you can trust that, even a little bit, you will be led through and out of that wilderness, with a deepened awareness of and connection to God, who will never leave you to face your struggles alone.

Surprises of Grace

Funny how so much goodness can completely skirt our awareness. And what a joy when we notice! The other night at church I was picking up some refuse in the parish hall, after attending two committee meetings.

As I wandered around the large room, a teen-aged girl came in. She had finished high school choir practice and was waiting for her mom. She asked if I'd seen her, I said no, so she got out her cell phone. For a bit, it was silent in the room. Then a clear voice said, "How has *your* day been going?" I thought she was talking into the phone (it's so hard to tell who's talking to whom anymore), but turning I saw she wasn't and I hesitantly said, "Me?" "Yes" she said, with a tone of "who else?" in her voice. So I happily said I'd had a good day and we chatted about the snowstorm and her cute new hairdo. Our conversation lasted just a few minutes. I know this young woman and good coming from her is never a total surprise, as she is a grace-filled person. Still, her willingness to converse with me touched and lifted my spirit. To her it was just normal and no big deal. A surprise of Grace; an evidence of God in and through us. I am grateful.

Vivian's Popcorn

Our church now has a popcorn machine. What, you say? A popcorn machine! What kind of foolishness is that? What a waste of money in a time of such great need all around us! Why on earth would you buy a popcorn machine? Those were some of my reactions when I first heard of this use of memorial funds.

But I've come to a different view point about it. You see, Vivian lived to be very old. She was from the Middle East, Lebanon, I think, and her parents immigrated to this country. She worked as a child;she worked as an adult; she worked as a volunteer. In later years, she became one of the most willing and reliable volunteers in our parish. She did other things, too, like crochet the ends of little kitchen towels so you could "button" them over your kitchen drawer handle. And she made "dammit" dolls by the bag full. If she thought someone needed a lift or some appreciation, she'd bring one or both and quietly give them to that person during the coffee hour.

AND, Vivian made popcorn. She was a loyal part of the popcorn service at the hospital where I was chaplain. She was doing that before I arrived in 1991 and she was still doing it after I left in 2005. On a certain day each week when I came down to the cafeteria, I knew Vivian would be there selling popcorn. She always gave a hearty greeting and tried to tempt me to spend 50 cents for a bag. Sometimes she succeeded!

It occurred to me that in Vivian's childhood and most of her adult life, too, she didn't have the luxury of having much play and frivolity. After talking with her family, our priest decided to use the memorial gifts in her honor to buy a popcorn machine. On three sides across the top it says, "Vivian's Popcorn: Made with Christian Love". Oh, I think her spirit is smiling and I know much joy will come from the product of this "frivolous" machine. And maybe, if Vivian's spirit has its way, we'll raise some funds to help others while we enjoy that popcorn and remember her with gratitude and love. May it be so!

How can we ever learn?

A friend who faithfully reads my blog (thank you!) mentioned that I hadn't been writing too many posts of late. It's easy to get out of the habit.

The catastrophe in Haiti is on everyone's mind, an event of such disastrous proportions it boggles the mind--like the Tsunami and Katrina and 9/11 did. Perhaps this affects us in part because Haiti is so relatively close to home; or because it is a nation whose people have always suffered and struggled to barely survive. Our sense of the unfairness of it all comes into play, even though we all know fairness has little to do with how life works. Still, we desire it. And at least for the moment, the actions of people from all parts of the world are focused on compassion and caring, instead of power, greed and abuse.

I was pleased, for example, to hear that Cuba waived the rule of our military flying in their air space, so that the planes could get to Haiti much quicker. And one of the "miracle" stories of a late rescue involved a team from Turkey, a country and a people that I have grown to love. In the midst of such devastation, there seems little concern about what religion someone is or what their politics are. I've said before that this attitude was part of why I loved hospital ministry. When people are down to the basics--life or death, pain or freedom from pain--the other things don't count. The hospital staff is dedicated to healing, no matter who someone is or what they think.That at least holds true in the emergency situations; not as much when things calm down.

So I puzzle, as countless others have and will, over what it is in the human psyche that can rise to such heights of goodness and self-sacrifice when things are the worst, only to slip back into patterns of whining, grasping, and abuse once life is back to "normal."

Greg Mortenson has written two books I highly recommend: "Three Cups of Tea" and "Stones into Schools". He was on Bill Moyers Journal Friday night and it was heartening to hear him say that the military generals have read 3Cups and are talking with him about how to work more effectively with the Afghan people. He said our military needs to develop relationships with the tribal elders, which is a large and difficult task, but one which might actually bring about stability and peace ultimately. And, for what it costs our government to support ONE soldier for a year in Afghanistan, Greg said he could build many schools--I think it was 30-40.

So on this Martin Luther King Day, I pray we may someday learn how to "overcome."