As far as the eye can see, there is only brown. The soil is hard, cracked, and dry from lack of water. For miles there is only sand. There is no visible life. No relief from the brown. The sun beats down in unrelenting waves of heat. Movements are small and slow. Each breath, shallow to minimize the dryness, the weight of the heat. The smell of sand and salt permeate the air. Sweat dries almost before it forms. The wind brings no relief. Grit clings to the eyes and the nose. Nothing moves in this California desert.
Deserts in our spiritual journey can leave us feeling dry and empty, full of pain and darkness. And yet in the midst of a desert, there is life. You can see further in the desert. It brings things that are distant close and we find there are fewer distractions in the desert. God breathes new life into dry, barren places, places of devastation and places that seem to have no hope.
This season of Lent is a time of reflection, penitence, and self examination. It is a time to be in the desert with Jesus. A desert that is not dry and dead. Rather a desert that follows bathing in the life giving waters of baptism that leave us filled and never thirsty. It is a time of struggle and temptation, but also a time of overcoming.
Time in the desert is not just the story of Jesus we hear today. It is our story too. Immediately after his baptism we find Jesus in the desert where he confronts temptation. Our lives are full of temptation, times of barren and dry places, and even trouble.
Some preachers will tell you that by becoming a Christian, your troubles will end forever. The world will be full of rainbows and sunshine. You will never again know sadness, or pain, never suffer through trials. I cannot tell you that because we know it is not true.
Sometimes it feels just the opposite. When we become a follower of Jesus all sorts of trouble seems to ensue. We follow a Lord who is tempted, tried and crucified, who tells us to take up a cross and follow him. One temptation is to doubt God’s goodwill towards us when we find ourselves in trouble.
And what do we do in the midst of a natural disaster? Such a tragedy is NOT the result of sin, but rather the result of a natural process. Tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, and yes even earthquakes are natural processes. God does not stop natural processes but God IS present in the midst of the suffering.
Last Friday the earth quaked and buildings fell, waters broke free from the seas and covered dry lands. People died. People are hurting. Bad things happened that we do not understand. God is in the midst of them. God is in the midst in our hands and feet, with our prayers, with our offerings of time, talents, and treasures. God is in the midst of this tragedy in us as we try to relieve that suffering.
As Christians we are not spared trials and temptation. We are human and often find ourselves or those we love in the midst of bad things that happen to and around us. Our faith must be found again and again. We are not spared trouble nor are we immune to the snares and tricks of the Adversary.
Jesus' Temptation marks a defeat of Satan. What begins here in the desert continues with Jesus' victory over death on the cross. The power of sin is being broken. Jesus comes from the desert to go forth and proclaim the Gospel. He leaves the desert to preach and teach and heal and establish relationships.
Most of us aren't tempted or tormented by demons that are seen. Satan is not so blatant with us but rather comes to us in more subtle and devious ways. In ways that are often unseen and subliminal. Ol’ Slewfoot tempts us into thinking we don't need the grace of God, that we can live a good life all on our own or that we can manipulate God to do what we want.
We are tempted to think that religion is to help us make it through the day or the week—that it is all about us rather than all about God. We are tempted to think we can find security in worldly things, rather than in God. We are tempted to look down on others, being critical and judgmental, thinking less of those that differ from us. We are tempted to think all we have is our instead of God’s. We are tempted to hold back from sharing our time, talents, and gifts, because getting ahead becomes more important.
Slewfoot does not usually come to us in scary shapes, like the monster in the closet or the scary thing under the bed but instead in things that look good and tempting and desirable. Things we think we must have to be full. Things we are told over and over again by the world around us we must have. That new car, the big house, or even the soft drink that will get us the date with the cute blonde.
This Lent I invite you to join Jesus in the desert. Take these forty days to listen to and for God. In the midst of the barrenness, look for the little glimpses of God along the way and remember that it is baptism that brings you to the desert in the first place. At the end of these forty days, may you be ready to proclaim with a loud voice the good news of God in Christ.
As far as the eye can see, there is only brown. The soil is hard, cracked, and dry from lack of water. For miles there is only sand. There is no visible life. No relief from the brown. The sun beats down in unrelenting waves of heat. Movements are small and slow. Each breath, shallow to minimize the dryness, the weight of the heat. The smell of sand and salt permeate the air. Sweat dries almost before it forms. The wind brings no relief. Grit clings to the eyes and the nose. Nothing moves in this California desert.
And yet as the eyes become adjusted to the desolate land, movement becomes apparent. It is in the moth feeding on the blossom of a Joshua tree in a dance of life where each needs the other. Life becomes visible. At the base of the Joshua tree, nestle desert marigolds in all their orange glory. Not seen at first and yet, there they sit. Unexpected, beautiful, a sign of hope. The wind shifts and a light rain begins to fall. As your gaze reaches up to capture it, drink it in, there it is. In all its glory. A reminder that God is with us in this place. A sign that in this dry land, there is life. A sign that the waters of baptism sustain us even in the dry barren places we journey through. In all its majesty, there is the bow in the sky.
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