Just over a week ago, before I knew anything about this lent blog, I sent an email to my mom saying that my recent move to Seattle seemed to me to be the right thing, though as much as I love this city, I likened my time here to Jesus’ 40 days in the desert. Ironically, the first theme of our lent blog is “the desert.”
For many people, the desert is a hot, dry, god-forsaken, ugly bit of Earth. For me, at the moment, the desert is full of beauty. Every day I see snow-capped mountains on either side of me. Within minutes I can be on the beach, hearing waves lap upon the shore as seals bark just off the docks. (Coming from South Dakota, these are exciting sounds.) And while I am encompassed by beauty, both in nature and in the individuals by which I find myself surrounded, these last two weeks have been among the driest and harshest of my life.
I find it interesting that in the Scripture for this week, it was the Spirit that led Jesus into the desert, as that's kind of how it seemed I've ended up in Seattle. Jesus had just come from being baptized and hearing his father’s voice to suddenly being completely isolated. I do not mean to imply that I feel isolated since my move to Seattle, but rather challenged. I have been challenged to give up everything to Christ, like I never have been before. To die to myself. To wander in the wilderness after a time of plenty, as my time in Sioux Falls truly was. But while in the desert, there is nothing one seeks more than water. And while I wander in the desert, I will not go thirsty for Jesus is the living water. He is a much-welcomed oasis.
As we journey with Jesus during this Lenten season, we begin where He began: the desert. Yet dry as it may be, he is to be our refuge. He, too, has wandered in the desert and knows what it’s like to be hot, tired, hungry, and tempted. He has understood the need for refreshment. This is what he longs to be for me. Maybe eventually I will realize that is truly only in Him I will find a quenching of my thirst.
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3 comments:
Hey. It's me.
I'm wondering if you might comment on an idea that only recently crossed my mind regarding the whole Desert thing. I could just as easily ask you in person over a beer, but that seems to run antithetical to this blog. So here it be, textually:
I presume (with a degree of justification probably acceptable to even a skeptic) that Jesus must have encountered a severe sort of loneliness in those forty days. Given the stark transition from your house in SD to what is now an intentional community - how does that play into the idea of your being in "the driest and harshest" of deserts in your life.
Basically, what's your take on loneliness at the moment, given the circumstances of your present stay?
Peace, grace, and all things that sustain our souls-
Amanda.
Nice, real nice. You are a good writer, I'm impressed. Thanks for your thoughts.
I exist in the desert, with only the Spirit to sustain me so...I am happy for all of you who get to walk out into the green and black-velvet wet earth, feel the rain on your faces, shaded from God's incendiary radiance. It must be restful, peaceful...but is it why you all seem to feel so lonely?
Amanda's question is a great one, I am curious myself to hear your answer...maybe we should all go get beers, Buccaneer anyone?
peace,
Dana
You are such a good writer. Your thoughts reminded me of an experience on the coast of Cumberland Island, Georgia. It was condensed into one afternoon, but it still seemed important. Eric and I had already walked several miles of forest when we finally got to the beach. The bright sun was deceptive, as it was cold and windy. I was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt and I was shivering; the wind was whipping sand on my skin. I wanted to be anywhere but there, but it was just as far back through the forest as forward on the beach, so we kept going. Eric gave me his brown hoody, which was way too big. I put it on and he told me I looked like a monk.
Even though I was exhausted, I kept pushing myself to keep going because I just wanted to get this miserable walk over with. Finally, I decided we had to take a break. I didn't feel like talking so I tightened my little monk hoody and took out this set of paints that I had with me. In painting the landscape, I realized this total visual beauty that I was missing because I was so focused on my tired legs, my cold skin. As I continued, I realized that it was this lack of trees or any shelter to break the wind that made it such a beautiful setting: simply endless white sand meeting dark blue ocean that disappeared into the color of the sky.
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