The baptism was a scene of power
and glory. The affirming voice of God, the dove of the Spirit:
what a dynamic way to get going! But then it says, "The
Spirit immediately drove Jesus out into the wilderness ... forty
days ... tempted by Satan ... wild beasts." Not
a fun time. Not spiritually fulfilling as we might think
of it. But it was formative; crucial; a testing time.
Sometimes we think that if we're being truly spiritual everything
will fall into place and go smoothly. Not so. Spiritual
deepening occurs in the deserts of life. For some mysterious
reason, it seems even Jesus had to face this time in the wilderness.
The physical hardships were bad enough—searing sun, scorching
wind, hunger and thirst, reptiles—but the spiritual challenge
was the real test. Supreme good confronted ultimate evil. All
outward supports were taken away from Jesus.
In the wilderness with the Lord, we're a long way from giving
up candy for Lent. I'm not knocking it. Any creature
comfort, or guilty pleasure we cherish, is hard to quit. A
boy decided to give up candy for Lent, and finding that to be
too burdensome, he narrowed it down to just chocolate. Again
temptation proved too great, and he further defined his sacrifice,
to include only chocolate with coconut. Since he hated coconut,
he at last had hit upon a commitment he could keep. It's hard
to give up anything. Such relinquishment can be a spiritual
discipline in itself. But don't trivialize Lent by thinking
of it primarily as what we give up. Think of Lent first as
Christ's time of severe battle with the devil for us. It's
about the Lord. And in the Christian calendar it culminates
in the Cross, and then the resurrection. There's nothing
trivial about it. It's not about us—it's
about Jesus.
But—the Bible says we do have a role to play. It's
one of the paradoxes of Christian faith. Christ has accomplished
all we need for salvation: but we still have a part to play.
Ephesians 4:31 says, "Put away from you all bitterness,
wrath, anger, slander, and malice." There's a definite action
recommended: put all these things away. In the same chapter it
says, "You were taught to put away your former way of life,
your old self, and to clothe yourselves with the new self, in
Christ." There
are things we need to do in the Christian life. We live by
grace—all is God's doing—but God seeks and invites
our cooperation in the spiritual life. Giving up tasty treats
and favorite shows can free us up to pursue prayer and study.
But the Bible also has a concern for our relational qualities.
Give up dissing people; put away gossip; get rid of prejudice;
say goodbye to rudeness and temper tantrums; let go of greed.
Lent can be a good time to examine our tendencies toward these
things. And—to
kick it up a notch—what about taking something on for Lent?
It's not just giving things up. Put on the character of Christ.
This is the part where we often opt out of Lent. "Oh, no:
I'm not Christ. I'm just a poor sinner. You
don't expect me to act like Jesus, do you?" Well,
yes. God expects us to act like Jesus: to imagine the possibility
of responding unexpectedly to the onslaughts of life, and the
poor behavior of other people. This is our opportunity for witness.
Let me share with you about a friend locally who did that,
because of this person's Christian faith. When this person moved
into a neighborhood some years ago, the welcome flags were not
exactly flying. For whatever reason, neighbors were less than
hospitable. What did this person do? This person could
have returned evil for evil. Instead, they brought gifts of
cookies and brownies to the neighbors, and friendly smiles. It
took a couple of years, but eventually kindness won the day.
It doesn't always win the day. But we're supposed
to give it our best shot.
It says, the Spirit drove Jesus out there. He didn't
say to himself, "I think I'll go out to the desert
for a while." God led him there. Sometimes Lent
comes out of the blue. Green pastures turn suddenly to parched,
cracked dirt. In the 1930's, America's Bread Basket
overnight became its Dustbowl. Illness—our own or a
loved one's—can come in an instant. Personal and
financial reversal can swoop down like an avenging eagle. We
say, "How in the world did I get here to this barren wilderness
all of a sudden?" But there we are. What do you
do? Lose a few nights' sleep. Worry yourself sick. Then
you take stock—like the psalmist, you cry out to God. Prayer
can be a last resort—or a first resort. But pray. And
here's the Christ connection. The promise is that WE
DON'T WALK ALONE. The Son of God goes with us—into
every desert. He is the oasis where we can always find refreshment.
Even when we can't feel his presence, he's there. Especially
then.
Then—realize that after every wilderness, there's a
time of renewal. The church in early centuries started to
observe Lent in order to prepare new members. They recognized
the need for an experience that would make Christians distinctive.
They led the new folks through a difficult Lenten journey of
severe fasting, short sleep, and intensive teaching. Eastern
Orthodox Christians still sometimes keep this severe aspect of
Lent. But then comes Easter. They came through something like
death—then
they could have a real celebration: resurrection! Sometimes
we get stuck in the desert—the people of Israel wandered
for years—decades—crossing a wilderness they could
have gone through in a matter of weeks. But in the spiritual
life, the desert is meant as prelude to resurrection. "The
desert will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus it will burst into bloom." That's what
Isaiah says. Then it gets really interesting. It speaks
to all people—to all of us—who've spent some
time in the barren place, the dry place. "Strengthen
the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way, say to those
with fearful hearts, 'Be strong; don't be afraid. Your
God will come.'" And there's a special concern
for those whose lives are a kind of long wilderness experience:
those with disabilities—the lame, the hearing- and vision-impaired,
the voiceless. For them there will be a new day.
Lent is a time for personal observance. It's a time for taking
on a form of service or some deepening spiritual practice. And
it's a time to be people of resurrection hope, for those
who long to see God's promised new day In Christ.
Let us pray:
God of our journey, you walk with us through the barren places
of life. We see, even in the desert time, glimpses of
glory in the resurrection that awaits. Make us, all through
these days of Lent, people of hope, who give courage to fellow
pilgrims along the way; through Christ our Lord. Amen.
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