Wilderness Work

 “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the Devil”

And so our Lenten journey begins …. again as though for the first time…

While I do not believe so much in an actual devil, I do believe that this Gospel lesson on this first Sunday of Lent opens the way to reflection upon the non duality of the wilderness, led by the spirit and met by temptation of sin. As such, the wilderness becomes both a story of Lenten preparation: praying, almsgiving and repentance, as well as a metaphor for those times and spaces in our lives when we are cast or venture into unknown territory, emotionally, physically and spiritually.

I believe we are meant to journey deeply into the theology of wilderness during this time and at all times as Jesus taught us that the transfiguration into glory comes by way of the cross, not around it.

As the couplets in the prayer of St Francis teach us one cannot have life abundantly without death, one cannot have faith without doubt.

I am fascinated by the notion of wilderness. it is certainly an important lenten theme as we contemplate and imitate jesus’ 40 days in the wild, be it desert or forest. but 40 days has come to be more of a leit motif in the great symphony of God’s salvation history and wilderness, thinking exodus, lent and pandemics now, is more like Wagner’s Ring. It is as much about endurance and survival as it is about discovery and liberation. 

In short I believe we miss the full theology of wilderness if we focus on timing, physical place and anxiety. the fullness of wilderness is a mapless space of darkness and light, death and life, threat and assurance. Wilderness can be revelatory of God’s grace.

We are all called to venture into places or spaces we are not inclined otherwise to go; or perhaps we are called to try on something challenging which deepens our relationship with the divine even if we don’t “see” it. Sometimes we are cast into such spaces, like during times of pandemics or exile; sometimes we are beckoned by the Spirit. 

Whatever the mode of entry or location or willingness, wilderness has come to signify a space of anxiety, uncertainty, even danger. Wilderness has lost some of its exciting and life-giving connotations. 

Wilderness can be anything which presents previously unknown challenges, previously avoided situations. Wildernesses tend to be mapless; we are finding our way. Wildernesses tend to be anxiety producing; we are to remember we are not alone. 

And then we as Christians are reminded that Jesus is the way…the map

And the most often used phrase in the Bible is fear not…

The theology of Lent would suggest that wilderness is a necessary teacher for the followers of Jesus. Wilderness passage is a formational requisite for discipleship. Wilderness is a cultivator of wisdom, a place for encounters and opportunities for growth. In wilderness we meet ourselves, the good parts and the difficult parts. We can be wildernesses as well!

For me, in large part due to the pandemics of the last few years, wilderness and even Lent have become less circumscribed by chronological time and more about timelessness or as I like to say about God’s time, kairos. Learning to live and move and breathe and have our being in wilderness spaces has become for me a daily challenge and opportunity, a rule of life really.

As someone who believes that wildernesses occur daily and who has felt not only the anxiety of the pandemics but also the opportunities and liberating potential, I suggest that we pray about adjusting our expectations and adopt an orientation of hope as we embrace wilderness and dwell in uncertainty and assurance together.

I have learned a lot about wilderness and this approach from womanist, or black feminist theology, as well as nature writers such as Terry Tempest Williams. 

The womanist theology asserts that the learnings from wilderness must be celebrated and passed down…usually at the kitchen table. …

Wilderness work is to listen for the ancestors and the prophets crying out in the wilderness how to live, how to move how to be in this often cruel world.

Tempest Williams suggests that there is a “glorious indifference” to wilderness which is a phrase in itself which catches me up short. Glorious is certainly reminiscent of the prophetic assertions of God’s glory and of the transfiguration which we recently celebrated. Glory is the deep soul change of salvation in which we are engaged as sin is washed clean and blood red turns to glimmering white. 

Indifference suggests that we suspend that which we hold too tightly, certainties which may not in fact be so. 

She says: this is wilderness to walk in silence

this is wilderness to calm the mind

this is wilderness my return to composure

The mountain was a glorious indifference, a repeating grace, a geologic fortress that softened in shadows. The view was vast. I was small. I found relief.

A repeating grace…like a leit motif or refrain which brings recognition and some kind of relaxation of the tension. 

The lenten chord which resounds in the wilderness and repeats and repeats and repeats is mercy.

Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.

I can feel the tension lighten, loosen.

The intentionality and intensity with which we turn to those words during the wilderness of Lent might also teach us about their constancy and assurance in all times.

The implication of all which has gone before is that wilderness is less a noun than a verb. Less a place than a space. Less a moment than a life process. 

The Spirit is inviting us to do wilderness work. It may involve giving up chocolate if that is what is keeping you from  embracing the challenge of life; but it also may be to double down on prayer and contemplation in unknown territory. It may mean to burn the old maps and let yourself be lost for a while.

Wilderness work disorients at first. Cry for mercy.

Remaining with this discomfort causes reorientation in the name of Jesus.

I invite you to think about your own wildernesses…

For many of us we don’t have to go far to remember the isolation and uncertainty of days since March 2020. 

For many of us we are still residing in a space of anger and fear about gun violence.

For many of us we are dwelling in a chaotic time of racial violence and other forms of oppression.

Some of us have more localized wildernesses: illness, loss, grief, aloneness

Whatever the space into which you have been cast or reluctantly venture, please know it is a holy Lenten space AND you are not alone. the Living God accompanies you always!

With that blessed assurance perhaps cracks of light get exposed in the darkness. Perhaps the brilliance of dawn’s grace and its regularity and certainty assist in the traversing of unknown and unwanted spaces. 

Our faith teaches us that just beyond or through the wilderness is not only a violent death on the cross, but a glorious and transforming resurrection. The wilderness of all wildernesses is this thing we call the paschal mystery. No maps, no building plans, no scripts, and no fabricated lights even. Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Light. May we walk with Him and emerge with Him and celebrate in glory everlasting as we go to meet the Living God.