a few thoughts from the wilderness
The wilderness is a place of becoming.
God imparts identity in the wilderness, whether in the literal desert of the Hebrews or the metaphorical desert of our deepest pains and fears. Brueggemann writes, “The wilderness is a precondition for covenant and land,” both of which mark the boundaries of Israel’s identity (Reverberations of Faith 231). The covenant God made with Israel, when he delivered the Law on Mt.Sinai (Ex. 19-20), echoed and affirmed the original Abrahamic covenant (Gen 15): a covenant which would take another step towards fulfillment when the Israelites finally entered the promised land (Josh. 3).
The wilderness was also the place where Israel grew in experiential understanding of the identity of God. Exodus 7:16 finds God telling Pharaoh (through Moses), for the tenth and final time, that he must let the Israelites go “so that they may worship me in the wilderness.” Over the course of forty years in the desert the Israelites deepened in their understanding of God’s faithfulness in provision, in community, and in presence:
Early on in their journey, as the provisions they had taken from Egypt began to run out, the Israelites began to experience extreme hunger and thirst. They yearned for Egypt, because even though they had been slaves, at least they had always had enough to eat and drink (Ex. 16:2-3). The temptation to return to something that is known that is harmful and painful can be overwhelming, especially when you are faced with following God into the unknown. Even desires for things that are harmful can be rationalized in the midst of difficult circumstances. This is especially true with any kind of addiction (to anything from substances to the affirmation of others.)
Yet the wilderness provides an opportunity to cling to the promises of God, and look to him for sustenance. When the Israelites did this, he answered them by providing manna, a sort of bread, from heaven, which they were to gather just enough of each day to feed their families. It was delicious and very effective at fulfilling their physical needs (Ex. 16:15-19). But it still required them to trust God on a daily basis for provision: those who hoarded it soon found that it spoiled before they could eat it all (Ex. 16:20-21).
On the battlefield of Rephidim (Ex. 17), Moses found that the Israelite army would only win against the opposing army of Amalek when Moses' hands were raised. But the longer he kept his hands up, the more tired he became, until he grew so fatigued it was impossible for him to even stand up.Â
"But Moses' hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun" (Ex 17: 12).
In a society that places independence above most other values, vulnerabilityin relationship is often dismissed as weakness. People in leadership roles, especially, are reluctant to admit when they are nearing the end of their own capacity, and choose to focus on maintaining an an outer image instead of taking steps toward wholeness in the context of community.
But God's strength is revealed when his children bear each other's burdens.
At every turn, the nation of Israel fought against the guidance of God, dismissed his blessings, and looked to other gods to fulfill the promises he had made them. Yet he remained with them, parting seas and making bread appear like morning dew on the grass. Beginning in Egypt, he set out to transform them from slaves to deliverers: messengers of his love and faithfulness to the nations.
Modern readers may be familiar with the phrase, “dark night of the soul,” which was popularized by St. John of the Cross, a Carmelite monk who lived and wrote in the sixteenth century (Moore, Dark Nights of the Soul xvi). He claimed that the deepest truths about one’s self and God are discerned in the midst of the darkest times of our lives. It would seem that that was true for the Israelites, whose wilderness wanderings permanently shaped their own identity and etched an image of an unfailingly faithful God into their hearts.
Their story has penetrated my own heart, and in the midst of one of the deepest and darkest times of my life I have been encouraged to walk through this time without fear. Because the Lord is with me, I have the strength to be still in the midst of painful circumstances. I can look to God for my provision: financially, socially and emotionally.
I am free to be vulnerable in relationships, knowing that his strength is revealed in the friendship of his children: wounded warriors in the midst of their own battles.
I do not need to “get myself together” or strive to somehow make myself worthy of relationship with him, because he already knows me and loves me.
There's no rush, because he's not waiting for me on the other side. He dwells with me now.Â
Somehow I'm finding it easier to believe all of this in the midst of the wilderness. Maybe it will change as things get easier- I'll let you know!
