Entering into the Wilderness

This blog post is late. I know. It’s been my intention this season to publish a post on each Sunday of Advent. God prompted me to do this and I relied on Him to provide the content and wording. And He has. The posts came naturally and they were a delight to write. So, I expected this week to be no different. I felt confident that God would lead me to share exactly what I needed to at the right time. That was Monday of last week. And then Tuesday came and Wednesday and surprisingly Thursday, Friday and Saturday followed immediately after. And nothing. I had no significant thoughts and certainly nothing that inspired me for this post.

Except for one annoying thing.

Separate from my blog posts, I’m also reading different advent devotionals in order to spend this season intentionally waiting on God. Now, as I’ve shared before, waiting really has become a way of life for me–a way to worship. Yet there are times when my waiting is filled with celebration and joy and there are times where God has led me straight through deserts of grief during my waiting. I’ll let you imagine which times I prefer.

This week, I read a devotional about how God leads us into wilderness areas of our lives-places that are barren spiritually and need cultivation. The reading encouraged us to follow God into those desert areas and find in them Christ’s presence, hope, and restoration. As I finished reading the short devotional, my only thought and prayer was that I wanted to avoid this wilderness for right now. Like others, I've traveled through spiritual wildernesses before and they are unpleasant, treacherous, and sometimes gut wrenching. I didn’t feel strong enough emotionally to enter into the barren places of my life. I felt overwhelmed at the idea that there was more to learn in the desert right now (I was secretly hoping for some mountaintop time with the Lord). It always costs to enter into the wilderness places of our lives. It requires letting go of things that are important to us and finding life in the presence of God. I know some of what the wilderness requires. You probably do too. And this week it was hard for me to want to enter into that.

Isaiah 35:1-4 says that one day, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; 
like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing...Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, fear not!...He will come and save you.’

He will come. This week when I longed not to go through the wilderness, when I felt like the promise of God was too far for me to reach, and when I was overwhelmed by the thought of time in a spiritual desert, I was reminded that God comes to me. I do not need to reach Him. I do not need to be strong enough to go to Him. He reaches me. He comes to me. He is the God who comes to us - in the wilderness and on the mountain. God walked with Adam and Eve. He showed Moses His glory. He spoke to Jeremiah. Christ came to us in Bethlehem. And He will keep on coming to you and me until we are with Him face to face.

As God comes to us and we spend time in His presence, He works in the wilderness of our lives bringing rejoicing, blossoming, and awesome crocuses (croci?). In His presence is the fullness of joy and whether I go through the wilderness or stand on a mountain with God, I know I want to be with Him. So with my feeble knees and weak hands, I open myself up to His leading into the barren places of my life. I trust Him to guide me tenderly through the wilderness and I’m grateful that He responds gently to my cries for another way. This season, I’m praying that God leads us to the exact places where we can most experience His life and find true joy.