In last week’s devotion we talked about wilderness as representing God’s wild and free spirit, not bound to human structure and institutions. But this week, we’re going to talk about wilderness as being a desolate and dark place. 
 
One day I decided that I should go to the actual wilderness to really understand wilderness in scripture. So, what that meant was I went to my backyard—not just my regular backyard—the backyard *behind* my fence. Behind the fence is this land in the middle of our neighborhood full of trees that’s meant to catch and drain water when it rains really hard. But when it’s not raining, it’s mostly dry. So, on a dry day, I put on my wilderness shoes and I went to the wilderness. As I pushed aside some thorny plants blockading the entrance, I stepped into the wilderness and was stunned at how vast it was. I couldn’t even see the other side where I knew there were houses. I had no idea there was such a big area back there. 
 
Then, I noticed an abandoned beach ball on the ground and wondered how long it had been there. Then all of a sudden, I saw a camouflage bucket hung on a tree with a string that looked like it was filled with ammo and looked like some sort of booby trap, so I got away from that as fast as possible. As I was walking away, I saw some leafy plant on the ground and thought – I wonder if that’s poison oak – what does poison oak look like again? Then, I started noticing holes in the ground, and thought to myself – do snakes live in holes? And just as I was about to freak out about snakes, I looked down, and there were hundreds of mosquitos flying around my legs. I lasted in the wilderness about five minutes.
 
Some of us are thrust into the wilderness not by our own choice, but by systemic injustices or devastating trauma. When I was thrust into the wilderness after a deep betrayal, I found that the wilderness of my soul was a lot like that trip to my backyard. Being thrust into the wilderness was like being shoved through the blockade of thorns, a series of painful, sharp, realizations that slashed at my joy and left me with open wounds. As I looked around my wilderness, I found that it was indeed vast, full of hurt with no end in sight.
 
I saw the abandoned beach ball, memories of a fun and beautiful life in the past that now looked lost and abandoned, never to be retrieved again. The triggers of my pain were like booby traps, spiraling me back to the beginning of my pain all over again, making me feel stuck, like there was no forward path to healing. The poison oak was reminders that spread my soul with bitterness, anger, and resentment. The snake holes were my fear that I’m not safe and I need to shield myself from any future pain. And the mosquitoes, the constant thoughts surrounding me, telling me that it was my fault this trauma happened, because I’m not good enough. 
 
This wilderness can be a dark place. In spiritual circles it’s called the dark night of the soul. It’s a place where we feel abandoned by God, wondering, “God, where are you?” Where are you in my cancer? Where are you in my grief? Where are you in my loneliness? Where are you in my depression?
 
Surely the Israelites were asking this same question when they were taken from their home, their sense of security and safety, taken away from their identity, away from their beloved temple, God’s dwelling place with humanity,[1]and exiled to Babylon. They too were in a dark place. Psalm 137 tells us they wept at the streams of Babylon, longing for their home. They couldn’t even sing songs because the pain of exile was too painful. 
 
But there is good news. We will be brought out of the wilderness.
 
The Israelites were eventually brought out of their captivity and returned to their land. In Advent readings for Week 3, we read Isaiah’s prophecy in chapter 35 that the Israelites will return to their home...singing! “Gladness and joy” will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away (Isa 35:10).
 
But the thing is, the journey out of the wilderness isn’t always what we expect. We don’t always see God working in our circumstances. And when we get to the other side of our healing, it’s not always rainbows and butterflies (to quote Maroon 5). 
 
That wasn’t the case for the Israelites, they didn’t quite have the glorious return they expected back home. They struggled to restore their lives.[2]And it’s not the case for me, I’m out of the throes of trauma yet still struggling with the aftermath of an anxiety disorder. And you may be able to relate. You may have gone through something terribly painful and thought you were healed, but every now and then the pain still stings your heart. 
 
Friend, I want to tell you today that joy and gladness does come. The joy and gladness we feel from being healed in this life isn’t necessarily because we’re done with the pain, but because we see the good that comes out it, because we’ve experienced the redemption that happens in this life, now.
 
Because of our pain, we now can empathize with others who have experienced what we’ve experienced, we can walk with someone who’s beginning the painful journey we just walked out of, and we can help people wait in the wilderness for complete deliverance. 
 
And during Advent and Christmas we celebrate our promise of complete deliverance, which is only possibly because Jesus became flesh and dwelt among us. And because Jesus became what we are, he knows every painful circumstance we go through. Jesus understands pain, abandonment, betrayal, and sickness. And our promise of complete deliverance was fulfilled when Jesus was crucified on the cross, was resurrected on the third day, and ascended into heaven. Jesus became a curse for us so what we could be freed from the curse of this world (Gal 3:13), so that we could be freed from the wildernesses of this life, let out of captivity of Sin and Death, and brought back from exile into God’s presence, so that we can enter God’s Kingdom with singing. Amen. 
 
Work Referenced:
​
[1]“Temple” The Bible Project. Accessed 13 December 2020. https://bibleproject.com/learn/temple/

[2]McCann, J. Clinton JR. “The Book of Psalms” in The New Interpreters Bible Commentary. Edited by Leander E. Keck et al. Abingdon Press: Nashville 2015, 537.

A few times a year, my mom and I head to a mountain cabin outside Chattanooga where there is the most beautiful vista and a stunning sunrise. When it’s warm, we do yoga, meditation, and prayer practices outside on the deck overlooking the mountains. We encounter God there and feel centered and overcome with peace. It’s interesting that we leave our respective homes and our churches to come to this place to experience God. It’s not that we don’t encounter God at home or in our church, but there’s something special about being in the wilderness that enables us to feel God’s presence is near.

During Advent readings, the theme of wilderness comes up when we read about John the Baptist in Matthew 3. John was a prophet who proceeded Jesus and preached in the wilderness, telling everyone he could that the Kingdom of God was near. I always picture John as a peculiar fellow, a man who’s a little off-kilter and would definitely stand out in a crowd. Kind of a Tarzan of sorts. Scripture is very specific to tell us that John wore clothes made of camel hair and ate locusts and wild honey (Matt 3:4). And what especially caught my attention about this passage is that it says people left the city of Jerusalem and all regions of Jordan to come to John out in the wilderness to hear about Jesus’ first and second coming (Matt 4:5). 

Like my mom and I pilgrimage to the mountain cabin to encounter God’s presence, the people of Jerusalem and all regions of Jordan also left their homes and their temple to hear John the Baptist share God’s truth outside of their traditions and religious institutions. 

Throughout scripture, the wilderness has many important implications and meanings, but in this instance, the wilderness reminds me of God’s wild and free spirit. God rarely follows human-made rules and structures. God could have chosen a well known Pharisee or a member of the Sanhedrin to prophesy about Jesus’ two comings, but God chose John the Baptist who preached outside of the Temple and ate the food of the poor.(1) 

God could have ensured that Jesus was born as someone of noble birth, born to a King to inherit a thrown. But instead, Jesus was born to a humble woman named Mary, who was almost disowned by her husband, and who had her baby in a cave surrounded by livestock. 

God could have chosen people with influence to be his disciples. People with powerful jobs who already had followers. But Jesus chose seemingly ordinary men—from the sunburned fisherman to the disliked tax collector—for his inner circle. 

God is not against institutions and structures, Jesus taught in synagogues for example (Luke 4:15), and God cannot be contained by institutions and structures—Jesus also taught on mountainsides (Matt 5:1), in houses (Luke 5:18), and on boats (Luke 5:3).

"God cannot be contained by institutions and structures..."

This Advent season, as you prepare your heart to celebrate Christ’s first coming and eagerly anticipate Christ’s second coming, grow closer to God by looking for God in the wilderness. Take time to find God in all things: in the songs on the radio, in the memories of your ornaments, in the joy of watching a child open a present. Open your mind to see God where you may not usually look. And the wilderness of your life may be a beautiful vista, but it also may be a desolate darkness. Regardless of what your wilderness looks like, you can find God there.

Work Referenced
(1) Boring, Eugene M. The New Interpreters Bible Commentary Volume VII. Edited by Leander E. Keck et. al. Abingdon Press: Nashville, 2015, 90.