Psalm 107:1-9, 43

1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, and his mercy endures for ever.

2 Let all those whom the Lord has redeemed proclaim that he redeemed them from the hand of the foe.

3 He gathered them out of the lands; from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.

4 Some wandered in desert wastes; they found no way to a city where they might dwell.

5 They were hungry and thirsty; their spirits languished within them.

6 Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress.

7 He put their feet on a straight path to go to a city where they might dwell.

8 Let them give thanks to the Lord for his mercy and the wonders he does for his children.

9 For he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.

43 Whoever is wise will ponder these things, and consider well the mercies of the Lord.

Ah, Wilderness

The wilderness is a persistent image in scripture. After dramatic escape from Egyptian slavery, the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. Trace the journey and you’ll see that there was nothing direct about the route. Seems they had little idea of where they were going. Years later, when Israelites were exiled to Babylon, prophets promised a way home, but it would have to pass through the wilderness. John the Baptist took his ministry not to Times Square but into the wilderness where he prepared the way of the Lord and called his congregants a brood of vipers. Interesting approach to preaching. Before Jesus began his public ministry, he spent forty days in the wilderness where he was tested.

So wilderness experience does not just appear in the psalm you may have heard in church yesterday (reprinted in this email). That psalm describes people wandering in desert wastes, not finding their way, hungry and thirsty, spirits languishing until the Lord put their feet on a straight path, leading them to a place in which they could dwell.

I suspect that the image of wilderness persists because everyone knows something about wilderness. Have you ever found yourself in that kind of circumstance, literally or figuratively? Those circumstances come in great variety. Maybe you’re there this Monday morning.

In the scripture, and in life, the wilderness is a place of challenge. One of the great challenges described in scripture is that the desert was described as a tractless wasteland. In other words, there were no roads or signage or GPS. One would have no idea if they were headed in the right direction. Meanwhile, sources of refreshment were in short supply. Those are just a few reasons why wilderness experiences are hard. I know from years of parish ministry the many ways that people find themselves in the wilderness, experiences which can often be beyond overwhelming.

It's why this oft-cited prayer of Thomas Merton is so important. It reflects a certain experience of wilderness:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end, nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

If we can embrace that prayer, owning its wisdom even just a bit, we can see that the wilderness is not only a place of challenge. It can be a place of formation. The children of Israel entered the wilderness a nation unformed. As they traveled, they learned what it meant to be a faithful community, courtesy of hard lessons along the way. They learned to trust, even when trust seemed foolish. They wandered around until they were ready for the promised land, ready to be a community.

As in Thomas Merton’s prayer, we may find ourselves not knowing where we are headed. The promise of our faith is that we have a faithful guide. We may not know the future, but we know the one who holds the future. We who swim in the Christian stream are not promised to know all that lies ahead. We’re simply called to hear Jesus’ call: Follow me. As we figure out what that means in our own context, may the challenge of wilderness also bring about formation. And whatever our variation of wilderness experience, may we be assured that we move forward trusting that we are not in it alone.

-Jay Sidebotham