Stop, Don't Go There

 

               Yeah, I should have added some other “bomb” 90’s phrases to that title, maybe offered you a squeeze-it or a sunny d as we settle into today’s topic. While I would love to share a drink with you, dear reader, that’s slightly difficult in the “blog” format, so I’ll just write like we’re sitting across from each other, soaking in the rare glimpses of sun in a northwest spring, and “take a moment sittin’ right here to tell you how I became…” jaded and scared.

That’s right, as look back over the last few months, I realize that it has been predictably surprising. Predictable that re-entry sucked, that I still have random dreams, powerful sensory memories, and moments of wanting to hop on the next plane. But it’s always surprising the when those times occur—I’m never quite ready for their power and the way they still tug at my heart strings and force me to look at the “unanswerable questions” of poverty, hunger, orphans, widows, and marginalized that we so easily over look but who Jesus repeatedly reminds us to look after. I say “unanswerable” because it’s easy to be defeated in the numbers, the prevalence, the ignorance of the wealthy world—myself included. So, surprisingly, I’ve learned ways to cope—to remember that I am not responsible for each of those beautiful children that forever changed my view of the poor—to look at what IS before me, today, what I CAN do is remember, plan ways to return, pray, have hope.

But those last two options—prayer and hope, are hard to come by when you’re in a spiritual wasteland. Soon after I returned from Kenya I was reading a blog and the author remarked that immediately after Jesus was anointed and baptized he was sent to the desert to be tempted. Seems harsh right? Like, “I am here, I send you, I call you my own—now go face a 40 day test from the enemy, pronto”. Seems like Jesus was “thrown in the pool” without floaties. But I have to look at that passage and remind myself I am finite, I fail, daily, so maybe my interpretation of this passage and the following, needs some editing.

               From a human perspective, it doesn’t seem loving to be tested after being called and affirmed. We’d like the high and easy road, no cracks, sink holes, or detours to paradise, please. But Where would the need for faith be if we didn’t have struggles, suffering, pain? (I know I’m precariously treading the line of delving into another “unanswerable” question of suffering and God’s Sovereignty).  Another way to look at this time in Jesus is life is that it wasn’t a throw into the water to sink or swim into his calling and purpose—it was the next step. Its logical that the called Son of God would face adversity from a world that is so blinded and deafened by sin all it wants is for the conviction to go away. Light pierces darkness and salt hurts in a gaping wound.

               So why do I expect my life to be different? Why am I so shocked when after a clear season of provision—the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, I find myself immediately thrust into a desert that I didn’t ask for, is a little too sandy and hot, and those mirages of clarity are sure a pain in the behind. No, I should expect this, it’s Christ-like to go through mountains and valleys.

               As you look at his desert time, and the temptation, you see that there was preparation in the desert. The desert was purposeful. My, your, deserts of faith and clarity, are purposeful. As we feel like we wander in circles, we must not forget that. The temptation he was ready to face came after the test of the desert—after he had “fasted for 40 days”. Timing is everything, and God is always right on time. Maybe I was naïve to think that the rest of my life would look just like the preparation and fulfillment of Kenya. Maybe I expected that assurance in all things. I wanted faith without uncertainty.

               One of the biggest aspects of Jesus’ temptation is the many times he deliberately avoids the train of thought that Satan is trying to derail him on. In a way his response is always some variety of “stop, don’t go there”. He refuses to doubt his father in the face of instant gratification, glory, and even “good” things like a loaf of bread in the desert. This is where I need work. All too often in this season I have taken the “easy” way, let my mind wander to the “solution” of doubting God is good when I see children eating paper or inversely crying because they’re not being spoiled enough today here in America; I dream of the glory of being recognized—being chosen—especially, someday by a husband; and can all too easily resent the beautiful invitations to celebrate with others. I take the loaf of provision for this day—steady job that I love, a widening friendship circle, clarity of grad school—and let it harden and mold as I overlook it as “too little”.

               But today, I am reminding myself to “stop, don’t go there”. There are trains of thoughts that derail my soul into fear, doubt, despondence—and I simply can’t go there. I can’t swim when I’m weighed down by questions I cannot answer and when fear of a future I can’t control seeps into my heart. Like Jesus I have to remember who my father is, that he called and sends me—that he loves me—and that this season is purposeful.