Into the Desert
Ezekiel 20:5-10
February 26th, 2023
Rev. Rhonda Blevins, pastor
In the seventh year, in the fifth month, on the tenth day of the month, certain elders of Israel came to consult the Lord and sat down before me. And the word of the Lord came to me: Mortal, speak to the elders of Israel, and say to them: Thus says the Lord God: Why are you coming? To consult me? As I live, says the Lord God, I will not be consulted by you. Will you judge them, mortal; will you judge them? Then let them know the abominations of their ancestors and say to them: Thus says the Lord God: On the day when I chose Israel, I swore to the offspring of the house of Jacob—making myself known to them in the land of Egypt—I swore to them, saying, “I am the Lord your God.” On that day I swore to them that I would bring them out of the land of Egypt into a land that I had searched out for them, a land flowing with milk and honey, the most glorious of all lands. And I said to them, “Cast away the detestable things on which your eyes feast, every one of you, and do not defile yourselves with the idols of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.” But they rebelled against me and would not listen to me; not one of them cast away the detestable things on which their eyes feasted, nor did they forsake the idols of Egypt. Then I thought I would pour out my wrath upon them and spend my anger against them in the midst of the land of Egypt. But I acted for the sake of my name, that it should not be profaned in the sight of the nations among whom they lived, in whose sight I made myself known to them in bringing them out of the land of Egypt. So I led them out of the land of Egypt and brought them into the wilderness.
Have you heard the good news? JJ was found!
This past Thursday morning, the two-year-old boy wandered away from his Hernando County home while his mom slept. When she woke up, and realized he was missing, she searched for an hour before calling the authorities to report the boy missing. Despite roughly 100 law enforcement officers searching by foot, horseback, ATV and helicopter—by nightfall, there was no sign of little JJ. At daybreak on Friday morning roughly 500 volunteers showed up to help search for the missing child, including 62-year-old ex-marine, Roy Link. When Link stepped into a wooded area, he heard a whimper. Looking toward the sound of the whimper, he spotted the boy, barefoot and scratched up, but otherwise healthy. “JJ,” Link said, gently. The whimpers grew louder. “Hey buddy, you ready to get out of here?” The little boy lifted his arms up, and the ex-marine picked up the terrified toddler, carrying him back to the road as he dialed 911, “Hey, I got him!” Link said. Soon enough, the two-year-old was sitting in an ambulance getting hugs and kisses from his mom and dad.
When I heard the good news about JJ, my heart was so touched that tears welled up in my eyes. The thought of that little boy in the wilderness all alone was heart-wrenching; to find him alive? So joyful!
Maybe it was empathy I felt. I hope that’s true. But as I explored my emotional response a little more deeply, I recognized that those tears were, at least in part, for me. There was a part of me that resonated with JJ’s experience: being lost and alone and afraid in the wilderness. Now, I’ve never been lost and alone and afraid in a literal wilderness like little JJ. But I certainly understand the wilderness from a metaphorical perspective (and I bet you do, too). The tears welling up in my eyes weren’t just for JJ, they were for me as well.
I wonder: might JJ be an archetype for us all? Is there a little child inside each of us that knows what it feels like to be lost and alone and afraid in the wilderness?
Today for our scripture lesson, I decided to go Old Testament for this first Sunday in the season of Lent. The 40 days of Lent remind us of Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness, or desert as some translations call it. And Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness hearken back to the 40 years the Hebrew people spent in the desert wilderness after their escape from slavery in Egypt. That was in roughly the 13th Century BCE. Fast forward 900 years, and the Israelites are slaves once again . . . this time in Babylon (modern day Iraq).
And from among the Hebrew slaves in Babylon, God raised up a prophet by the name of Ezekiel.
Before being carried off as a slave to Babylon in an early wave of Babylonian victory over Israel, Ezekiel had been a priest at the Temple in Jerusalem. That was 597 BCE. Five years later, Ezekiel has a vision of God in a “throne-chariot,” after which he begins to prophesy—telling the Hebrews that their demise is a result of God’s judgment for the people turning away from God. He foretells of the immanent destruction of Israel. But all hope is not lost—a remnant will return.
That’s a little of the backstory—a little bit of Ezekiel’s story. In today’s text, we read Ezekiel’s account of some of Israel’s leaders paying Ezekiel a visit, thinking maybe the prophet has a direct line to the Almighty. Ezekiel channels God’s message to them—reminding them of their people’s story from 900 years earlier—how God wrestled with the people and their idolatry and aligning with false gods. So instead of the Israelites leaving Egypt and going straight to the Promised Land, God had this to say through Ezekiel: “So I led them out of the land of Egypt and brought them into the wilderness.”
Do you think the Hebrew people loved the wilderness? No way! The scriptures tell us how they grumbled at every step:
The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the LORD’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.” (Exodus 16:3)
The Hebrew people thought they were complaining against Moses, but who were they really complaining against? God. Remember God speaking through Ezekiel? “I led them out of the land of Egypt and brought them into the wilderness.”
What do you think of this idea of God’s hand guiding the Hebrew people into the wilderness or desert? What do you think of the idea of God’s hand guiding you into the desert?
Whatever God’s role may be in our desert experiences—the suffering inherent in the human experience—I invite you to consider the opportunities that the desert presents.
As I talk about the opportunities available for us in the desert, I’d like you to think of some desert experience you’ve been through, or perhaps something you’re going through right now—some challenging situation, some sorrow or disappointment you’ve known or now know. Hold that in mind and see if what I suggest resonates as true based on your experience, as we consider just a few of the opportunities available to us in our wilderness experiences, those times in our lives when suffering is our constant companion.
The season of Lent is meant to prompt us to invite the wilderness or desert into our annual routine—a practice to help us identify with the suffering of Christ, who redeems human suffering, claiming victory in the end. To help us consider the opportunities available to us in the desert, I’ve put them in the form of an acronym: D-E-S-E-R-T.
D is for Deepen Faith. When we lose things or people or situations to which we’re attached, in the way that the Israelites lost their pots of meat when they entered the wilderness—when we can no longer lean on those things—it’s an opportunity to dismiss our inner control freak and depend on God, and in so doing we deepen our faith.
E is for Eliminate Idols. Now most of us don’t have little statues that we worship, but I dare say that all of us have idols. In the class I’m teaching during Lent, I’m inviting participants to consider the personality as a “false self”—a mask we wear that keeps us from living fully in Christ. Everyone I know has made an idol out of the “false self” (including yours truly!) The wilderness invites us to eliminate our idols.
S is for Seek Meaning. It’s easy to go through life on auto-pilot and not think too much about the deepest truths and reality. Then something happens, we find ourselves in the desert, and suddenly we’re contemplating the meaning of life. And as we enter this kind of contemplation, meaning is revealed, little by little, with every deepening step. The desert invites us to seek meaning.
E is for Embrace Solitude. The desert is a solitary experience. You haven’t suffered like me. I haven’t suffered like you. No one has. Two people can go through the same experience, yet their suffering is unique to each. Solitude is different than loneliness. Loneliness connotes isolation, while solitude implies an awareness of connection, of oneness, to God and God’s creation. In the desert, we can learn to transform loneliness into solitude (and it makes all the difference.)
R is for Restore Connection. Our daily lives are constantly screaming at us to disconnect from God and oneness. When it’s all taken from us—creature comforts, trusted companions, whatever we lean on—it’s the perfect opportunity to restore connection. Think of little JJ in the arms of his desperate mother. The desert can help us find our way into the arms of a God desperate to hold us.
T is for Trust God. When everything is taken away, we finally recognize that we have absolutely zero control. Zilch. In the desert, we have no choice but to trust God with our tomorrows. When we can do that more fully, we can be more present in each moment, which is the very place wholeness dwells. The desert can help us learn to trust God.
I’m sure there are more “desert opportunities” than I’ve considered, but I hope this is a good starting place for us.
Deepen faith.
Eliminate idols.
Seek meaning.
Embrace solitude.
Restore connection.
Trust God.
D-E-S-E-R-T. Desert.
And never forget: if God leads us into the desert, God will sustain us through the desert.
That doesn’t mean it will be easy. No, it’s never easy. But we have to go through the desert to get to the Promised Land. Like Father Richard Rohr says, in order to grow and change, we must go through “necessary suffering.” We can’t get to the Promised Land without traversing the desert.
I close by sharing a legend from the Cherokee tradition about the rite of passage into manhood. Here’s how it goes:
The boy’s father takes him into the forest, deep into the wilderness, and sits him on a stump, blindfolds him, and leaves him alone. To pass the test, the lad is required to sit on that stump all night long without removing the blindfold until the morning light shines through it. He cannot cry out for help. He must sit there, blindfolded, alone, enduring the darkness. If he survives the night, he is a man. He can’t tell the other boys about the experience, because each boy must face the same challenge on his way to manhood.
Obviously, the boy is terrified. Wouldn’t you be? In the dark, in the woods, blindfolded—the mind begins to play tricks on the boy. The wind blows through the grass and trees, the nocturnal animals hunt their prey, coyotes and wolves and bobcats make their growling, howling noises. He will surely die! But the boy must sit still, no matter what, and never remove the blindfold. This is the only way he can become a man.
Finally, after a fearful night, the sun appears. The boy is free to remove his blindfold. As he peels the cloth from his eyes, what does he see? Right there is his father sitting on a stump nearby. Without the boy knowing, his father has been there the entire night, protecting him from anything that might cause harm.[1]
Friends, on this first Sunday of Lent, into the desert we go. But we do not go alone.
[1] https://www.nrcs.usda.gov/Internet/FSE_DOCUMENTS/nrcs141p2_015565.pdf