Fruit of the desert

First Sunday of Lent, February 18, 2024

(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)

 

Fruit of the desert

The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, where he remained for forty days. Tempted by Satan. Among wild beasts. While angels ministered to him.

Yesterday we watched Daytripper, which took us this week to a small town northeast of Amarillo called Canadian, 468 miles from our home in Austin. The Canadian River borders the north side of town. Great food (of course) waited for Chet Garner, and he hurried to its side. He also spent a few hours with an inventor and helicopter pilot, finally leaning out of the copter to shoot targets down below.

All of this waits for us, too, in the desert of the northern Texas panhandle. The views were stunning. I love the rich emptiness of desert in New Mexico or Texas or Oklahoma. I can’t help but imagine Jesus two thousand years ago, if not in the Judean Wilderness, then in the land around Canadian, with it sage-covered sand hills and deep canyons.

Put to death in the flesh, he was brought to life in the Spirit. In this life he also went to preach to the spirits in prison, who had once been disobedient.

That was then, and this is now. Jesus’ forgiveness frees us from the “prison.” But my disobedience hasn’t gone anywhere. When Margaret and I have a fight, when I think it’s her fault and not my own, I quickly slip into the quicksand of guilt. Then I must decide whether to pout or ask forgiveness.

The same thing happens on the highway, where I spend a significant amount of time. A few drivers zip through traffic, or honk from behind with little reason, or just glare at everyone around them. I do my own share of glaring. I forget to check my mirrors and slide over the center line. I forget to turn off my turn signal, over and over and over.

The alternative? Henri Nouwen says it well:

Whenever, contrary to the world’s vindictiveness, we love our enemy, we exhibit something of the perfect love of God, whose will is to bring all human beings together as children of one Father. Whenever we forgive instead of getting angry at one another, bless instead of cursing one another, tend one another’s wounds instead of rubbing salt into them, hearten instead of discouraging one another, give hope instead of driving one another to despair, hug instead of harassing one another, welcome instead of cold-shouldering one another, thank instead of criticizing one another, praise instead of maligning one another . . . in short, whenever we opt for and not against one another, we make God’s unconditional love visible; we are diminishing violence and giving birth to a new community.

Try reading this aloud. Henri’s verbs create a litany of joy: love, forgive, bless, tend to, hearten, give hope, hug, welcome, thank, and praise. Do this and be made whole. And even more, do this and make the world around you whole, just a little bit.

Just a little bit more.

Clarence Heller allows us to rest in the results of loving someone (loving Margaret) day by day, for years on end:

It’s no longer about heart-shaped cards, flowers and candy.

Now it’s about how she asks me what I want for dinner,

how I enjoy doing the dishes and folding her clean underwear,

how she moves towards me before we get out of bed,

how our grandsons get so excited to see us.

Now, it’s about holding her hand as we enjoy a concert,

helping her get to and from the car,

asking and listening to how she is really feeling,

about sharing my secrets,

about learning anything I didn’t yet know about her.

 

When we plumb the depths of what is boundless,

we must travel deliberately, attentively,

with curiosity and wonder,

and the mystery there can only be revealed, not understood,

experienced, not described,

as we evolve more completely into Love, into God.

ven in our living room, we can constantly give birth to new community.

Even on the six lane highway, from here all the way to there.

(Genesis 9, Psalm 25, 1 Peter 3, Matthew 4, Mark 1)

(posted at www.davesandel.net)

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