The Desert

Matthew 4:1-11
Next Jesus was taken into the wild by the Spirit for the Test. The Devil was ready to give it. Jesus prepared for the Test by fasting forty days and forty nights. That left him, of course, in a state of extreme hunger, which the Devil took advantage of in the first test: "Since you are God's Son, speak the word that will turn these stones into loaves of bread." Jesus answered by quoting Deuteronomy: "It takes more than bread to stay alive. It takes a steady stream of words from God's mouth." For the second test the Devil took him to the Holy City. He sat him on top of the Temple and said, "Since you are God's Son, jump." The Devil goaded him by quoting Psalm 91: "He has placed you in the care of angels. They will catch you so that you won't so much as stub your toe on a stone." Jesus countered with another citation from Deuteronomy: "Don't you dare test the Lord your God." For the third test, the Devil took him on the peak of a huge mountain. He gestured expansively, pointing out all the earth's kingdoms, how glorious they all were. Then he said, "They're yours - lock, stock, and barrel. Just go down on your knees and worship me, and they're yours." Jesus' refusal was curt: "Beat it, Satan!" He backed his rebuke with a third quotation from Deuteronomy: "Worship the Lord your God, and only him. Serve him with absolute single-heartedness." The Test was over. The Devil left. And in his place, angels! Angels came and took care of Jesus' needs. Teaching and Healing. (MSG)



Have you ever been in a spiritual desert?



I actually live in a physical desert.



In the summer Phoenix is unbelievably hot and dry.



But we have air conditioning and swimming pools and water parks.



Probably living in Phoenix is not a completely accurate picture of what a desert would feel like.



Maybe if I spent the summer on the outskirts of town in a little un-air conditioned hut with no electricity or running water.



No grocery stores.



No neighbors.



No movie theaters.



No restaurants.



That seems like a better picture.



Hot.



Unbearable.



Distracting.



Overwhelming.



Lonely.



Scary.



Now throw hunger into that and I don't know if I would survive.



Add the devil trying to lure me into comfort and I might cave or lose my mind.



However, internally, I am in a spiritual desert.



I want to fall back so bad!



I want to give in to the longing to just sleep or watch 1,000 hours of television.



I want to be mean and cranky.



I want to be left alone while I try to cling to the hem of the robe of my King.



I am in this desert because God is leading me into a new place.



I can see just enough of the joy ahead to keep me pressing forward.



And I WANT joy.



I want it so badly I can practically taste it.



Joy is the carrot on the stick.



It is dangling in front of me and I am scrambling over rocks and cactus and javalinas to get to it!



But the desert is not for frantic wandering.



A spiritual desert is for solitude. It is for connection.



Henri Nowen says that the desert is the place of the great struggle and of the great encounter.



A spiritual desert brings death to what has kept us from life.



And joy isn't bouncing around on a string in the horizon.



Joy is the wave of summer rain that bursts from the clouds the moment I have set myself aside and allowed God to establish his throne in my life.



So.



I'm in the desert.



But the desert doesn't seem so harsh anymore.

Really?

So I guess it's safe to say that when God is teaching me something, he is REALLY teaching me something.

After teaching another holy yoga class on Matthew 5:3 this morning, this is what my day looked like.

I came home and the new puppies had peed in their crate and completely demolished one of their food bowls.

Needless to say they were covered in pee and little turquoise chunks of plastic.

I put them outside and left them there. I was seriously going to have to give them a BATH and I did NOT want to get all wet and stinky with them.

After the kids had a nap, I put the dogs back in the crate (and this time put the crate on the tile because I am a slow learner) and we headed to Ross.

In the fitting room at Ross Judah fell off of the bench and hit his head.

Now this boy hits his head more than any other kid I have ever known. It might be because he has a massive skull. It is seriously huge.

However, THIS time he walked away with the biggest goose egg of all time.

He was crying.

I was shirtless.

And I was watching this thing swell on his forehead.

Someone called the manager for me and they brought him an ice pack.

I managed a super mommy move and put on my shirt while holding him.

I'll be honest, I was a little impressed with my skills.

After Judah was done crying for his daddy, we went to the pet aisle and bought two CERAMIC bowls that cannot be chewed apart.

As we finished our errands I started to feel my spirit sink down into a really heavy place.

We came home and I gave the dogs a bath, cleaned the bathroom, gave the kids a bath, fed the dogs and kids and put Judah to bed.

Now, I am the kind of weary that makes soldiers fall back.

I am so at the end of myself.

And that is how I know that God is in this.

He's already pressed his words into my heart.

He's already made me hunger for more of him by stripping away more of me.

So, now that I am, yet again, at the very end of myself...

I can say that I am blessed.

It doesn't make me magically happy or refreshed.

I'm still weary.

But I can set my weary heart at the feet of Jesus and find rest.

So, tonight, after I clean dog pee out of the carpet (as I'm sure I will need to), put Aravis to bed, fold a mountain of laundry and vacuum dog hair off of the floor, I will be thankful that I am held in the hands of God.

Otherwise, it would be too much.

Yesterday

Yesterday was sort of an anniversary for me.







Every year, around the beginning of February, I start to feel a little numb.







It's like Novocaine in my soul.







I simply cease to feel for about a week.







Yesterday was February 8th. I could say that it was 6 years since I tried to kill myself.







But I look back and can fully see that yesterday was 6 years since I encountered the rescuing hands of Jesus.







It's not just that he rescued me from a physical death, although he did.







It's more that he rescued me from the death of my spirit and of my heart.







So, now that the day has passed, and my numbness with it, I am looking back with gratitude.







If I had had my way, seeing only what I could see, I would have missed out on so much beauty and joy.







If the darkness of that time had won, I would have missed the brilliant light of the life that came after.







The Spirit of God picked me up out of the valley of the shadow of death and set me on a road paved with hope.







Let me just say that my life has been hard since that day; it's not that things got magically happier. I didn't just bounce away from attempted suicide with a smile on my face.







And even after I got married and had babies, it's not that I never felt sadness or hopelessness again.







But, because of the powerful hands of God, touching by body and searing my heart, I am free.







The painful sense of being lost, that had followed me my whole life, disappeared on February 8th.







In it's place came the tangible presence of God.







This brings me back to my last post.







"You are blessed when you are at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule."







I want to think that when Jesus spoke those words for the first time he was looking right into my eyes.







Since God is outside of time and space, I want to imagine that time melted away and in that moment, he was placing his hands on me, speaking straight to my burning heart.







I'm sure that there are millions of human beings who want to believe the same thing.







And I am also sure that we all can.





Maybe yesterday was more than an anniversary.




Maybe yesterday was my reminder to live.




To hope.




To love.




And to surrender.

Maybe yesterday was my own Passover.

My own reminder of my own Exodus.

The End Of My Rope

"You are blessed when you come to the end of your rope. When there is less of you there is more of God and his rule."

Matthew 5:3 (MSG)

I'm sitting in bed listening to my daughter's raspy breathing.

She has croup and nighttime is the worst.

Her inhales almost sound like she might gag.

Her exhales are shallow.

Every now and then she talks in her sleep and her voice is so hoarse it doesn't even sound like her.

Sometimes she starts to cough.

And it breaks my heart.

My 1 year old son is in the pack n play at the end of the room.

He's just started coughing today.

His breathing is even, but grating.

Just like in life, he is following his sister's lead.

He is headed straight to that barking cough.

Needless to say, things are kind of miserable in our house right now.

Joe is out of town for work.

The kids are sick.

And I am still reeling from the past few weeks.

At around 5pm I find myself unraveling.

I reach the end of my rope and I want to just sit down and let my hands fall open, spilling everything I am balancing onto the concrete.

But I don't.

As of yesterday, I have a new perspective.

When I come to the end of my rope, I take a very deep breath (yoga breath comes in handy here), and I remind myself that there is less of me and more of God.

I can be blessed here.

I can be changed.

I can step aside and let the sweet, cool, refreshing Spirit course through me.

I can find strength in letting go of me.

I can just whisper, "Yep. I've come to the end of me. It's all you, Jesus."

The challenging part is to follow through.

But, sitting here listening to my children try to sleep, I am even more convinced that my only option is to step back.

I could choose to be a victim; to demand justice for my circumstances.

I could decide that God just doesn't listen to me and my life is just too much.

It's my choice how I view my world.

It's my choice to either let go of my rope (since I've come to the end of it anyway), or to try to grip the frayed ends and demand that it magically grow longer to sustain me.

Hmmmm...

I am blessed here.