But the Wilderness Is So Nice

I just looked at the Lent calendar and realized how close Easter is.

My first thought should have been getting excited about eating brownies made from scratch again.  But it wasn't -- that was the second.

My first thought was, "I don't want it to be over already."

Beginning before Lent, I began seeking God in a more open and direct way.  But during this Lent season, my daily devotionals, my meditating, praying, and scripture reading have increased to almost be where I'd like them to be.  Many mornings have skipped my viewing of "The Daily Show," and instead read or listened to teachings of faith. 

In addition, my relationship with Angela has reached a new sincerity that my own sin and selfishness and fear prevented.  It has certainly been tough.  Opening to Angela and remaining honest is not something I'm good at.  In fact, the only reason I used to be open to Angela or anyone else was to share "just enough" to appear open and honest.  Only through God's grace and mercy and Angela's, have we come to a point where joy is always near even in times of hurt.

I wonder how Jesus felt.

I'm not sure when God revealed to Jesus the path to death.  He probably knew it all along.  In the wilderness, though, he wasn't going to die.  Jesus was tempted in major ways, but he knew he wasn't going to die there.  In Matthew, after the temptations, it says, "Angels came and were ministering to him" (4:17 ESV).  That must have been a wonderful experience.

So wonderful that I would have been tempted to stay.  What if that was the last temptation Jesus faced in the wilderness:  Just stay and be fed spiritually and intellectually. 

That's where I am right now.  Sure I want desserts, but my connections with God is such that I don't ever need something sweet again (I know I never did -- I just always wanted it). 

More than dessert, I'm scared about what will happen with this connection that is so strong.  And even if it continues until we leave Thailand, how can we keep close contact with God when life in America tries to get in the way again?

I really like the part of Fireproof when she asks what day he's on, and he says, "43. . . . Who says I have to stop?"  That's the complete truth. 

There are 40 days of the Lenten season.  But once it's over, who says I have to stop?

Each day is a new day, and each day I continue to seek God.  Luke tells us that when he left the wilderness, "Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit" (4:14 ESV).  Each day we are seeking to be filled with the Spirit.

One day at a time.

We don't know how to confess anymore

As I continue to realign myself with God during Lent, I continue to recognize how broken and misled I am.  I have created an image of a man who seeks God, but in fact have become a man who seeks this image rather than seeking God.  In other words, I have a heart that would make me God rather than seeking the true God.

I've been reading Dallas Willard's Renovation of the Heart (or here).  It has been speaking powerfully to me about who I am.  As I continue to share and confess to others, I desire to do it right.  Here is an excerpt (pp. 59-60):

The Necessity of Remorse

To prosecutors and judges in our court system, as well as to people in ordinary situations of life, it still matters greatly whether wrongdoers show signs of remorse or seem to be truly sorry for what they have done.  Why is that?  It is because Genuine remorse tells us something very deep about the individual.  The person who can harm others and feel no remorse is, indeed, a different kind of person from the one who is sorry.  There is little hope for genuine change in one who is without remorse, without the anguish of regret.

Much of what is called Christian profession today involves no remorse or sorrow at all over who one is or even for what one has done.  There is little awareness of being lost or of a radical evil in our hearts, bodies, and souls -- which we must get away from and from which only God can deliever us.  To manifest such awareness today would be regarded -- and certainly by most Christians as well -- as psychologically sick.  It is common today to hear Christians talk of there "brokenness."  But when you listen closely, you may discover that they are talking about their wounds, the things they have suffered, not about the evil that is in them.

Few today have discovered that they have been disastrously wrong and that they cannot change or escape the consequences of it on their own.  There is little sense of "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts" (Isaiah 6:5, KJV).

Yet, without this realization of our utter ruin and without the genuine revisioning and redirecting of our lives, which that bitter realization naturally gives rise to, no clear path to inner transformation can be found.  It is psychologically and spiritually impossible.  We will steadfastly remain on the throne of our universe, so far as we are concerned, perhaps trying to "use a little God" here and there . . . .

As my confession grows, I expect ruin.  It is only by the grace of God that I am saved.  Not by my hand, nor by any others.  It may cost me my life, but I am guilty and should expect no less.

My journey through the wilderness continues.