Sometimes the walk is an
hour or two.
Sometimes it’s a whole
day.
Occasionally, my walk in
the wilderness lasts several days. I’ve even been on wilderness walks that
lasted a week.
For me, these are
essential parts of my spiritual journey.
Each of these walks in
the wilderness was planned, with a starting time and and ending time. I could
always count down the miles and the hours until I returned to civilization,
returned home, returned to my family. And I always consulted a trail map, so I
knew where I was going. I haven’t got lost yet.
Not all wilderness
journeys are like that. Certainly, not all spiritual
journeys are like that.
I say that Moses led
them; actually, it was the Spirit. In a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by
night, the Spirit of God led the people on a 40-year journey through the
wilderness.
A wilderness is a place
to clear one’s mind, to sort things out.
I guess the people of
Israel had a lot of junk in their minds that needed clearing out.
I always maintain control
of my journey when I walk in the wilderness. I wonder what it’s like to not
have that control. To not know where you are going. To not know how long it’s
going to take. To not know what challenges you might face along the way. To
feel lost, alone, abandoned…
Certainly, the wilderness
journeys in the Bible are metaphors for those times in life when we need to
sort things out, those times when we need to transition to a new beginning, let
go of the old, embrace the new.
That “letting go” can
take an awfully long time.
Those who experience this
in their lives often feel alone. Afraid. Full of doubts and questions.
And, perhaps, abandoned
by God.
There are a lot of people
in the wilderness today. Maybe you are one of them.
Does it feel that you are
on a journey of trying to make sense of the world, trying to make sense of God,
trying to figure out your purpose in life…?
And in that journey, do
you feel abandoned?
In your search for God, do
you feel alone?
On the boat ride over,
before I even started the hike, I saw something that amazes me every time I see
it: the earth’s shadow. As the sun rose in the east, I could look to the west
and see the sun’s rays bringing light to the upper atmosphere, while lower to
the earth’s surface, the shadow kept the sky a darker shade of blue. This, of
course, confirmed everything I know about the earth, the solar system – all the
discoveries of science and astronomy, the earth’s rotation and revolution
around a star that, relative to the earth, is stationary in the universe.
And I understand that the
scientific, astronomical explanation of the solar system is true, despite what
the Bible says about a three-tiered universe with domes above a flat earth, and
so on.
When my faith was less
mature, I questioned how the scientific explanation of things can exist
alongside the Biblical explanation. That questioning was a part of my
wilderness journey, my journey of faith. It took many years of questioning, of
reading, of conversing, of praying. And I’m not done yet.
But I know I can look to
science for questions about how the world works, about how the universe works.
And I know I can look to
the Bible for questions about how God works.
Science does not seek to
answer questions of faith. The Bible does not seek to answer questions of
science.
And yet, for me, each
enriches the other.
The scientific
explanation for what I witnessed – the earth’s shadow – did not reduce the awe
I feel every time I see it. It is a sight that always increases my appreciation
for God.
Often, the churches to
which they belong, the churches they are familiar with, don’t want to hear
their questions. “Don’t question God,” the churches say. “Don’t doubt. Just
believe.” People want to probe deep into the mysteries of faith, but
the church only provides simple, easy answers, and says “take it or leave
it.” But the people can’t “take it” –
they can’t just swallow it whole – but they also don’t want to “leave it.” So
they leave the church, and try to find their own way. They truly are lost in
the wilderness….
Today is Evolution
Sunday.
Evolution Sunday
(Evolution weekend, to be more
precise) is when hundreds of churches, synagogues, and other houses of worship
focus on the compatibility of science and faith. The date is chosen due to
Charles Darwin’s birthday being February 12.
The fact that, this year,
Evolution Sunday is also the first Sunday of Lent reinforces the fact that, for
so many, when it comes to reconciling the truths of science and the truths of
religion, they are still lost in the wilderness.
Each year, the organizers
of Evolution Sunday pick a theme. This year, the theme is exploring the
questions.
The church should not be
the place where you are made to leave your unanswered questions behind. God
doesn’t want you to leave your unanswered questions behind. I certainly don’t
leave my questions behind. I carry them with me. Sometimes, it’s not long before
I do have an answer. Sometimes, it’s a very
long time before the answer comes.
And some of the
questions, I don’t ever expect an answer to. But the questions themselves are
valuable. Precious.
And in the wilderness, I
am able to give them the attention they deserve…
Some of the questions I
carry around with me concern the devil. WHO or WHAT is the devil?
The Bible doesn’t present
very many answers to that question, and the answers it DOES present vary so
greatly from one another that I doubt the DEVIL from Luke’s gospel would even
recognize the DEVIL from, say, the book of Job.
What is the devil?
I read recently that Joel
Osteen never ever uses the word
“devil” in his preaching. He simply talks about “the enemy,” and let’s people
decide for themselves what that means.
Perhaps the devil is a
metaphor for our own inner wrestling, the inner voices that pull us or speak to
us one way…
Perhaps, even, the devil
is the questioner, what we would call “the devil’s advocate.” And, in debates,
the devil’s advocate is often helpful, is it not? It helps us see different
points of view, it helps us clarify our own thinking.
OK. Perhaps I should stop
saying “perhaps” so much. I’ve been told by other preachers that people don’t
want to hear a preacher share his doubts and questions, because people have
enough doubts and questions of their own. They want answers. They want
certainty.
Well, I’m certain it’s ok to have questions. I know that questions are an important
part of faith. I have no doubt that God is present in our questions and doubts.
In all our questioning,
in all our doubts, in all our times out in the wilderness, where we think we
are alone and abandoned, God’s spirit is present.
The Spirit’s presence is
something I’ve been noticing a lot in our scripture readings these past few
weeks. The Spirit is mentioned so often that it seems downright redundant. Have
you noticed?
Less than a month ago, we
had the story of Jesus’s baptism: “When Jesus was baptized, the Holy Spirit
descended upon him…”
Then we had Jesus in the
synagogue: “Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, went into the
synagogue, and read from the prophet Isaiah: ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon
me.’”
Now, today, we have: “Jesus,
full of the Holy Spirit, was led by the Spirit in the wilderness…”
According to the church
calendar, the focus on the Spirit isn’t supposed to happen until Pentecost. But
the Spirit is EVERYWHERE.
Even in the wilderness,
where there are no roads, where the questions abound, where science mixes with
faith, where the destination is unclear, the path uncertain, when you feel
alone and abandoned…
The Spirit is there.
In the questions.
In the uncertainty….
Here’s what I want you to
do this Lent.
And just listen.
Listen for the questions.
Listen for the Spirit.
Mother Theresa was once
asked about her prayer life. We know, from her writings, that she had many
doubts and questions, that she often
felt alone in the spiritual wilderness.
The interviewer asked
Mother Teresa, “When you pray, what do you say to God?”
Mother Teresa replied, “I
don’t talk, I simply listen.”
Believing he understood
what she meant, the interviewer said, “Ah, then what is it that God says to you
when you pray?”
Mother Teresa replied,
“He also doesn’t talk. He also simply listens.”
After a moment of
confused silence, she added, “I’m sorry if you don’t understand, but I can’t
explain it any better.”
Mystery is always a core
part of a life of faith. Science is fascinating. Science searches for answers,
and there is much truth in those answers.
But faith embraces
mystery. And there is much truth in that as well.
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