Love in the Desert

Have you ever reunited with a long lost friend or relative, and found your heart full of love for them? What a joy it is to realize in that moment  how much this person means to you. It is a lesson to be learned. You may not have realized it before; the person was in your life daily and you took it for granted that they would always be there. I have a friend who has moved across country. When I get to see her, it is like being with a sister. Although time and distance have kept us apart, our mutual love and respect have only grown deeper. We cherish hearing each other's stories, relishing each word, imagine the scenes, and drink it all in. These friends mean so much to us. My uncle, whom I saw rarely, was a balm to my soul. Sitting with him in conversation was like settling in with your best pal.

When things are removed from us, and we finally get used to living without the person or item, reuniting with them is sweet. Finding a lost ring or a keepsake you once gave up ever finding again gives us a moment of unexpected joy.
In the desert, we are stripped of former relationships, we are made to give up favorite activities and favorite things, and we experience loss. But we adapt to this state, finding new joys in simple things, focusing on the minutiae, relying more and more on discipline and duty for sustenance rather than experiencing the wellspring of joy that the Lord bestows on His faithful. We experience God in new ways; perhaps more rarely, but more sweetly.
John the Baptist, the unborn child, leaped in his mother Elizabeth's womb when Mary, who was pregnant with Jesus, came into her cousin's house. John recognized the Son of God, causing Elizabeth to exclaim words of joy, for he had not moved yet in her womb. That is what it is like to find Jesus. You recognize Him, though you had never known Him. He is like a long lost friend, the one you lost or left behind years before, whose presence brings answers to every quest, fulfillment to every dream, and solutions to every riddle. Furthermore, Jesus endows the truth of deep meaning and purpose upon your life. Finding Him is innocence reborn; one is given a second chance at life; and everything is new because the the kingdom of God becomes visible all around you.

Desert Flowers

In alluding to the loneliness that one experiences in the desert, one might ask, “Loneliness? Whom do you miss? Whom do you need? Why do you need them? Is not God everywhere? It is here that He may possibly be found!”
I think a better term for the experience of the solitary life is alone-ness, not loneliness. The solitary life, whether spent alone or among people, is a life of learning to be content in all circumstances. The barren scape of the desert does not necessarily attract. It more likely repels. It is not visually appealing, nor are there other distractions to take up one’s time such as are found in the peopled world. Many people run from the desert, but the pilgrim learns to embrace it. The pilgrim purveys the landscape, searching and searching: a whirlwind miles away, a lone coyote, a delicate spot of color. He seeks something else, turning his eyes from the colorless void to the prayer book in his hands. He lowers his gaze to the small yellow bloom emerging on the spiny nest of the barrel cactus.  He appreciates the fractaled, unpredictable shape of a branchy cholla. It is not pretty here, it is not ordered, nor is it comfortable. But perhaps it can become so.

To be alive, to be breathing, to be able to make choices no matter where you are placed: what a concept! Moreso, what gifts has God bestowed upon this place? What particular gift has He given you in this place? Can we take time to find out?

The desert produces exquisite flowers, but few people ever see them. Blessed are you if you do see them.

Digging the Well

So it seemed I was asked to dig a well in my return to the desert. I was to seek sustenance inwardly, dig a well deep in my soul that would be a conduit for the Holy Spirit who would replenish me when there was little spiritual food around. This is what I thought. The desert is dry, hot, dusty, full of prickly things, devoid of sustenance, of people, of life. Its expanse of space may occasionally be interrupted by mountains devoid of vegetation. There is little stimulation for the eye or for the palate. The desert is empty, windblown and gritty. I was to dig a well in order to be sustained.

The spiritual desert can be any variation of the deserts of the world: sage-strewn hills dotted with cacti, rabbit brush, and chola, or vast vistages of lifeless dunes, uninviting, slippery-sloped, and very dangerous. Initially the spiritual desert does not come into your life to comfort, fulfill, inspire you, although these are some of the wonderful outcomes of desert life. No, the desert keeps its distance in mystery. One enters the desert with trepidation and only as a result of being drawn or called there. Most seekers avoid it, and prefer the plains or the shore, where food for the body as well as the soul is abundant. One does not ask for the desert, but goes there out of obedience when asked. And seekers who wish to obey will go there.

The desert was pervasive in the writings of the Jews and early Christians. It seems everyone who ever played a role in the history of the Jews went to the desert: even Mary and Joseph fled to Egypt with their newborn child to escape Herod. Likewise, our own spiritual journeys often pass through the desert. So if the desert is a harsh place, why do seekers go there? Or why do they allow themselves to be taken there? Why did Jesus go there for forty days and perhaps longer in those hidden years? Here are some possible answers: We go to the desert

1. Unwittingly, in innocence and obedience
2. To be alone without distraction
3. To be tested, or to test ourselves
4. To manifest our promise to God to leave the world and join completely to Him.
5. To pray and suffer for the world's salvation
6. To discover ourselves and God
7. In search of simplicity: to be stripped of all that encumbers a person in his journey with God.

It is obvious that some of these reasons are not choices one would knowlingly make, and all of these reasons are things most pilgrims go through at some time in their life. One doesn't choose to place himself on the road of suffering. One doesn't say to God, "I am ready, test me!"  Believers are taken there, drawn there, or choose to go to the desert to escape the cluttered world. They desire to have God only in their lives. They want to simplify in order to go deeper. As a result, many suffer because the desert is not an easy road. Deep suffering can take place as one experiences loneliness, abandonment, or, the most frightening of all, facing oneself honestly, without excuses.  Often the desert is the place where one lives with physical affliction. Many of our neighbors certainly live desert lives. The test comes when in these difficult times, one is tempted to betray God, or to turn from Him in self-pity, rebellion, or despair.

However, the desert is not just about these spare experiences. Desert pilgrims experience great joy at times, as they discover oases of water in the form of consolations of the Holy Spirit, as they take nourishment from the Holy Eucharist and from the Word, and as they journey with Him.
Therefore, another reason we go to the desert is:

6. To walk in the unutterable joy of God's presence.

What else strips us but suffering? Pain, sorrow, disenchantment, loneliness, doubt, fear, so many things cause us to want to escape, change direction, and finally, hopefully, search ourselves. But what else gives great delight? Knowing that in our suffering we are communing with the Holy One, basking in His light and love, and being filled with the gift of the Holy Spirit. When we are alone with God there is no one else on whom we can rely. We cannot project our misery or blame on anyone else, not our parents, our spouse, nor our society. We have only God. In the kingdom, one's journey is with God. We are separated, we have given all to God, and we must study ourselves from within. We must dig a well.

Desert Bloom

"Desert Bloom" is an important painting to me, one I've kept, one I will not sell or give away. Its title refers to teachings I've had that the Christian life is a journey, and it is a journey through dry desert. These teachings began with the scripture, Psalms 84.5-7, which was given to me nearly 25 years ago in Brookings, Oregon. By given to me I mean that when I first heard or read it, (I don't recall), it resonated deeply within me, stayed with me, intrigued me, and would not leave me until I had claimed it as my own. Here it is:


"Blessed are those whose hearts are on pilgrimage; in whose hearts are the highways to Zion... As they go through the Valley of Baca, they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength until they reach Zion. "


Psalms 84 taught me the ancient and important lesson that my life as a Christian was to be a pilgrimage through the desert. This was something I did not comprehend at first. I preferred the thought that my Christian walk would be a pleasant, romantic journey with Christ, to the fact that this pilgrimage would be something out of my control, and sometimes lonely and difficult. I learned soon after the scripture was given to me that I was not going to be living out my days on my beloved seacoast, near my extended family, in a larger community vibrant with artists, culture, with the opportunities to walk on beautiful empty beaches and enjoy the charm of bright-lighted crab boats leaving the harbor on dark winter mornings. Instead, the wilds of Eastern Oregon, where sagebrush and buckskin hills dominated the dry landscape, beckoned us... back.


Before coming to Brookings we had lived and taught in Eastern Oregon for six years. My first years there were to be a recovery from the spiritual desolation and confusion of the sixties. I was plopped down among richly intelligent and devoted Christian women, who led me in power-filled ways to Christ. I grew in the Lord, we had two beautiful little girls to go along with our son, enjoyed wonderful friends and the beauty of our valley. But as is very common in small towns, I became increasingly busy with prayer groups, church, teaching, and the children. In fact, the joy I had felt in the Lord the first couple of years waned as duties took over my life, my prayer life lessened, and the churches there failed to give me any answers. Week after week it was "ye must be saved.." I prayed desperately for change. And thank the Lord, it came. The summer of 1981, when our youngest child was 18 months old, we suddenly found ourselves with a teaching job on the Oregon Coast, in Brookings, land of fog and sun, cool moist air, and the constant crashing of surf. Water and sustenance were everywhere, but especially in my spiritual life. Through wonderful teacher-friends and spiritual directors, I discovered the ancient writings of the church, and help for living in the world as a Christian. I began to realize that the Christian life is not that of arriving in a particular place when we are "saved," but it is a pilgrimage, a journey of growth in God as one is gradually stripped of self while increasing one's identity in Christ. Psalm 84's words taught me that life is about journeying from strength to strength until we reach Zion... we experience times of hardship and suffering, and times in the high places, growing and strengthening in our faith, with God always at our side.

Three years later, as if the Lord had prepared me, and He did, we moved back to the desert of Eastern Oregon, where the schools were less tumultuous and our jobs more secure. I struggled with having to move back to a place I really did not want to be. However, though I was fearful I would slip back into a brand of Christianity I had grown out of, I nevertheless agreed to go back, for practical reasons, and for my husband's sanity. I focused on fighting negativity with exercise, prayer, keeping my house and my kids in order, and searching for a church and other Christians who might be sympatico with my new perspective.

About two months after the move, I walked down to the local Assembly church where a revival of sorts was going on. It was a weekday evening, and in the small town of 300, few people were in attendance; in fact, I am sure there were no more than 10 people there. I sat tentatively by myself in one of the back rows, somewhat resigned to the fact that I was about to hear another hellfire speech about the need to be saved, especially when I learned that the traveling preacher was a truck driver from Vancouver BC. Yes, I was prejudiced, but I shouldn't have been. This simple, faithful man stood at the mike, surveyed his dutiful audience, and proceeded to speak words I will never forget. "Hello, my name is ___________ and tonight I am going to speak on Psalms 84 verses 5 and 6."


My jaw did literally drop. I choked back a gasp; my heart swelled.... In the humble little church in the small isolated community I had returned to, in sad resignation for having been "girded with loincloth and taken where I did not want to go," God used that man to give me a message. I was not forgotten. I was not left behind... I was planted again in the desert, yes, but Jesus, my Lord, was still with me, in fact, had prepared a place for me there.
And so you know what that wonderful man spoke about that night? This was his message: "When you find yourself in the desert, dig a well."

Hubble in Space

I have thought often of this forthcoming God. He is like light, ever coming, ever emitting himself. The Hubble Space telescope, recently worked on by several astronauts so that it will continue producing photographs for another five years, has given us glimpses of light coming across many billions of miles to our eyes. A new telescope will be put into space at the end of Hubble‘s usefulness, and it will be placed one million miles from earth. Its visual clarity should be greatly improved over even the Hubble’s, since its placement will be so far from earth’s distorting atmosphere. One scientist said the taking of these photographs through telescopes is like time travel, and the telescopes are like the time travelers. It is expected that light, billions of years old, will be recorded by the new space telescope. That light, which has traveled at 186,000 miles per second for these billions of years, is light that was emitted near the what is thought to be the origin of the universe. Perhaps light from the original theoretical “big bang” will be measured. Needless to say, these ideas are mind-boggling. Much of what we see in space may not even be there any more, but it is useless to conjecture, since it is impossible to apprehend what is happening so many light years away. It is as if space must bend back on itself in order to accommodate these huge expanses of time and distance. Perhaps what happened 6 billion years ago is not so far away from us in time and space., and we are fooled into thinking that what occurred billions of years ago is occurring at this time also. Kind of reminds you of heaven… everything is in the now… time is no longer existent. It is suspended in light.