Ordinarily Radical

"Make a snake and put it on a pole; anyone who is bitten can look at it and live." Numbers 21:6

Ordinarily Radical
By Rev. William Dohle

Did you know that even the most radically different ideas, if repeated enough times, will become common place? It's true! Studies have shown that when people are exposed to things over and over again, whatever that thing is loses its newness and radical nature.

It happened with music. The music that was considered "radical" in the 1960's are "classics" today. The messages they carried have been lost, not because they suddenly disappeared, but because they've been repeated so many times. The words that were once sung in protest are now sung to remember. The edges are gone, replaced by nostalgia.

Think about the song "Turn" by the birds. Pretty tame song, huh? "To everything, turn turn turn, there is a season...turn turn turn..."
It's actually a pretty good song to celebrate Ecclesiastes 3! As Yoda would say, "straight out of the Bible the words are!"

But if you listen closely to how this song ends, you can discover its radical message.

"A time for peace...I swear its not too late!"

That's not what the Bible says. In Ecclesiastes 3 it says, "A time for war. A Time for peace."

The song writer has reinterpreted the text to focus on that time of peace because THAT'S what his song is all about! It's a song calling for peace and saying, "Just as there's a time for every other season, there's a time for peace. And it is now!"

The same can happen in biblical interpretation too. The older an idea or an interpretation is, the less "radical" it seems. Only by digging through the texts and putting those ideas into words we understand today can we reclaim the radical words of God.

So it is with the image of Jesus as the "snake on a pole." The Gospel of John interprets this passage in Numbers that speaks of Moses lifting up a snake in the wilderness to heal the people as Christ. John writes: "Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life."(John 3:14-15)

That's radical stuff! Really radical!

And yet we've been trained to see it that way. Christians since we can read have had this verse and this chapter drilled into us. It's become...nostalgic!


Christians usually sentimentalize Christ. Christ is perfect in every way. Christ is flawless. Christ is the light of the world. Christ is everything good.

But Christ as the snake on the pole makes Christ into the very thing that is killing us! Christ is sin itself! Christ isn't meek and mild. He's not the perfectly white, clean looking guy we've got posted up in our churches today. He's Sin incarnate! The very creature, ugly and disgusting, that is poisoning us is hanging on a cross. And we are granted eternal life when we stop and gaze upon this Sin! Looking upon Christ on the cross, Christ as sin, grants us forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation.

That's what Jesus in the book of John is saying. That's what Jesus says later in John when he says, "...and I when I am lifted up will draw all people to myself."(John 12:32)

Paul caught this. In his second letter to Corinth he writes: "God made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."(2 Cor. 5:21)

I have this same sentiment hanging in my office: "Christ and I stood side by side. He in his white robes, I in my rags. Christ said, "Let's exchange.  You put on my robes and I'll wear your rags." So we exchanged."

Christ is wearing our rags. Christ is bearing our pain and guilt and shame. Christ is dirty and disgusting and sinful for us. Christ has borne those things for us and in him we become light and clean and holy and righteous. In him we have life!

That's the radical message of this "snake on a pole." That's the radical image of the cross. Without that radical word, the true offensive message of Christ is lost. Without it, Christ becomes just a nice guy with a group of children sitting on his knees amid a group of grumpy men. Without it, the gospel loses its power to truly save and transform lives.

May we not forget, as lent approaches in the coming weeks and as we gaze once again on the cross in wonder, that this message is foolish and radical. May we not forget the message that the cross still speaks to the world of good and bad people. The one who was perfect from the beginning has made himself Sin incarnate for us that in him we might become the righteous of God!

Gracious Father, as we gaze upon Christ may we know the mystery that is your incarnation that through you becoming dirty, we might be clean. Amen.

They're Still Here!

“Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” Numbers 21:8

They're Still Here!
By Rev. William Dohle

Imagine, for a moment, that you had to hire an exterminator for an infestation of scorpions in your apartment. Those dreadful little monsters with their frightening appearance and their poisonous sting. (Those of you in the midwest might not realize that this is a REAL problem in the southwest...like Arizona!) The exterminator comes with all of his equipment, checks out your place. Then, this is what he says...

"Yup! You've got a problem!"
"I know! It's terrible!" you say.
"Yup." he says simply.
"So, what are you going to do about it?"
"Well..." he muses. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" you shout. "But can't you kill them?"
"I could," he says. "But I'm not going to."
"Okay..." you say.
"Instead I'm going to give you this anti-venom. Whenever a scorpion stings you, just take this anti-venom and you'll be okay."

Sound absurd, right? Totally crazy?
But this is what happens in this story from the book of Numbers.

Once again the people of Israel are stranded out in the desert. And once again they're complaining.
"The people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.”(21:5)

God tires of their complaining AGAIN so, Numbers tells us, "Then the Lord sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died."(21:6)

Pretty harsh punishment for complaining, huh? (No wonder people keep most of their complaints to themselves. If they knew this story, they'd be afraid!)

So the people repent. They now know they've been wrong. "The people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people."(21:7)

Pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us. Sounds reasonable, right? After all, the people did repent. God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. Surely he'll listen and like a great divine exterminator rid the people of Israel of this dreadful curse.

But no. He doesn't. Instead, this is what Moses is instructed to do.
"And the Lord said to Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live."(21:8-9)

God doesn't remove the serpents or kill them. He doesn't get rid of the pest problem the Israelites now have. Instead, God provides an antidote for them. An anti-venom. All they need to do is take it(look at the serpent of bronze) and then they'll be okay.

That's the story...
Now, there are many interpretations of this story. One Christians are most familiar with. The New Testament(particularly the gospel of John) interprets this passage and focuses on the bronze serpent.
" And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up,  that whoever believes in him may have eternal life."(John 3:14-15)

In doing so, the Gospel of John likens Jesus lifted up on the cross to the bronze serpent that everyone who looks upon him and believes may have life. This passage becomes one of many prophecies to Jesus and what will happen to him on the cross.

That's how Christians are use to hearing this story. But here's my question...and one I've never heard asked or wrestled with.
Why doesn't God remove the serpents in the first place?

It seems kinda odd to me that Moses is instructed to make a bronze serpent and set it on a staff and tell the people to look upon it when they get bit to live. Wouldn't it have been easier to just get rid of the snakes like they prayed would happen to begin with? After all, they weren't there in the beginning! They were sent by God as a punishment for Israel's disobedience and when Israel repented, surely those snakes could have been dealt with. Why would God provide such an odd anti-venom with no end to the trouble at hand? Why not just dispose of the snakes?

Well maybe, just maybe, the ever-present serpents' presence in the story has an even greater meaning. Maybe it speaks to life today.

We have, among us, the same serpents that we've always had. Hatred abounds in our world. One people is set against another people. Military occupations abound. Wars are everywhere. Intolerance is everywhere. In a way, you could say, we haven't really changed much since the times of Moses. People do just what they did back then. Those pesky serpents are still among us. Still biting us and poisoning our lives. And we still need to look to God to rid us of their poison.

But there's something else here too. A solution to the serpent problem that isn't spoken about in the text itself but might be implicitly there. Maybe instead of living with these snakes and dealing with their constant biting presence, maybe the people are being implicitly told to kill them themselves.

Maybe God is saying: "I'll provide you with the anti-venom. You won't die. Gaze upon me and you will live. But getting rid of the snakes is your problem. I know you can do it. I'll remedy its poison, so it doesn't darken your life, but as long as you just stand there, those serpents will always be a problem for you."

And so God sets the task of exterminating the serpents to us and gives us the strength to deal with their poison. And it has happened. The serpents of this world have met an end by the hands of ordinary people. An ordinary businessman, Oscar Schindler, worked to kill the serpents of hatred and save over a thousand Jews from the hands of the Nazis. A simple nun, Mother Theresa worked to kill the serpents of poverty in the streets of Calcutta. Another businessman, this time a Jew, Steve Maman, is working to free sex slaves of ISIS one girl at a time.

And the list goes on and on.

We are called, each and every one of us, to cut off the head of the serpents at our feet. To kill the hatred and the bitterness, the war and the violence, the pride and the selfishness that we see. To do our part at changing the world for the better. The task seems impossible. Those pesky serpents aren't easy to kill and sometimes have a hard time staying dead. There's more snakes then you can possibly kill alone too. But together, and with God's help and strength, we might rid the world of the snakes around us, work against the poison of this plague and finally live in peace with one another.

Holy God, thank you for providing an antidote to the problem of our serpents. Give us strength to face down our snakes, to fight against hatred and violence and all the rest of the serpents that nip at our heels. Amen.

A Letter to Aaron

Then the Lord said to Moses and Aaron at Mount Hor, on the border of the land of Edom,  “Let Aaron be gathered to his people. For he shall not enter the land that I have given to the Israelites, because you rebelled against my command at the waters of Meribah. Take Aaron and his son Eleazar, and bring them up Mount Hor; strip Aaron of his vestments, and put them on his son Eleazar. But Aaron shall be gathered to his people, and shall die there.” Numbers 20:23-26

A Letter To Aaron
By Rev. William Dohle

Dear Aaron,

You don't know me, but I follow in your footsteps. You see, I too serve God's people as a priest. I'm not Jewish. I'm Christian. And they don't call us priests, but pastors, but basically they're the same thing. We are spiritual leaders of God's people, the same as you.

As a spiritual leader I have faced many of the same temptations as you did. I have been tempted to adapt my message and please my audience, as you did at Sinai when you made the golden calf. I have been tempted to denigrate those in authority over me, as you did to Moses when you spoke against him and sided with Mirium. And I have been tempted to disobey God's command, as you did at the waters of Meribah.

Not only have I been tempted, Aaron, but I've fallen into those same traps. I have adapted my message, sometimes on the fly during a sermon, and refrained from saying something that I knew might make someone upset. I have made for myself and others "golden calfs", physical signs of God's presence to bow down and worship instead of trusting in the mysterious presence of God. I too have spoken against those above me, knowingly and unknowingly. And I too have disobeyed God's commandment to trust.

I have failed just as you did, Aaron. I am wrong. I need forgiveness.

And reading your story gets me worried. You see, Aaron, people haven't changed in the thousands of years that have passed since you walked the earth. They're just as stubborn as they were in the wilderness. For many people, their pursuit of God takes a backseat to everything else going on in their lives. I know because they've told me so. They'd rather party with the golden calf than wait patiently below the mountain for a word that may never come.

People today remember things falsely too, thinking as your people did that things were so much better in the past. Looking with rose colored glasses at all the pain and suffering that they endured back then, they forget the present and concentrate on the past.

You stood up to that. You stood up for years in the midst of your people, proclaiming God's love and redemption and presence among them. You lived with people whose priorities are so much like the people I know. And I'm worried that, just as you were remembered at the end of your life, not for the good you did, but for your mistake at the waters of Meribah, so I too may be remembered by my mistakes and not for the good I do.

Aaron, I have no idea how many times you succeeded and how many good sermons you gave your people in the wilderness. I don't know how much you loved and cared for them. I don't know much of the good you did. But I know your mistakes. Those are the things we remember. Those are the things written down for us.

Sadly, at the end of your life, your time with Moses before Pharaoh was forgotten. It was your mistake at Meribah they remembered. It was for this reason God prevented you from entering into the Promised Land.

I'll never see that promised land either, I'm afraid. I'll stand on the mountain of life and pass on the mantle of leadership to another. I'll never see the promised land for myself, for I am a product of my own generation and my own time. Neither you, nor Moses, ever passed into the Promised Land. Maybe it was because of your mistake at Meribah. Maybe you always kicked yourself for what transpired there. Or maybe it was because you were a product of your own time and the promised land, being promised and not fulfilled, is always for another.

In any case, though I know God forgave me and has forgiven you for your mistakes, I still wonder: How will I be remembered? What will this people, still stubborn yet blessed and precious in God's sight, think of me when I pass on?

And do they worry about that? Do they wonder how they'll be remembered? Are they, at times, nervous or scared to make mistakes fearing that those mistakes will mark them as they marked you? Maybe they have that same worry... Maybe not...

As for me, I hope that I'm remembered as you are. Whether I succeed or not. Whether my sermons were good and interesting, or dry and boring. However I'm thought of, I hope I'm remembered standing up on that mountain top, stripped of all the pomp and circumstance of life, yet content to be up there with God with even a glimpse of the kingdom God has promised to bring.

May I trust my memory and my life to God, just as you did.

Gracious God, your faithful servant, Aaron, was gathered to his people just as you gather all of us. Help us trust you with the future so that we might work together for good in the present, not worried about what others think but confident in your grace and love for us. Amen.

Remember, We Were Brothers

But Edom said to him, "You shall not pass through or we will come out with the sword against you." Numbers 20:18

Remember! We Were Brothers!
By Rev. William Dohle

Can you imagine taking everything you own that you can carry on your back, cramming it in a suitcase or some other item, and dragging it across hundreds and hundreds of miles? Can you imagine being pursued by a government that wishes to kill you? Knowing that if you stayed where you were that you would likely be put to death? Can you imagine what its like to trust the ocean more than you trust your homeland?

The people of Israel could. They knew what this was like. For years they had been wandering the desert of Sinai, searching for their Promised Land. They had left a land where they were in slavery, where they spent their time making mud bricks. They left that for freedom...or so they thought.

And now they were at the edge of the Promised Land. Just one more land to pass through before they reached their destination, before safety, security, and a land flowing with milk and honey. Just one more land called Edom.

They were pretty confident that the Edomites would welcome them, or at least let them pass through. After all, the Edomites were Israel's brothers! They were descended from Esau. "These are the descendants of Esau)(that is Edom)"(Genesis 36:1). Surely they would see that Israel was their brother!

And so Moses sent messengers to the king of Edom saying:

"Thus says your brother Israel: You know all the adversity that has befallen us: how our ancestors went down to Egypt, and we lived in Egypt a long time; and the Egyptians oppressed us and our ancestors; and when we cried to the LORD he heard our voice, and sent an angel and brought us out of Egypt; and here we are in Kadesh...Now let us pass through your land. We will not pass through field or vineyard, or drink water from any well; we will go along the King's Highway, not turning aside to the right hand or to the left until we have passed through your territory. (Num. 20:14-17)

Surely, Moses thought, they will help them across their land. Even if they won't help us, surely they will allow them to pass through!

But Edom refuses. "You shall not pass through, or we will come out with the sword against you."(Num. 20:18)

But help was not to come. Edom refused. And Israel had to go around the land of Edom to finally reach the Promised Land.

We too are faced with a refugee crisis in our day. Not since World War II have so many people been displaced. And those who stand at the borders, like Israel, ask for safety. They ask for security. They ask for compassion and hospitality. They ask for brotherhood.

And yet, sadly, more and more, we see us like the Edomites turning them away, from our borders and from our hearts. Maybe we think they're dangerous. Maybe we fear the terrorist in their midst. Maybe we don't understand that fundamentally, we are brothers as Edom and Israel were, and turning them away is turning away a member of our own family. Whatever our thoughts, we are turning them away from us in droves.

Perhaps we ourselves have never been refugees, have never been aliens, and so we can't relate. The experience of rejection from Edom sure changes Israel in a dramatic way. From this moment on, the commandment repeated more times in the Torah becomes "Do not oppress the alien, for you yourselves were aliens." The experience of being a refugee, an alien, has profound effect on Israel.

Maybe instead of worrying about our own safety, we should obey THIS commandment! Instead of worrying about our own resources and becoming hoarders of our stuff, maybe we should think about how we would wish to be treated if we were in their position. If we were Israel, how we would have wished others had treated us...and how we should we treat them knowing they are our brothers.

Or maybe, just maybe, if we are Christians, we should think about how Christ would want us to treat them if he were among them. Because, like it or not Christians, Christ is there, among the refugees, begging for safe passage in and through our land among the least of these our brothers. A homeless, wandering Jew, a nobody in the land of somebodies, an instigator of a quiet revolution. Whatever should we do with a guy like him at our borders?

Compassionate God, help us trust in your goodness. Give us grace to reach out beyond our borders and assist and welcome those in need. Amen.

A Whole New Perspective

"These are the waters of Meribah, where the people of Israel quarreled with the Lord and by which he showed his holiness." Numbers 20:13

A Whole New Perspective
By Rev. William Dohle

Do you know that every story you have ever heard and every story you tell has a central question it's wrestling with?

It's true.

The easiest stories to see this in are the parables of Jesus. Here Jesus wrestles with such questions as: "Who is my neighbor?" and "How does God rejoice over sinners' returning?" and "What does the Kingdom of God look like?" Here the stories are obviously about the questions.

The hardest stories to see this are the stories we tell each other. The fishing story that answers the question: "How much of an outdoorsman am I?" or the story of a date which still leaves us wondering "How romantic is that guy?" Or the story someone tells us which leaves us wondering, "Why did he tell me that?"

The Bible contains stories upon stories. Some stories are original, told just once. Other stories take a story told earlier and change it up, asking a different question, and changing the story forever. As a result you hear a very different story the second time around than you did the first.

Take the story of Israel at the waters of Meribah. This same story is also told in Exodus 15. The same thing happens there that happens here.

The Israelites are thirsty.
There's no water for the congregation.
They come to complain against Moses and Aaron.
God tells Moses to take the staff, assemble the congregation, and find water in a rock.
Moses does it and the people drink.

Same story, right? Well... not quiet. There's just one difference. The question here isn't "How did the Israelites drink?" The question here is: "Why didn't Moses go with the people into the promised land?"

That question leads to the differences in this story. It starts with a change in what God tells Moses. In the version from Numbers, God explicitly commands Moses : "Take the staff...and command the rock before their eyes to yield its water."

In the story in Exodus, God isn't so specific.

Here God commands Moses to talk to the rock. There he's not told what to do with the rock.

But in Numbers Moses doesn't listen to God. Remember the question the story is answering is: "Why didn't Moses go with the people into the promised land." Instead, in Numbers, Moses tells the people. "Listen, you rebels, shall we bring water for you out of this rock." Then he strikes the rock twice with his staff.

What went wrong here? What was Moses' mistakes? The first is... Moses takes all the credit. WE shall bring the water out of the rock, he says, not God. The second mistake, and the one which addresses the central question in this retelling of the story, is how Moses brings the water out. Instead of talking to the rock, Moses strikes the rock!

Not a big difference, right? But one that answers the question. Why did Moses not go with the people into the promised land? Because... he didn't listen at Meribah and struck the rock with his staff.

Is that a good answer to the question? Maybe... Or maybe not. But it is the answer this story offers up.

So we see how the questions we ask fundamentally change the stories we tell. It does in scripture. And it does in life too. Listen closely to your neighbor, when they're telling you the story of their life. Listen to how they phrase their sentences. Listen to how they speak. Listen to what they're proud of, what they emphasize, and what they're not proud of. Listen to who's right and who's wrong in their story. Then you can hear what questions they too are wrestling with.

Are they fearful? Their stories will tell stories of fears realized. Are they hopeful? Their stories will tell positive tales. Are they nervous or confused? Are there questions of faith in their lives? These things can all be found in the stories they tell you.

Just like the story of Moses at the waters of Meribah, our stories change too depending on the questions we are struggling with. But, thanks be to God, his grace and love remain regardless of how we tell the tales of our lives. No matter what questions our stories struggle with. No matter how true or false our telling of them is, our God never leaves us. God never forsakes us.

Let us rest in his grace knowing that, no matter what happens to us, we are his beloved forever.

Almighty God, give us ears to hear the stories of others and discern the questions they are struggling with that we may join along with them, bear their burdens with them, and support them in their life in you. Amen.

Strange Traditions...

"Since the water for cleansing has not been dashed on them, they are unclean." Numbers 19:20

Strange Traditions...
By Rev. William Dohle

Have you ever tried to explain your particular traditions to someone else outside of those traditions? Have you ever attempted to do so?

Take something Christians are familiar with: Communion. What are we doing when we take communion? An outsider would hear words like "This is my body" and "This is my blood" and then watch us eat them and assume we are cannibals! After all, that's what cannibals do, right? They eat another person's flesh and drink their blood? What's up with that, they might think.

Being an outsider raises lots of questions. I had that experience once when I visited a Jewish temple on Rosh Hashanna. There I watched them parade a scroll around the congregation. People, dressed in prayer shawls and such, would touch the scroll either with their book or with their shawl, smiling and singing. I still don't quite understand why they did that. Or why they rocked back and forth when they prayed too. That also made me wonder.

Traditions are strange, especially for strangers. And for outsiders, traditions, especially ones that have been institutionalized and made an essential piece of the religious tradition, can be so confusing and overwhelming that, unless they really grasp what the meaning is, it can turn them away. How do you explain to someone that the bread and wine taken at communion IS the body and blood of Christ, though it doesn't taste like it or look like it? And how can one not address the cannibal question if it truly is what we say it is?

Tradition is something that the book of Numbers is talking about as it describes the most odd way of removing uncleanliness ever! The Red Heifer!

Tell the Israelites to bring you a red heifer without defect, in which there is no blemish and on which no yoke has been laid. You shall give it to the priest Eleazar, and it shall be taken outside the camp and slaughtered in his presence. The priest Eleazar shall take some of its blood with his finger and sprinkle it seven times towards the front of the tent of meeting. Then the heifer shall be burned in his sight; its skin, its flesh, and its blood, with its dung, shall be burned. The priest shall take cedarwood, hyssop, and crimson material, and throw them into the fire in which the heifer is burning.  Then the priest shall wash his clothes and bathe his body in water, and afterwards he may come into the camp; but the priest shall remain unclean until evening. The one who burns the heifer shall wash his clothes in water and bathe his body in water; he shall remain unclean until evening.  Then someone who is clean shall gather up the ashes of the heifer, and deposit them outside the camp in a clean place; and they shall be kept for the congregation of the Israelites for the water for cleansing. It is a purification offering. The one who gathers the ashes of the heifer shall wash his clothes and be unclean until evening.

This shall be a perpetual statute for the Israelites and for the alien residing among them. Those who touch the dead body of any human being shall be unclean seven days. They shall purify themselves with the water on the third day and on the seventh day, and so be clean...Numbers 19:2-12

So... what's up with the red heifer? Well... the Christian in me thinks: "That sounds like Christ! Christ is killed and his blood makes us clean! We are washed in the waters of baptism. Yes!" But then I thought that might be a stretch. Kinda a big stretch now that I think about it.

I think to understand this we need to understand the why. Why is this important? The problem in this passage is uncleanliness. How does one become able to be ritually clean when they've become unclean. When they've touched a corpse or eaten with unwashed hands or done any of the things described in Scripture that can make a person unclean. What happens to them?

How do we make an unclean person clean again?

The answer is ritualistic and simple: "To make that unclean person clean again, wash them in some special water. Make the water with the ashes of a special bull and special spices and set it out so that anyone who is unclean might become clean again."

What a cool way to solve the problem of uncleanliness! Wash and be clean!

We might look at this passage and dismiss it for its irrelevance for today, but I see it as a window to what we do in worship. How do our rituals translate to the stranger? What issues do our rituals address for us?How do we communicate how special they are and what they do for our faith to others who haven't experienced them before? How do we explain their meaning?

In Communion, for me, I think about what happens with the food we eat. How, as they say, "you become what you eat." If that is so that means me eating the essence of Christ means that I must somehow become Christ to my neighbor. In that meal I receive forgiveness of my sins, life, and salvation, but I also in some way become a new person, to serve and love my neighbor as I believe Christ would.

So...what traditions do you have? How would you explain your traditions to someone? What are the whys behind what you do?

Almighty God, help us understand each other and our traditions better. Give us eyes to see our own traditions honestly and help us learn and appreciate those of others. Amen.

A Note from a Wanderer

"Then he led out his people like sheep, and guided them in the wilderness like a flock." Psalm 78:52
 
A Note from a Wanderer
By Rev. William Dohle

I swore it wouldn't happen...but it did. I hoped it wouldn't happen. I wished it wouldn't happen. I thought: "Surely this time it'll be different." But it happened.

I am wandering in the wilderness.

My wandering manifests itself in many ways but has really become apparent in my blog. Five years ago I promised that I would "Blog through the Bible" in an attempt to get through the wilderness of scripture from Genesis to Joshua. I blogged through Genesis with flying colors and Exodus as well. I even hurdled through Leviticus pretty well(Leviticus is always the book I stop on when I decide(as I have before) to read through the entire Bible!).

But then came the book of Numbers.

I love Numbers. I really do. The way it mixes law with story. The way it goes back and forth between Moses' frustrations with the people of Israel and God's instructions. It's really awesome.

But it's also about wilderness and I found myself slipping into the wilderness it describes. It grew harder and harder to post on the text. I found so much in one chapter, but when I was finished with it there was always another. And instead of calling out in me inspirational stories that would touch and encourage others, the text drew out the complaining Israelite in me, always looking backward to the land that I left, always eager for what I don't have. My reflections grew more and more critical until the last one(which I still have unpublished) when I growled and complained my worst. That was when I just stopped writing.

The wilderness was around me. And I was wandering in it.

As I stood there in the middle of my wilderness, I wondering how long that would last. The people of Israel wandered around in that wilderness for forty years the Bible says. I don't know if that number is literal or not, but we are told that it took a whole generation of people before they found their way to the Jordan and across the promised land. A whole generation in the wilderness!

Would it take that long for me? I hope not. I hope it doesn't take that long to escape that wilderness for me. But I know this place. I've been here, wandering this wilderness before. In my personal and professional life, I find its allure hard to resist. The temptation to wander instead of focus, to criticize instead of construct, to complain instead of follow. Those temptations are great here in the wilderness.

Maybe that's why Jesus was thrust into the wilderness by the Spirit. Maybe that's why he met the devil here. Because the wilderness holds temptation that draws you in, that holds your attention. Better to be a wanderer in the desert than to be one who actually makes a difference in the world. Easier to be a complainer of manna and quail than to actually decide to feed yourself.

I've been in this wilderness. It's a familiar place for me. I've been lost in its emptiness before...and I think you have been too.

Wandering in this desert isn't easy. Nor is it pleasant. But I do know this. No matter how lost we become, we're never truly lost to God. Even here God's presence goes with his people. Though the people wander, God never abandoned them. God doesn't leave them at the shores of the Red Sea or at Mount Sinai or even in the middle of the desert when they were bickering and complaining. God still stayed near them.

And I know that whatever wilderness you may be wandering in, and whatever wilderness I may find myself in, no matter however lost you feel right now, God is with you too. And he's with me. Even in the midst of our complaining, arguing, and procrastinating, God is still here.

So I vow that my blog will go on. My devotions will continue. The wilderness will be traversed. It may take a little longer than I anticipated, but that's a wilderness for you! And God will be with us all the way!

God of the wanderers, be near us when we find ourselves in the wilderness. Strengthen us that we may not fall into temptation, but remain faithful. Amen.