Into The Wilde ess

When I was growing up our church camping program included opportunities for all ages, from grade school children to adults, to enjoy the great outdoors. Housing ranged from teepees to wood frame cabins with built in bunk beds lining the walls like shelves in a storage room The bathrooms were never down the hall, but across the way, past the trees near the lake. More ruggedly basic experiences were also available, adventures that featured canoeing around Minnesota with a pack on your back and a song in your heart. I never asked the people who took that trip where the bathrooms were located. And while I participated in the cabin-based senior high camp, I have never been anything other than reticent about walking away from indoor plumbing, a comfortable bed and a fully-functioning kitchen to live in a tent among whatever surprises nature has to offer. The great outdoors is not for everyone.

But the cycle of the church year has brought us around to Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent once more, and what Lent offers us is the simple reality that while some of us may choose not to camp, none of us can avoid the wilde
ess. Not even Jesus.

It is interesting to me that, according to the Gospel writers, Jesus' forty days in the wilde
ess being tempted comes before the beginning of his public ministry. Luke's account tells us of Jesus' baptism, then gives his ancestral credentials, a resume in application for his upcoming work, then presents Jesus' job interview at the hands of the devil himself. But Jesus clearly passes through all the hoops placed in his path with grace, and moves onto Nazareth, his hometown, to return to his childhood synagogue to read the prophet Isaiah's words to his people. "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord (Luke 4: 18-19)." As you may recall, the hometown crowd did not embrace Jesus in his homecoming, and in fact ran him out of town in an attempt to throw him off a cliff. That is what could be termed immediate feedback and good preparation for what was to come a few years down the road in Jerusalem.

Consider what Luke is telling us about Jesus' wilde
ess experience. Jesus had been baptized in a very public way by his cousi
John. Jesus claimed his connection to his Jewish faith in this act of baptism before setting off to seek understanding and further guidance from God in the privacy of the wilde
ess. As it turned out, Jesus wasn't alone dealing with the temptations of balancing his spirituality with his humanity. He was supported by the legacy of his ancestors, those before him who had also struggled in their wilde
ess, many much longer than the six weeks of Jesus' employment interview. His faith was tested and challenged, but never wavered. Walking back to Nazareth, Jesus now was equipped to do the work set before him, regardless of the reception offered him after worship that day. What Luke tells us is that Jesus knew and accepted God's love for him and his people before he went into the wilde
ess. Jesus also knew what job he was applying for when he set off for the interview. Jesus put everything he had into answering the questions thrown at him and the answers themselves put him on the road to Nazareth. Three years later they would carry him to the Garden of Gethsemane.

What Luke recounts for us in these first chapters of his Gospel is not a wilde
ess experience that surprised Jesus. Jesus chose to head into the wilde
ess specifically to prepare for the three years of work ahead of him. While many of us consider the wilde
ess times of our lives as coming upon us unawares, not all are bred of confusion and desperation. Some wilde
ess experiences, times apart to pray, think and struggle with the balance of our spirituality and our humanity, are conscious choices to prepare for the work we know God has for us to do.

While the Gospels tell us that Jesus preceded the beginning of his public ministry with this time of fasting, praying and preparation in the wilde
ess, we draw this portion of Jesus' life to us just as his ministry is about to end. Perhaps we are aware that our own ministries begin as Jesus passes from life to death, and that the passing to us of this work needs to be underscored now more than ever. Being not too many months removed from Christmas, it is easy to hold Jesus in our hearts as a chubby infant and to restrict our faith and faith's work to the conformities of that season as well. Lent is not as fun, festive or popular as Advent and Christmas for that very reason. Lent calls us to claim our baptism, our heritage, our personal ministries, and then calls us to return home as adults before stepping out on the road to Jerusalem to perform the ministry to which we are called. Lent calls us to consciously choose our faith, and live into our faith as adults. We each have a contribution to make to our faith community that adds to the heritage for the next generation of believers.

How does your faith speak to you as we embark on this Lenten journey again? How do you plan to prepare for the inevitable questions of balancing your spirituality with your humanity in your life and ministry?