Deuteronomy 26:1-11 Luke 4:1-13
In the early 1990’s a young man named Chris McCandless left his home and family and friends to travel the United States. He shed himself of all his money and most of his material possessions. He lost his car. He eventually found his way to the wilderness of Alaska. He lived there for a few months alone in an abandoned bus. He died there after apparently eating toxic plants. Chris McCandless set off with dreams of discovery in the wild. But he discovered the wilderness is harsh.
A few years later, a woman named Cheryl Strayed set off on a journey of self-discovery along the Pacific Crest Trail. She traveled alone, carrying only what she could fit in her backpack. She fared better than Chris did. She actually made out pretty well – aside from one or two encounters with unsavory characters, and a brush with the possibility of dying of thirst, Cheryl made out alright. But Cheryl, too, discovered the wilderness is harsh.
Now, you may already know that. You may feel no compelling need to set out and test the challenges of the wilderness for yourself. I don’t.
The people of Israel surely knew about the harshness of the wilderness. But they didn’t have a lot of choice in the decision. When it was time to leave Egypt, they had to go. Quickly. No time to let the bread rise, just throw everything in a wagon or on your back and go. I think they thought, as much as they had time to think, that it would be a quick jaunt through the wilderness to get to their final destination – the promised land.
Forty years later, still out in the wilderness, they’ve had plenty of time to think about it. One thing there is plenty of in the wilderness – time to think.
But in this passage of Deuteronomy they are finally reaching the end of their wilderness sojourn. And Moses, wanting to prepare them for the next stage of their journey, calls all the people together and he begins to speak. It is a very long speech, as he walks them back through the years. He reminds them of everything they have been through, of everything that God has done for them, of every gift that has been bestowed, every disaster that has been averted.
He gives them their salvation story. Moses is telling the people that when they come into the land that is their inheritance, they need to have their story down cold.
A wandering Aramean was my ancestor. This is how the story begins. They were a people without a home. This wandering soul went down to Egypt to make a home there, and he prospered. His people were fruitful and multiplied in this land – but this land was not theirs. It belonged to the Egyptians, who oppressed them, enslaved them, used them.
And, eventually, the people cried out to God, who heard their cry. The God of their ancestors reached down and, with a terrifying display of power, with signs and wonders, God brought them out of their oppression and into the land of promise – a land flowing with milk and honey.
That’s the story of their salvation. It’s important to know your salvation story, isn’t it? To remember how you were saved.
When you think of your salvation story, perhaps you think of the gospel.
It is a story that is full of God’s saving love in Jesus Christ with lots of little stories, lots of details, things that draw us into it. Because, for us, that’s what needs to happen. We need to feel ourselves a part of this story.
So we get parables, the stories Jesus told his audiences to get them engaged in his message. Stories within the story, each one like a seed that’s dropped on the soil of our lives – there’s a parable, right there – each one a hook we might catch, a tidbit we might nibble at. We get Jesus’ stories.
And we get to be a fly on the wall when Jesus is having conversations with disciples and would-be followers; we get to be students in his virtual classroom.
We get the signs and wonders, terrifying displays of power, Jesus transfigured to flash the presence of the almighty God through him.
And we get the climax of the story – the arrest, crucifixion, and third day. Resurrection. Because he died, we live. That’s the end of the story, isn’t it? It’s enough, isn’t it?
It’s not the end. And it’s not enough. We hear the stories, we tell the stories, we claim the stories. But we need to live the stories. And that means we need to have our own journey in the wilderness.
It was in the wilderness that Israel became prepared to take possession of the land and live there as free people. They had to spend some time there. It was in the wilderness that Jesus became prepared to take on the fullness of his identity and begin his ministry. He had to spend some time there. The wilderness is the place where we become who we are.
You may choose to seek out your own wilderness experience, like hiking the Pacific Crest Trail or hitchhiking to Alaska or biking across the continent. But, in fact, you probably don’t have to. Our lives have plenty of wilderness experience in them already.
What matters is that we make them a part of our story.
This season of Lent, I want to encourage you to practice telling your own story – your salvation story. Tell of the times you have been in the wilderness and the ways God has come to your salvation.
The times you thought your marriage was finished and you didn’t know how you would go on.
The times you had to move to a strange new place and felt utterly alone.
The times you sat with a loved one in the hospital and knew you were saying goodbye. Tell of the critical points, your cries – whether silent or aloud – and how God heard you and answered you. And how God led you into a land of promise.
The truth is that, no matter how charmed, our lives all spend some time in the wilderness. No matter how capable you are, there are times when you are lost. No matter how confident you are, there are times when you are frightened. No matter how faithful you are, there are times when you just don’t know if God is there. There are moments, stretches of wilderness in every life. They are terrible.
But these terrible wilderness stretches are some of the most important chapters of our salvation stories.
Because if we don’t know how we have been lost, we don’t know how we have been found.
If we don’t know all the ways we have failed, we don’t really know just how much we have been forgiven.
If we don’t feel ourselves dying in some way, we don’t know how much life Jesus is offering us.
When you are in the wilderness, you might know. The wilderness has surprising gifts.
May you find the wilderness this season of Lent. May you be present in it. And may God find you there.
