desert discipleship: part one

Hiking with young children in our luscious, Pacific Northwest mountains, is a feat in itself. As a trail winds through the forests, along the streams, across foot bridges and toward waterfalls, children are diverted every which way to explore, discover, touch, run and squeal. Who thinks about aching feet when there is a squirrel to chase? Who complains about thirst when being sprayed by waterfall mist? Who wants to stay on the path when there are boulders to climb?

And…who wants to stay close to Mama and hold her hand? Who wants to walk with Daddy and learn about the flora and fauna? Who needs to study the trail map or is interested in hearing a story as we hike along?

A parent’s role as trail guide becomes almost obsolete along these pine-needle-padded paths, clearly marked, and laced with natural wonders. The kids, prone to their independence, delighting in every distraction, and eager to show their strength, speed and stamina, always beat the grown-ups back to trailhead, anxious to get on the road home.

So much for being needed.

But, in case you think us so spoiled in our green corner of the world, we have also completed a fair share of desert hiking.

And here we see a different scenario.

Inevitably, in the desert, before we’ve even traversed half a mile, the kids have tired of the rocks, the sagebrush and the sand. They have also begun to tire of the monotony, the heat, and the barrenness.

Perhaps there will be a reptile under that stone!

Nope.

Perhaps there will be a view up ahead.

Nope.

Feet begin to ache, throats are parched for water, and efforts are made to look at the trail map to determine when we will reach the end of the trail. Little ones draw closer to Mama, weary and looking for comfort. Then they edge closer to Daddy, looking for his strong arms to carry them. Stories become inviting, songs lift up the mood…companionship is vital as we hike and sweat through the wilderness, spurred on until the hike is finally complete.

Reminds me a lot of life.

What does it mean to walk with Jesus?

Oh, how glorious it is to walk with Him in abundant seasons. Like an eager child, I exclaim over His generous blessings, am amazed at His workings, and am enriched by His Truths. He delights me with His lovingkindnesses and showers me with gifts. I rejoice in pleasant circumstances, harmonious relationships, successful business, and effective ministry.

At the same time, these lovely, abundant times can come with the greatest temptations. Temptations to think more of what I am given than of the Giver Himself. Temptations to take for granted Christ’s presence beside me and to divert from His Truth before me. Temptations to think more of my service for Him rather than my relationship with Him.

“Come walk with Me,” He calls.

“I am!” I enthusiastically reply, leaving my abundant blessings for a moment to run to His side.

“Come listen to Me,” He encourages.

“I can hear You from here,” I respond from my busyness in His service.

“Come get a drink,” He offers.

“I’m not thirsty,” I assure Him, having quenched my thirst in the success of my endeavors.

Sometimes the mountain path grows steep. Sometimes there are obstacles. Sometimes I may slip. And like the children, I am drawn back to His side, desiring His help, seeking His direction.

But once the path resumes its ease, the alluring landscape wields its wiley pull on the soul as I drift from the Saviour once again.

What does it mean to walk with Jesus?

Down, down, down into the wilderness valley, where the luscious green disappears, replaced by dry, arid terrain, the walk becomes different. Sorrow and suffering have created a seemingly endless desert. There is no shade. There is no refreshment. There is no ability to do much of anything, except walk forward, step by painful step. It is lonely. It is barren.

Deserts in life are inevitable. Trials are part of a sinful world.

I have found myself here in the past.

I find myself here in the present.

It can be tempting to live for the absence of trials like some people live for the weekend. “I’m just trying to get through this hardship and then life will be better.”

But…

what if, instead of seeing the desert as something to “get through,” I graciously accept it as a loving invitation for intimacy with my Beloved Saviour.

Instead of enduring,

the desert is embraced.

Instead of resisting,

the desert is chosen.

For it is here that He speaks and I can finally hear Him, as the clamoring world seems distant. It is here that He offers living water and I eagerly partake, for there are no other sources from which to drink. It is here that I readily choose to stay by His side, for there is nowhere else to run.

He has always been walking with me, but it is here, in the desert, where I truly walk with Him. It is here, in the desert, where I truly respond to His love. It is here, in the desert, where I truly desire His closeness…and I am startled to find how much He desires to be close to me.

He reveals to me His secrets,

He sings to me His songs,

He disciples me Himself.

Suddenly I realize there is beauty in the desert.

He is the beauty.

He is the abundance.

He is the life.

He is all I need,

and I discover He is more than enough.

This is walking with Jesus.

Deserts in life are inevitable. Perhaps you are walking there now.

Welcome the opportunity with humility and gratitude.

Once we’ve walked with Him so intimately, we will never want to leave.

“Draw near to God,

and He will draw near to you.”

James 4:8

“Then you shall call,

and the LORD will answer;

You shall cry

and He will say ‘Here I am.’”

Isaiah 58:9

“I come to the desert alone…

And He walks with me,

And He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own.

And the joys we share,

As we journey there,

None other has ever known.”