“And he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by the Adversary, and he was among the wild beasts. And he was served by divine messengers” (Mark 1.13).
Wilderness Wind, we brushed our heads with burned leaves, and walked into this place where the wild beasts dwell, where familiar comforts are left behind. And after our forty-day sojourn, we expected to come out.
But we are struggling to find the way back home. We are beginning to believe that there is no way back to the place we left. So we’re willing to take whatever is closest. We are willing to take any path that leads us out of this strange in-between.
We gave up things—habits and symbols and acts. Those were meant to give us space to be with you, here. But the days took away more: forced us to sacrifice small offerings and comforts.
Did we really need to be purged of afternoon movies in a cool theater? Lunchtime escapes from the office? Dinners where we neither had to cook nor clean up?
And even after a year, we are finding new wilds in this distant place. We have breathed in smoke from distant fires, felt cold like we never have, wondered if we are falling into some dark period of history.
We are all very tired.
So, after all this time, you return again to this place where we try to keep one another at arm’s length and cover our lips when we speak. You come to us who have realized our abuse has caught up to us, and the maintenance we failed to do has caused damage it will take a long, long time to repair.
We have been waiting for you, longing for you.
We need you to make it make sense. Yes, we want you to lead us out of here to whatever journey lies beyond, but before we leave in a single-file vaccination line with the vulnerable in front, we need you to give this meaning. We need to know that this time, in this place was and can be blessed.
We hold no illusions that you had this in mind or put all this into place. The Adversary is in the shadows of these hills, and he has whispered of self-reliance, personal freedom, and the powers this world can offer. Some took him up on those offers, and led us the wrong way, stranded us in this land.
But you can lead us home. Perhaps not the place we knew before, but a land just as fertile; because, you are there. You, by being with us, can make it new, and name all our tears.
Wilderness Wind, breathe on us. Ruffle our roughly cut hair and around-the-house clothes. Pick up the smell of bread fresh from the oven and let it be our guide to the edge of this place where a harvest has been waiting, a rare vintage on the vine.
Take us where we can sit down together to eat, to drink and to taste how good it can be before we stand up, strengthened, for what lies ahead.
Yes! Thank you!