Living Our Consecrated Deserts

Category Archives: Living Our Consecrated Deserts

Living Our Consecrated Deserts (part two): Stepping Toward a Desert’s Heat

July 4, 2008

If you haven’t already, please take time to read Acts 6 & 7 as the background for our time together in God’s Word. Today’s scripture focus is Acts 8:1-26. Please read and return.

“Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, ‘Go south to the road—the desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.’ So he started out…” (Acts 8:1-5, 26-27).

There is one, and exactly only one, reason why I braved the ninety degree plus temperatures yesterday afternoon to find my pace upon the heated asphalt of a sweltering obedience.

Better health.

Seven laps of 3.2 miles worth of health. I thought about you and what I might say today in regards to desert living. I thought about how “doable” it all seemed on laps one and two. I thought about my sweat and my “want to” in laps three, four, and five. I thought about the sweet smell of a laundry’s drying that flooded my nostrils on lap six. And all I could think about on lap seven was lap eight—the cool down. And all I could think about on lap eight was what awaited me at the end.

Home.

Air condition. Bottled water. A bath to wash away the heat and the sweat that filled my flesh with the living proof that I had run in the desert. Not walked. Not crawled. Not bawling with a fit of my will. Simply running to the finish and knowing that with the finish, my heart is better for the obedience.

I am a desert dweller. I bet that some of you are, too.

Some deserts are divinely ascribed to us—designed and ordained for our feet. Some deserts we create through our chosen disobediences and willful sin. Some deserts we inherit—the parched remnants of another’s doing. Some deserts we choose because we know that with the choosing comes better health. Regardless of how we get there, desert dwelling is often our allowed portion, and such seasons can find roots in God’s consecration if we choose to walk them with his kingdom perspective.

Desert living is a vast concept, encompassing and all-consuming. The Bible is replete with its teaching because our spiritual history is a family tree filled with desert wanderers who walked its road—if not a literal pilgrimage, then pilgrimages of the soul.

Abraham and Sarah. Hagar. Moses. The Israelites. Joseph. Elijah. Gideon. David. John the Baptist. John the Beloved. Peter. The woman at the well. The woman with the issue of blood. The woman at Jesus’ feet. The woman at the end of a stone’s throw. Jesus, himself.

Indeed, God’s Word would not be complete without these desert dwellers and the stories of countless others who walked this earth with a thirst that would only be quenched by the living water from an eternal well. In many ways, we walk the same, and until we reach the shores of heaven, our steps will be soiled with the dust of a journey that was never intended to be our final.

Like the saints of Hebrews 11, our alien hearts echo with the longing for a distant promise…for a better country—a heavenly one where the heat and sand of a desert give way to the lush and green of a garden’s embrace. It is a good and rightful longing, and there are moments in my life when I have tasted a portion of its fulfillment. Still and yet, my flesh lingers. And as long as this flesh remains, the fullness of Eden’s return rests ahead. My next. My hope and my sure.

Thus, I am left to my current. There is good to be had in the here and now. There is life and balance between the extremes of a desert’s dry and a heaven’s wet. Psalm 33:18-19 speaks to this balance.

“But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death, and to keep them alive in famine.”

God doesn’t intend for us to simply wander into our next. He intends for us to live in our now. His eyes are on us because he longs to deliver us from death and to teach us how to live in our famine. Really live. How to walk it through and how to find an eternal abundance in the midst of our parched and hot and hard.

That is what this study is about. It is not about glorifying our deserts, or feeling sorry for ourselves, or looking for a way of escape from their confinement. It is about living within their fences and finding God’s purpose through our every step of faithful obedience. It is about finishing well, even when the finish involves a less than perfect run in temperatures that threaten a will’s resolve.

As so often the case with a wilderness walk, there are events that usually precede its embrace and that prime our wandering hearts with an unquenchable thirst. Philip was, perhaps, no different from us. His desert pilgrimage began long before his feet would walk the desert road that led to Gaza. He had every reason for his resolve to find a measure of weakness. Reasons like…

Philip was called to table service. Some would consider his a “less than” calling—a behind the scenes obedience that didn’t merit the glory of the stage. After all, the apostles would tend to the preaching of God’s Word. He would simply tend to the feeding of mouths. (Acts 6:2-5).

When have I come into a desert for such a similar reason?

Philip lost a treasured companion. Stephen’s death touched the heart of all who witnessed his passing. And while it may have bolstered their faith and resolve for the work ahead, it also left a gaping wound—a tearing of deep grief that always accompanies a deep loss. I am a woman who has known some deep losses, and thus I wonder,

When have I come into a desert for such a similar reason?

Philip was relocated—scattered and sent abroad to an unfamiliar and, sometimes, unwelcome place. Samaria. To the least of these he would travel. Perhaps, running for his life. Perhaps, alone and without clarity. Perhaps, reminiscent about the glory days instead of living with the current realities.

When have I come into a desert for such a similar reason?

Philip was overshadowed. When word spread about Philip’s faithful imparting of the Gospel in Samaria, his mentors showed up to bring the fullness of that Gospel by baptizing believers with the power of the Holy Spirit. And while scripture does not record the least hint of Philip’s regard in the matter, I am prone to my own feelings of insecurity with such situations. When others have the capacity to do more for Jesus than me, I am prone to my sandals and to my wandering.

I know that I have walked a desert or two for such a similar reason!

Preceding events—those life experiences leading up to the angel’s voice that would summon Philip to a desert walk. Perhaps these initial “tastes” of the desert prepared his heart for the obedience that would follow. Regardless of the location or situation, Philip was prepared to move his life forward in the direction of the heat. He knew that life could be found within the sands of an uncertain and famine-threatened tomorrow.

He knew that better health—heart health—would find its perfection, not in the cool and conditioned comfort of a usual, but rather in the hot and sweat of a divinely, hammered unusual. A consecrated run that would yield a faith worthy of a Father’s eyes, a heaven’s stage, and an eternal garden.

We can know a similar portion. In fact, we can know the fullness of that portion because it is our promised inheritance as children of the Most High God, and so I pray…

Ready my heart, Father, for the heat of the day. Keep my obedience in forward motion, and when I am tempted to stay in the cool of my current, remind me that an occasional desert run is good for the heart. Hammer me into my perfection, and when my quit screams loud, drown it out with the truth of what awaits me on the other side…Home. It’s where I am headed, Lord, and I am undone with the thought of walking Eden’s shores with you. Amen.

A further pause…

~Ponder some preceding events that may have contributed to your most recent desert walk. Do they mirror any of the four mentioned above?

~What “heart value” have you received because of your obedience to walk in the desert?

~Which scripture “desert story” has meant the most to you and why?

Feel free to offer your thoughts on these questions or any others that you may have regarding today’s reflection. I will post again late Monday. Shalom.

Living Our Consecrated Deserts (part one): Stepping Up to the Table

July 2, 2008

Today, I begin a new mini-study with you on what it is to embrace the life of a desert dweller. It is an existence that has chased me my entire life. Only now am I beginning to live in the sacred potential of such a pilgrimage. I welcome your participation and look forward to your walking this road with me. There can be peace in our journeys, friends—even when the journey boasts a desert road. Pack your bags, put on some good walking shoes, and let God turn up the heat! I believe that he has something to teach us all.

“So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, ‘It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables. Brothers, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word.’” (Acts 6:2-4).

There is story in God’s Word that has followed me for nearly two years. I can’t seem to shake its prod. It is easy to miss if one is prone to lingering in the pinnacles of scripture—those big story moments that have remained in the spotlight for thousands of years. Nestled between a martyr’s stoning (Stephen) and a persecutor’s redemption (Paul), is the story of one lesser known. He was a man content to live in service to his Lord, even when that service required a desert’s walk.

His name was Philip, and from his first mention in scripture until his last, Philip lived his consecrated calling. No task was beneath his servant hood. What began as a ministry of literal feeding emerged into a ministry that exceeded the needs of the flesh to include the spiritual needs of the soul.

And when those needs required a scattering—a relocation to a lesser desired location—Philip obeyed. He went without complaining and with the holy perspective that God’s kingdom agenda would best be served somewhere beyond his comfort. Beyond his normal. Beyond his now. Philip would be called to the desert, and rather than run from its heat, Philip reached to take hold of its warmth.

What emerged from this lesser preached obedience is a story rife with application for those of us who, like Philip, find ourselves in a desert’s pause and who sometimes feel adrift, forgotten, and certainly not consecrated for such an existence.

Desert dwelling.

It is a hard walk. A hot and arid journey, where water falls brief and sand sticks thick. A day’s pilgrimage that sometimes turns into weeks. Months. Years. Maybe, even a lifetime. It is an uncomfortable reach, especially for children who have been promised a spacious land filled with the milk and honey of an abundant grace.

I could skip over this seeming contradiction. Pretend that waterfalls and full living are my constant, but the truth of my matter is the fact that, for most of my life, I have been a desert dweller. For reasons beyond my understanding, I often stay stuck in my desert. I stay as I am, and as each day passes, I grow exceedingly weary with my seemingly little progress toward nowhere. I believe that there are others who share my sandals and who have walked the same. This wilderness wandering is one of the many breathing realities within the Christian community today.

We are a people existing in desert conditions, desperately searching for our consecrated purposes within its heat. If we can’t escape its hold, then we often choose to wander within its confinements with our aimless and angry intent companioning alongside. Rather than accepting its parameters and finding God’s sacred objective in our allotted space, we relinquish our feet and hands and hearts to the blisters and parch that rarely yield purpose and almost always birth resentment.

I speak from experience, for I have lived and breathed such a witness. For all of my years of walking with Jesus, one would reason me past the confines of a desert’s enclosure. But years and experience and wisdom aren’t always enough to warrant me worthy of its escape. No, sometimes something more is required of me. God’s more. And God’s more is always rooted in his best.

Thus, there are seasons when a desert walk becomes my consecrated necessary.

What I choose to do with that “necessary” is solely up to me. God will never force my consecration in the matter, but lovingly he offers it to me as the best option. He knows that there is a time and purpose for every season in my life and that sometimes, his best purpose is fleshed out upon the sands of an uncertain desert.

Philip walked upon those sands. He stepped up to the table when he was called to serve. He wouldn’t know the fame of the apostles. Indeed, his story is easily missed if we are prone to the prestige and pageantry of bigger biblical moments. But it is his story, as contained in the book of Acts, that has shadowed me for a long season, and now I am ready to put thought into his consecrated necessary so that I, too, can find purpose in mine.

There are things—sacred and unseen truths—that birth in our seasons of seeming barrenness. On the front end, we are often blinded to their realities. Sometimes we enter the desert knowingly. Sometimes, we wake up to find ourselves already drenched in its dry. Either way, our only certainty in these uncertain seasons is Jesus. Simply Jesus. When we allow him his purpose in our necessary, the outcome always favors his kingdom agenda…in our lives and in the lives of those we meet along the way.

I don’t know how your season is currently living. Mine is living pretty well considering that I have just come down from some recent mountain moments with God. I much prefer my time on the sacred pinnacles, but the valley is where I do most of my living. It is where God most often chooses to hammer out my faith. In the heat and in the dry, but with the promise of a consecration that boasts kingdom purpose and abundant return.

We will witness this truth in life of a servant named Philip over the next several posts. I hope you will join me in the desert. Many of you are already there. Let us walk the sands of our uncertainty together and see what great things our Father has in store for us.

The table has been set. The time has been chosen. Today is that time. God is inviting you and me to receive his eternal purposes for our lives, even in the midst of our heated temporal. Would you be willing to step up to the table and allow him to consecrate your desert for his kingdom agenda? I am and so I pray,

Lead on O King Eternal, in the heat and in the cool of my desert. I confess that I do not always understand your wisdom in the matter, but I am willing to try. Keep me to your Word, Father…to the truth of a desert’s embrace. Consecrate my every moment, every encounter, every word, and every act of service for an eternal purpose that exceeds my weary. And when I can no longer stand, when the drought of the desert threatens my thirst, bring me to your well of living water for lasting refreshment. Teach me, Lord, how live as a desert dweller. Really live. Beyond my usual. Beyond my aimless, until I walk straight into your eternal purposes for my life. Amen.

A further pause…

~Describe the setting of your most recent desert dwelling.

~How would you categorize your walk during that season (i.e. aimless, angry, unsettled, purposeful, settled, content, etc.)?

~After reading Acts 6 – 7, what are some reasons that might have Philip already walking a figurative desert road, even though he’s yet to walk one physically?

elaine

If you would like to join me in the desert, please take time to read Acts, chapters six and seven over the next couple of days. These verses will set the stage for our study of Philip’s sojourn in the desert. As a way of further reflection, I will offer a couple of questions with each post. Feel free to comment regarding those questions or add any additional thoughts you would like to share. I won’t be posting again until the weekend, so you have plenty of time to reflect. Shalom!