Sunday, September 21, 2008

Lessons from the Wilderness

Fort Wilderness—that’s the name of the camp I’ve worked at for several summers past. Deep in the great woods of northern Wisconsin, nestled by the side of a brilliant blue lake, this camp is at least fifteen miles from the nearest small town. Until a few weeks ago, when I heard the word “wilderness,” this is what I pictured—lush green trees, wild blueberries, soft pine needle paths, a cool breeze coming off the lake, hidden away from the modern world of cell phones, afternoon traffic, and shopping malls.

While the “wilderness” of the Bible is also hidden away from the modern world, it is nothing like my peaceful camp on the lake. As we hiked into the Wadi Qilt east of the Benjamin Plateau this morning and surveyed miles and miles of desolation, I was awestruck. This is the wilderness of the Bible. High, tight hills of Senonian chalk plunge into deep valleys, one right after the other, stretching for miles into the distance. Their pallid, corpse-like color is only sparsely dotted with dry, prickly bushes. Sweat dripped down my face, even though it was early in the morning. The sun seemed to radiate mercilessly off the hills, burning my eyes. But perhaps the most striking thing about the wilderness was the total lack of sound. No birds chirping, no leaves rustling, not even a wind whistling. Just utter silence.

Sitting on a rocky ledge, David’s words in Psalm 139 took on a new significance:

“You know when I sit down and when I rise up…You search out my path and my lying down…” (2-3). Getting lost would be so easy in these monotonous, chalky hills; David trusts that God will guide him.

“You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me…” (5). The wilderness is an extremely dangerous place; David trusts that God will protect him.

“If I ascend to the heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!” (8) From where I was sitting, I could see high peaks as well as the Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth.

“If I take the wings of the morning…” (9) --this common biblical phrase refers to the birds that take flight over the wilderness at dawn--“…and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me” (9b-10). At either extreme and everywhere in between, David trusts that God is with him.

“Even the darkness is not dark to you…” (12). Nighttime in the wilderness is pitch black; you can see absolutely nothing. David spent many nights alone in the darkness, but trusted that God still saw him.

Starting in verse 13, David shifts from using physical, outward imagery to describing how God intimately knows us from the inside. “You formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb…my frame was not hidden from you…intricately woven in the depths of the earth…” (see 12-16).

Then David makes a shocking statement: if he were to count God’s thoughts about us, they would be “more than the sand.” Remember, all that David can see stretching out into the distance is miles and miles of sand (or chalky senonian limestone). That’s a lot of thoughts! God knows us better than anyone else ever could.

David ends his Psalm inviting God to search him, know his heart, try him, and know his thoughts. “See if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” Recognizing God’s guidance, protection, faithfulness, and care, David responded by desiring a closer relationship with God based on repentance and obedience.

May we all learn to do the same, in whatever “wilderness” we find ourselves.

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