There is something about the desert that strips you of all the pomp, and pretense that strip the lies that convince you that you can be satisfied outside of God, you can be independent outside of the Ultimate Creator, you can find joy in the creation of your own worldly pursuits and the like down to the core.
You would think the blessings that abound in other destinations would cripple one to thanksgiving and continually gratitude. To some extent they do. In alignment with Romans, I think Kodiak, Alaska is a testimony that the very fabric of Creation screams the name of our God. I would have to actively rebel against what I know to be true, to deny God when I’m in Alaska. It is hard to not choose God when Creation is whispering a love song in every breeze that caresses the mountain flowers, every rain drop that lathers the land, every wave that kisses the shore, and in every tree that provides for her tenants in the canopy below her.
But on the other side of the coin there is a confidence that is inflated here from having so many blessings. The good gifts are God are traded for a denial of needing the very provider who gave them. The blessings that come in the seasons you know will come, the change of the tide you know will come, and the better fishing season you know will come lead to a self-sufficient, all-American, living the dream, I’m-fine-on-my-own complex that modern Christians carry.
And by modern Christians, I mean me. And maybe you. That’s between you and the Holy Spirit bro (or sis).
It rained recently. In the desert. The familiar pitter patter of rain knocking on the roof stirred me to run out the door. I danced in the rain and relished every drop that hydrated my skin. The once annoying sight of rain had me laughing out loud though no one was around. The dark clouds that congregate were a choir of praise instead of a funeral dirge to my ears. The island girl, from a rainforest, was moved to near tears by the sight of rain that lasted for a couple of minutes.
Oh God forgive me.
I see why I was brought here. The desolation of the seemingly endless desert horizon is the same leveling that God needed to do on the terrain of my heart.
With desert rain comes the inevitable humidity. It is a short lived relief from the unforgiving sun. The same happens spiritually. With the cleansing of my spirit comes the reality that it will not be a walk in the park, there is work to be done. We were never promised it would be easy.
I am reminded to marvel at His Creation, His grace. Oh God, how gracious you are to know what I need. Oh God, how faithful you are in how you are never surprised, never thrown off guard, and never disappointed in your people beyond the bounds of your grace. Oh God, how glorious you are to give me rain, spiritually and physically and may the season of growing begin.