For many years I longed for God. I wanted to know him, to see him, for a depth of relationship that was neither superficial nor non-existent. But while this was the longing and cry of my heart, my experience was far different. Despite my efforts, God seemed remote. I would read my Bible, I would pray, but the times that God appeared to draw near were rare. For me, this was my reality for more than fifteen years.
Please don’t get me wrong. I do not mean to imply that my life was bleak and dreadful all these years, for nothing could be further from the truth. I was blessed in so many ways, much occurred that was wonderful and grace-filled, but this longing for God did not leave me and was not met.
One day, I can’t even remember when but it would have been early on in this journey, I stumbled across Psalm 63. Truthfully most of it bore little relevance to my life, but the first verse captured me. It held me. The cry of David in Psalm 63 became the cry of my soul,
“O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”
Psalm 63:1
Here was someone who had put words to how I felt. I wasn’t alone. And over time I found a few books written by people who understood. They understood this longing, for they too had walked this path, they punctuated the years, drops of water in arid places.
Why am I telling you all this? While things for me have changed, and I am sure our conversation will turn there in future posts, I feel that it is essential to talk about the desert.
Earlier this year, I spent quite some time reading the biblical accounts of “mountain top” experiences. The three individuals who have profound encounters with God on a mountain are Moses, on Mount Sinai (as recorded in Exodus 33:12 – 34:9), Elijah on Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19), and Jesus on the mount of transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-8, Mark 9:2-8, Luke 9:28-36). I read each account numerous times and wondered. How did they get there? What brought them to this place of encounter with God. Was there anything I could learn as I look at the mountain of God, as I yearn and thirst to encounter Him?
And it struck me: preceding each meeting on the mountain was a period in the desert.
Moses spent 40 years in the desert, and Elijah and Jesus, 40 days. I do not think this is an accident. I wonder if there is a profound truth, we can glean here. To encounter God on the mountain, must we also be willing to walk the path of the desert? If this was the path that Elijah, Moses and Jesus himself followed, must we walk it too?
What exactly is the desert? And what do we encounter there?
For Moses and Elijah, at least, the desert was a place they were driven to in their brokenness. It is a place of barrenness, loneliness and isolation. A place where hunger and thirst abound. Is the way of the desert the way of pain, loss, longing, brokenness, heartache, hunger and thirst? In the desert, are we forced to confront ourselves? Our weakness and failings? Our lack of control?
I am sure we all agree that we don’t want to live in the desert. We certainly don’t want to have to journey in such places. We would much prefer the path of ease, where we get where we want to be in an instant, without the pain of the process. But I wonder, do we even have a choice if indeed we long for the mountain? If we long to know God? Do we need to also learn to welcome the desert, whilst acknowledging that the desert is not all there is? Perhaps that is part of the difficulty, when we are in the desert it seems impossible to think there could be anything else, it feels all-encompassing and inescapable.
But there is hope the mountain does exist.
Psalm 63 goes on to say,
“So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory… My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast, and my mouth praises you with joyful lips when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”
Psalm 63: 2, 5 – 8
In the desert, do we learn to hear the voice of the Lord drawing us onward, calling us deeper and further to him? Is it there that we learn to tune our ears to the murmurings from the mountain?
O Lord, we don’t want to walk this path. We would vastly prefer to live our lives in comfort and in pleasant places, please help us to accept and willingly walk wherever you call us. We long to know you and to be known by you. And we choose to follow you wherever you lead, knowing that your paths are good and we can trust you. Amen
So, what do you think? Do you long for God? Have you experienced life in the desert? I know I have barely scratched the surface of this topic and we would love to delve deeper into this in the future, but in the meantime, I would love to hear any thoughts and reflections you might have, as well as any experiences you might wish to share.
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