It is the first Sunday after Epiphany; Christmas is officially over. And whether you are like me, and keep your tree up until the feast of the Epiphany, and maybe still have that on your to-do list, or you are organized and put Christmas away earlier, this time of the year is weird, isn’t it? We are all trying to figure out how to accomplish those pesky resolutions we talked ourselves into. What to do with all the leftover candy, when does school start again(?). We return and exchange gifts that don’t fit, oh man, I really should declutter my home. And really we all just still need to recuperate from the holidays that simply are not all joyful for everyone, some need a real vacation after their holiday vacation. So, if you’re feeling sluggish, disoriented, and just blah, you have cause to be. For some reason that makes it easier for me to deal with, I hope it does that for you as well. It’s not exactly a full-blown crisis, but it sure feels uncomfortable. Add to this the two perilous and highly published wars in Ukraine and Gaze as a “backdrop”, and an upcoming election that is anticipated to be grueling, and we see that we clearly have many, many reasons to feel unsettled. We are in an odd space right now, a space of waiting with bated breath for what is to come. We are in the wilderness!?
Sure feels that way. The wilderness is a stable presence and important in the Old and New Testament. It is a time and space of human struggle. And none of us escape it, no one rides for free. We all have a story of a wild time in our lives. The loss of loved ones, abuse within the family, being diagnosed with a chronic disease, financial troubles, or just the state of this world, there is a lot of wilderness out there, and it is exhausting.
But here is what also happens in the wilderness. John calls the people of Israel to the lower Jordan valley, a desert, a wilderness. It was not for the optics of his ministry, although I’m sure his attire and appearance matched his surroundings. The people of Israel have time and again been let through the desert, so that they may repent, and renew their covenant with God. The chapter of Exodus practically jumps to mind. In the wilderness, God and the people carve a new covenant, a new beginning. With John calling the people to the wilderness to repent, the gospel of Mark sets the stage for a momentous before and after event. John was the first prophet in over 300 years! And how right was Mark? Historians recognized this fact, and on a timeline, we read B.C and A.D. B.C stands for before Christ. And A.D. stands for Anno Domini, which is Latin for the year of our Lord. I know that these days we are calling it B.C.E and C.E. Before the common era and common era, but the fact remains that Jesus’ ministry had so much impact, it altered our timeline! And it all started in the wilderness.
Into the wilderness John calls the people, and Jesus responds to the call. John’s ministry is to him the sign that it is time, his time, it is time for a new covenant with God and God’s people. Jesus ushers in this new beginning by heeding John’s call. And there, in the Jordan, Jesus is baptized by John. And here is the thing: Mark established that Jesus is the Son of God in the very first line of his gospel. The readers, now and then, are absolutely aware of the fact that Jesus is the Messiah. We know from John himself that neither he nor anybody else are worthy of tying up his sandals. A job so low, even slaves were not tasked with it. Why would Jesus need to be baptized? The Son of God has nothing to repent. The sins Jesus takes on are not his, they are the peoples. They are ours. It is for our benefit that Jesus not only takes on our sins, but also God’s judgment of these sins. Jesus is allowing John to baptize him, to touch his body and immerse him in the same river the followers of John were baptized in. In doing so, he establishes himself as a brother to us. A friend who knows where you’re coming from when life gets you down. One of us. Yet not one of us.
Jesus deals with the wilderness way better than we do. During struggling times we so often flail, get angry, give up, and accuse one another. We dislike it so bitterly; we forget that in the wilderness struggle and temptation and fear are not our only companions. In the wilderness God is with us. Immersed with us. In the wilderness we are always given the chance to renew our relationship, our covenant with God. In the wilderness God is close to us. The wilderness as the heavens is God’s creation. They belong to God. God is wild. Unfortunately, we can behave erratically during those times. We can get so filled with anxiety over a situation, that our brain capitulates. It stops being rational. The decision-making part of our brain, the prefrontal cortex collapses and decisions are now made by the tiny part of our brain in the stem, the amygdala, takes over. Nicknamed the hind brain or the reptilian brain, it functions solely based on instinct. Its job is to keep us alive, therefore anything that feels dangerous either makes us aggressive or we shy away from it. It does a good job at that. The problem here is that the reptilian brain is not rational. For example, a smell can remind you of a crisis, a wilderness in your life. And even though it’s been years, your reptile brain will clock it as dangerous and will try to take over. You fight. And because the smell reminded you of a trauma involving toilet paper, before you know it, you yell at a loved one because the toilet paper roll goes the other way. Or the toothpaste cap is missing. A red light, really? Now?
We are not at our best in the wilderness. Thankfully Jesus shows us how close to us God really is in the wilderness. He shows us this loyal love by joining us. The waters created by God baptized Jesus and they baptize us all the same. God’s grace is complete. God is always present, always with us even, no, especially during hard times. If we turn to God’s grace in the wilderness, we allow our wild God to guide our thoughts and actions. By pausing, and contemplating, seeking God we can get out of the reptile brain and back to ourselves, back with God. We can be back to rational thinking in our prefrontal cortex, and in a crisis, a wilderness, that is exactly where you want to be.
Here is another problem. Sometimes our reaction to a stressor is so quick, so automatic, there is no room, no space for this kind of contemplation. It’s a knee jerk reaction. When we continuously fall prey to our irrational side, we can turn the wilderness into our natural habitat. Life there is miserable. Or we can instead see it as a time and place for digging deep into our relationship with God and each other. A time where we let our wild God guide us, form us, and make us new. What if we could replace our irrational knee-jerk reaction with prayer? It would of course not do away with a crisis in and of itself, but it would prepare us to deal with it in a constructive and kind manner. A benefit both for you and the people around you. To replace our irrational knee jerk reaction with contemplation we must practice and nourish our relationship with God through prayer. Our relationship with God is central to our lives. A primary force and one we must seek, always. Seek God, always. In solitude, seek God, always. In community, seek God, always. Seek God’s loving presence. Through prayer, contemplation, ministry, meditation, music, and reading: seek God, always. Listen to that ephemeral voice crying out in the wilderness still. A voice that amazingly enough hums and vibrates with wild untamed love for you. Seek God, always. Seek for that wild and untamed love that passes understanding. Because not even the wilderness itself is wilder than our God’s love for us.