The sun is relentless.  And there is no shade. The silence is deafening.  And we are alone.  On this first Sunday of Lent the evangelist Mark invites us to journey with Jesus into the desert as he prepares for his public ministry through a period of intense soul searching and transformation.  Driven by the Spirit, Jesus will emerge from the wilderness ready to proclaim the Good News—“The Kingdom of God is at hand,” and the means to attain it, “Repent, and believe in the gospel.” In the Christian tradition,  the desert has long symbolized a place of trial and temptation, going deep within to bring forth new life. Lent challenges us to enter the desert of our own life which may be a barren, hostile place of alienation and struggle.  To be in the desert is to experience confusion, lack of direction, tension and pressure. The desert experience is a journey within to self-knowledge, allowing us to get in touch with the deepest part of our being, the part of us that needs healing, the part of us that needs to be made whole.  Solitude is our companion in our desert pilgrimage; in solitude we discover who we really are. We are able to let go of the mask of the false self and find our true self.  In so doing we encounter the living God.

 How might we, as 21^st century Christians digitally connected 24/7 to the global community, experience the desert?  Perhaps setting aside a brief period of silence and solitude daily by closing the door to the outside world and opening the door of our heart to an encounter with the Divine. Mark’s brief account does not detail the temptations Jesus endured as Matthew and Luke do. We can imagine his struggle to understand the will of his father and the courage he needed to respond.   What are your own demons—anxiety? fear? rejection? loneliness?  Welcome them into your prayer and lean on ministering angels as Jesus did to support you in confronting them. We might ask ourselves: What change needs to take place for me to grow? What fear or insecurity enslaves me? From whom am I alienated? With what commitment am I struggling? What relationship has grown dry and needs nourishing? In the desert God is not far from us and is waiting to embrace us.  Antoine de St. Exupery’s Little Prince reminds us: “The desert is beautiful. . . .  One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams. . . . What makes the desert beautiful, said the Little Prince, is that somewhere it hides a well.” I like to think the throbbing is the beating heart of God.  And the well, hidden from our eyes, contains the healing waters of the Lord’s abundant mercy and tender compassion. We need only to reach out with open arms to receive the Lord’s forgiveness. And not once, but over and over.

 As Jesus comes forth from the desert, he emerges with a new awareness of his mission—who he is and what he must do.  And so must we. Not only to proclaim the coming of the Kingdom but to actively participate in its birthing. I am reminded of this prophectic question posed by an African-American man to a white audience grappling with social justice issues: “What are you willing to give up so that others may have more?” Indeed, what are we willing to give up so that others may have more? What needs to die in me so that others may have life?

Blessings on your Lenten journey; may your desert experience lead you to proclaim the Gospel with renewed vigor and to bring into being the Kingdom of God right here and right now.