Most mainline Christians are celebrating the season of Lent right now. For Catholics, Lent is a time of self-examination and conversion of heart through the disciplines of fasting, penance and almsgiving. The idea of these spiritual acts of negation is that we deny ourselves physical goods so that God, in turn, can fill us with greater spiritual goods. It is also a time for us to examine our conscience and, if needed, make a good confession of our sins and receive God’s forgiveness.
One of the central symbols of Lent is the desert. If you recall a few years back, I offered a series of reflections on desert spirituality as a part of my sabbatical. Thou my sabbatical was altered by the Covid-19 shutdown, I was still able to explore the theme of desert spirituality while literally being in the desert. As many presume, I thought I was going to focus on the dry, lifeless aspect of the desert. Instead, God surprised me and had me focus on how abundant life can be in the desert. Yes, one can find the dryness, but calming our hearts in prayer and being attentive to our surroundings, one can find a superabundance of life and hope.
This basic lesson has become a central theme for how I pray when I am in nature. Living in Wisconsin, the desert as it is classically understood is a distant reality. However, anyone, anywhere can quiet their hearts and hear God’s voice in the desert of silence, the desert of being alone in a woods, the desert of riding on a city bus amid contemplative strangers and in the cold morning of Wisconsin’s early spring gazing at the night sky.
This morning I had some “time in the desert” at a beautiful park called Big Falls, about 20 minutes from where I live. I felt called to rest on Sunday and went to bed early. The result was an early rise at about 3:00am. I looked outside and for the moment was clear. I decided to try and get a head start on imaging the Milky Way core and went to Big Falls.
Sadly, no sooner I arrived and the clouds started to move in. My original photography plans changed, but my desire for prayer did not. I set up my camera to get some shots of the passing clouds and I sat in silence, being attentive to my surroundings. The wind was cold, right around 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 Celsius). The silence was broken by fish jumping in the river and the slow rush of a small waterfall upstream. I then felt a gentle pinch of cold touch my face and immediately dissipated. The pinprick of cold was a light snow that began to fall. When I sat in that cold, dark “desert” of Big Fall, I felt God placed in my heart the simple sentiment, “Be at peace.”
Some may think this not terribly profound of a moment for prayer, but it was for me. There are many things in our lives that disrupt a peaceful heart. There are many times we can feel our lives are wrapped in darkness, cold, hardness and is covered by spiritual and emotional clouds that obscure the starlight of our hope. Welcome to the desert. However, if we quiet our hearts and not be defined by our deserts, God can bring us a deep peace in that solitude. I found my peace this morning and I pray you can find yours too.
What is your desert? What is your place that often seems to be devoid of life? Do you quiet your heart and ask God to place in you wisdom, peace and love? The desert is everywhere. It is found in heated sands and the cold of snow. The desert can steal our hope if we let it. If it does, let God reveal the life to be found in your desert. Allow God to bring the light of hope to the dark skies of your life. Allow God to bring you peace.
