Desolate places
I was reading Luke today, one of the four bigraphies of Jesus in the Bible. In Luke chapter 5, Luke states that Jesus 'would withdraw to desolate places and pray' (v16). I was struck by the word 'desolate'. I think the translation I'm more familiar with renders it as 'lonely', which could just mean where there are no people. 'Desolate' carries a bit more meaning; it sounds cold, empty, lonely in the stronger sense, as though something's missing perhaps.
And that made me wonder, why did Jesus go to pray to places where there is nothing? If God is with us everywhere - and Jesus at least seemed pretty confident of that! - why did he feel the need to go somewhere special, or to be precise, somewhere with literally nothing special about it?
My guess is that it's something to do with getting away from distractions. Luke talks about this habit of Jesus's at the end of a story where a leprous man is healed, and as a result Jesus is surrounded by crowds who want to hear him and be made well too. It sounds busy, very not-lonely, very not-desolate. In this context we see Jesus withdrawing, seeking out the desolation, seeking a space away from the crowds and the fame and the miracles, away from all the really great stuff that is happening around him.
If Jesus, living and working in little fishing villages, felt the need to seek out desolation, what does that say to us in the 24/7 consumer world we live in now? Jesus didn't have social media to escape from, or advertising, or the TV, or even books. He didn't have exotic cuisines to try, or fashion trends to keep up with, and (discussions of what degree of omniscience He may have retained in His time on earth aside) he didn't have a constant stream of information about disasters taking place on the other side of the world. If He felt the need to seek out desolation, then it seems like it might be even more important for us in our world of distractions.
(Speaking of distractions, I started writing this last night, and halfway through went to get a drink and ended up watching TV with one of my lovely housemates. Today I have marginally improved on this situation in that I am doing both at the same time.)
Jesus doesn't withdraw just for some peace and quiet away from the crowds, He withdraws to pray. Seems like He gets plenty of the whole exciting spiritual ministry thing, but it's not enough for Him to spend time telling other people about God, showing other people God's power. He seeks out God's company for Himself; the sense is that anything else would just be in the way.
Here's one of my very old favourite Bible verses that I came across again recently. It's from the book of Hosea; God has just been speaking to Hosea about His anger against the people of Israel and their unfaithfulness. God compares His people Israel to an unfaithful wife, who has been lavished with gifts by her husband but seeks out other men. In anger the jealous husband wants to tear these gifts away from her, leave her with nothing, even when she comes back to him looking for the prosperity he once gave her. Then suddenly the tone changes:
The jealous husband is gone and the lover is back; not dispensing gifts this time, but treating her to his time, to his own company, to simply being with him. In the version most familiar to me, the translation is 'desert' - a place again of desolation, a place where nothing grows and nothing happens. He draws her away from the things that she was so focused on, the things that she was looking for, to a place where it's really just them. And as the relationship is revived, it's no longer the husband jealously longing for his wife's attention because the wife learns to find satisfaction in his love. From what looks like an ugly power play a beautiful covenant is born.
I have only a little bit of experience of desolate places in my life, but from my time of dealing with anxiety I have learnt this from: that first, when faced with something I can't handle, or that brings me pain, or that leaves me feeling empty, I turn to God asking Him to replace that thing. When He doesn't answer, I feel that He has abandoned me. And just like the wife in Hosea's story, I have come back looking for Him not for His own sake but because 'then it was better for me than now' (Hosea 2v7). I looked back on the joy I once had and thought, I'll drop these other things I'm seeking, and I'll go back looking for the way things were before.
What this passage shows me is that God doesn't give us desolate places just so we can get back to the place we were before, to getting lots of nice stuff from Him again. Instead He uses them to lead us to a new place, where a relationship with Him is not about what we can get out of it, but what we can experience within it. And what Jesus has shown us above, is that we can seek out these desolate places ourselves - whether that be half an hour's boredom in an empty concrete car park, denying ourselves for a day the wonder that is food, or a long-term monastic commitment to poverty and celibacy.
Perhaps oddly, another passage comes to mind at this point; the exhortation in Song of Solomon, repeated on several occasions, not to 'arouse or awaken love until it is ready'. With all our focus, in the Church, on having the right attitude towards God, I think we learn to believe that a relationship with God is something we have to build ourselves. Like any relationship, however, it goes both ways. If I'm not 'feeling it' for some reason, it's good to remember what God has done for me but it's not my place to try and make myself fall in love with Him; my place, as His beloved child, is rather to give Him the opportunity to win me. Presumptuous much? Of course. But if there's one message the Bible seems to proclaim loudly and consistently, it is that God really, really, really wants us, and is ready to put pretty much everything on the line for His own people.
So firstly, in this season, I want to try and seek out just a little bit of emptiness and ask God to meet me there. Most probably that will mean the occasional 20 minutes in an empty room (if I can find one). I don't want to be looking for one particular outcome, because the point is to let God be God and to pay attention to Him.
The other thing to do is to look out for places where desolation is already; like that bit of lost time in a traffic jam, or the sleepless hours when something weighs heavily on your mind. Take the chance to stop and remember that God is with you there, and to enjoy if you can the Presence so glorious it really doesn't need any accompaniment.
Secondly, I want to take some time to figure out how to lead an emptier life. Specifically at the moment I am looking at how to avoid acquiring stuff in a consumer culture, with the hope that I can find a few straightforward principles that will do away with the constant need to declutter. I'll be starting another blog post soon to document that and where I'd love to hear any insights you have on the subject.
Meanwhile, let me know about your desolate places; the ones you're seeking to create, the ones you're seeking to redeem and the ones that God has already used to get your attention.
And that made me wonder, why did Jesus go to pray to places where there is nothing? If God is with us everywhere - and Jesus at least seemed pretty confident of that! - why did he feel the need to go somewhere special, or to be precise, somewhere with literally nothing special about it?
My guess is that it's something to do with getting away from distractions. Luke talks about this habit of Jesus's at the end of a story where a leprous man is healed, and as a result Jesus is surrounded by crowds who want to hear him and be made well too. It sounds busy, very not-lonely, very not-desolate. In this context we see Jesus withdrawing, seeking out the desolation, seeking a space away from the crowds and the fame and the miracles, away from all the really great stuff that is happening around him.
If Jesus, living and working in little fishing villages, felt the need to seek out desolation, what does that say to us in the 24/7 consumer world we live in now? Jesus didn't have social media to escape from, or advertising, or the TV, or even books. He didn't have exotic cuisines to try, or fashion trends to keep up with, and (discussions of what degree of omniscience He may have retained in His time on earth aside) he didn't have a constant stream of information about disasters taking place on the other side of the world. If He felt the need to seek out desolation, then it seems like it might be even more important for us in our world of distractions.
(Speaking of distractions, I started writing this last night, and halfway through went to get a drink and ended up watching TV with one of my lovely housemates. Today I have marginally improved on this situation in that I am doing both at the same time.)
Jesus doesn't withdraw just for some peace and quiet away from the crowds, He withdraws to pray. Seems like He gets plenty of the whole exciting spiritual ministry thing, but it's not enough for Him to spend time telling other people about God, showing other people God's power. He seeks out God's company for Himself; the sense is that anything else would just be in the way.
Here's one of my very old favourite Bible verses that I came across again recently. It's from the book of Hosea; God has just been speaking to Hosea about His anger against the people of Israel and their unfaithfulness. God compares His people Israel to an unfaithful wife, who has been lavished with gifts by her husband but seeks out other men. In anger the jealous husband wants to tear these gifts away from her, leave her with nothing, even when she comes back to him looking for the prosperity he once gave her. Then suddenly the tone changes:
'Therefore I am now going to allure her;
I will lead her into the wilderness
and speak tenderly to her.'
Hosea 2v14
The jealous husband is gone and the lover is back; not dispensing gifts this time, but treating her to his time, to his own company, to simply being with him. In the version most familiar to me, the translation is 'desert' - a place again of desolation, a place where nothing grows and nothing happens. He draws her away from the things that she was so focused on, the things that she was looking for, to a place where it's really just them. And as the relationship is revived, it's no longer the husband jealously longing for his wife's attention because the wife learns to find satisfaction in his love. From what looks like an ugly power play a beautiful covenant is born.
I have only a little bit of experience of desolate places in my life, but from my time of dealing with anxiety I have learnt this from: that first, when faced with something I can't handle, or that brings me pain, or that leaves me feeling empty, I turn to God asking Him to replace that thing. When He doesn't answer, I feel that He has abandoned me. And just like the wife in Hosea's story, I have come back looking for Him not for His own sake but because 'then it was better for me than now' (Hosea 2v7). I looked back on the joy I once had and thought, I'll drop these other things I'm seeking, and I'll go back looking for the way things were before.
What this passage shows me is that God doesn't give us desolate places just so we can get back to the place we were before, to getting lots of nice stuff from Him again. Instead He uses them to lead us to a new place, where a relationship with Him is not about what we can get out of it, but what we can experience within it. And what Jesus has shown us above, is that we can seek out these desolate places ourselves - whether that be half an hour's boredom in an empty concrete car park, denying ourselves for a day the wonder that is food, or a long-term monastic commitment to poverty and celibacy.
Perhaps oddly, another passage comes to mind at this point; the exhortation in Song of Solomon, repeated on several occasions, not to 'arouse or awaken love until it is ready'. With all our focus, in the Church, on having the right attitude towards God, I think we learn to believe that a relationship with God is something we have to build ourselves. Like any relationship, however, it goes both ways. If I'm not 'feeling it' for some reason, it's good to remember what God has done for me but it's not my place to try and make myself fall in love with Him; my place, as His beloved child, is rather to give Him the opportunity to win me. Presumptuous much? Of course. But if there's one message the Bible seems to proclaim loudly and consistently, it is that God really, really, really wants us, and is ready to put pretty much everything on the line for His own people.
So firstly, in this season, I want to try and seek out just a little bit of emptiness and ask God to meet me there. Most probably that will mean the occasional 20 minutes in an empty room (if I can find one). I don't want to be looking for one particular outcome, because the point is to let God be God and to pay attention to Him.
The other thing to do is to look out for places where desolation is already; like that bit of lost time in a traffic jam, or the sleepless hours when something weighs heavily on your mind. Take the chance to stop and remember that God is with you there, and to enjoy if you can the Presence so glorious it really doesn't need any accompaniment.
Secondly, I want to take some time to figure out how to lead an emptier life. Specifically at the moment I am looking at how to avoid acquiring stuff in a consumer culture, with the hope that I can find a few straightforward principles that will do away with the constant need to declutter. I'll be starting another blog post soon to document that and where I'd love to hear any insights you have on the subject.
Meanwhile, let me know about your desolate places; the ones you're seeking to create, the ones you're seeking to redeem and the ones that God has already used to get your attention.
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