Alone in the Desert

My sister once told me that when she speaks to God, she envisions herself in the middle of a vast, barren desert. Sand and sky as far as the eye can see. Maybe a burning, holy wind. But no sounds. Nowhere to run. No cover from the blinding sun. It is just her, alone in the desert with the Most High.

That was the most profound image I took out of my childhood, and I think about it almost every day. I, too, have come to see the meeting of God-and-human as occurring in a desert. When I was young, the only deserts I had seen were in picture books, so I  began to create my own desert meeting-place in my mind. It was wide and welcoming, unknown but not unkind. It bore His stamp of dominion, and I was always safe there. Since then, I have seen real deserts. They are wild, unsettling. There is an ancient lava flow not far from my cottage. Jagged rivers of hardened magma glitter and dare onlookers to try crossing. No one does. The rocks are too sharp, the terrain too fierce, the risks too great. So they stand back and take pictures.

A desert is a place in which it is good--no, essential--to have a faithful companion upon whom to depend for survival. Someone who knows that there is a shaded cleft here, a hidden spring there, and a clump of edible herbs just beyond. Someone who packed provisions, who shares. Someone who knew it would be so cold at night, and brought shelter. Someone who stays awake to keep harm at bay.

I have read many (nearly all) of the western stories by the great storyteller Louis L'Amour. Some of his tales were placed within a few miles of where I am living. He knew the harshness of the desert, how it swallows, hides, and never gives back. But he also saw its haunting beauty, and he loved it.

Perhaps the imaginary desert of my childhood,  that secret place where I met God, was a kind of metaphor for His attributes which I could not identify, yet I sensed their presence and shape. It was vast; He is infinite. It was strange and unknown; He is mystery. It was safe and welcoming; He is a haven of rest. It was also fierce and relentless; He is righteous and reigns on high. I was helpless and needy there; He is near to all who call upon Him. It was hot and blinding; He is holy and pure. There are more parallels than there is time to list.

Perhaps I am not so wise after all these years. I still meet Him there, in the desert that exists only in my soul, and it seems little has changed. I am still utterly dependent on Him. My sinful self is still loathe to enter into that bright, searing heat and feel the burn of His righteous gaze. I am still alone in the desert with the Most High.

May it ever be so.

Aggressive vs. Visionary

I moved away from home, across the mountains into the high desert country. It's different here. I've plunged into a new world of strange people, places, sights, smells, sounds, and rules to follow. There were things I expected--forfeiting a full two weeks' sleep as I adjusted to the irritating whine of the refrigerator in my one-room cottage. There were things I didn't expect, namely, the intimidating clouds of green mosquito-like insects called "midgies" that not only plaster my windshield, but when congregated by the millions on buildings at night, have the eery effect of making the walls appear as if they are swaying. But these are temporal things. Refrigerators and midgies will both be consumed when the elements melt with fervent heat. As my aunt says, to console us when earthly things go awry, "It's all going to burn in the end."

Here, in this place that smells of hot sand and sagebrush, I've met new people. I'm subordinate to most of them as I start this new job on the bottom rung of the proverbial corporate ladder. But I have a secret--this is one ladder I'm not going to climb. No one here would understand, so I don't bother to explain. I smile and nod, work as hard as I know how, and I hold on to the hope set before me. To outside eyes, I am camouflaged into the fabric of all the other young white female nurses eager to start their careers in modern-day America. But strip away the veneer, and there is little common ground.

See, I've noticed there are a lot of women in the healthcare business. Nursing is a traditionally female-dominated profession, and it still is. But with the muddling of the gender-roles in contemporary society, women have galloped into the sunset, often dragging their families behind or dumping them somewhere along the highway to false success. One once told her husband when they were newly married, Just so you know, I love you and all that, but you don't complete me. I would be fine without you. You're welcome to join my life, and it sure would be better to have you along, but this is my show. To her credit, they've made it work for several decades, so apparently they came to an agreement. But I still can't imagine ever telling my husband that he's welcome to hop in the saddle behind me, as long as I get to hold the reigns.

So many women around me are chasing dreams that are illusion. Hailed as innovative and visionary, yet my spirit intuits aggression from them. Women whose reputations precede them as shrewd, wise, and tempered prove to be a disappointment when their true character comes out as unmistakably self-centered. They think they've juggled the traditional roles of mother-and-homemaker with their career success.They think their children are successful for winning scholarships, graduating with honors, and making buku bucks in their own careers. Blind to the truth of their failure, they cannot see the cesspool of materialism and self-interest that engulfs their lives, nor the great void left by an unfulfilled true purpose.

So what is the answer? Is there truly no place for strong-willed, visionary women? Must they stuff their giftedness and vent their frustration in vigorous housecleaning? Of course not. The Creator would not design something that is intrinsically useless, nor something that must be broken in order to be properly useful. All of His created order is crafted with precision and intentional purpose. Strong-minded women have a place in the kingdom. I have to admit, I write this from the perspective of a woman who is not strong. Staunch in convictions, yes, but more apt to drift away from a fight and find the path of lesser resistance. I hate confrontation. Instead of taking this bull by the horns and seeking to reform the minds of women in my workplace, my default is to hunker down, keep a low profile, and make it work. I'm good at making things work, and this is not always good. As such, it is with both admiration and dread that I identify a strong woman. I'm always wondering, Which kind of Type A are you?

But God doesn't possess my faults. He is not intimidated by gung-ho gals. He made them such. What He asks from them is what He asks from each of us: To turn from our self-love, to receive of His grace, and to pursue holiness with singular devotion. It must be willing submission and obedience to Him; He does the rest. The infinite variables of each equation are all factored in perfectly, and He is able to masterfully engineer a unique being who is tempered, strong, pure, happy and blessed in her individualized strengths. I can't explain how He does it, time after time, woman after woman, but He does. He takes these selfish hearts, runs them through the fire, purifies them, and tunes them to His Spirit. There is no other way. All self-improvement journeys fade out and dead-end at some point, but the road that is narrow winds ever upward, ending at the gates of the celestial city where all visions, inspirations, and dreams find their culmination.