“The Spirit is always calling us into our deep, wild place.
We can go believing or unbelieving.
God will be faithful to meet us either way.” – Casey Page Culbreth
I’m not a fan of the cold. If you know me this is no surprise or shock. I remember attending a the Florida-Georgia football game with my dad. It was late November and we went to Jacksonville for the annual rivalry. This was an overnight trip, so we had our bags packed and were ready on Thursday. We didn’t plan on a cold front moving into the area, and we didn’t take into account that just 4 hours north of our Tampa Bay home the cold front was going to be bitter.
We did our best to cheer. I had so many layers of clothing on that I could barely raise my hands. By halftime we had already consumed more hot chocolate than should be legal (and each cup was stone cold by the time we got to our seats). The metal bleachers were no relief but standing in the cold was just as painful. Late in the 3rd quarter, it started to snow. It was the first time I had seen snow. To be honest, I was too cold to care.
I have friends who LOVE the cold and love the snow. I just don’t get it. For me, the cold is abrasive and harsh. It gets in my bones and it makes me grumpy. A frosty cold morning with a brisk winter breeze is reason to stay in side and dream of warm sunny beaches. I once joked that hell couldn’t be hot – it would be ice cold all the time. It would be lonely, cold, and I would shiver for eternity. Heaven on the other hand is gonna be toasty warm with the sound of crashing waves.
In this morning’s reading from Casey Page Culbreth’s book God is Here, she speaks of the wilderness, particularly of the voice in the wilderness that calls us to come out and prepare for the arrival of Jesus. Daily, I talk to people and hear stories that reminds me we are living in a wilderness season. Isn’t that wild to think about? It’s Advent – the Holiday Season – and instead of holly jolly gatherings, we’re isolated, lonely and afraid. Even typing that feels wrong somehow. I have this internal war that wants to “come on ring those bells, everybody sing,” and rah-rah my way through the mess.
But those moments are short lived. I can only muscle my way for so long before I find myself even more exhausted, worn out, and once again in the wilderness. And so, this reading, this idea that being called to the wilderness in the season of advent comes back to me. Is it possible that in this wild and wacky year that maybe the best place for me to be is the wilderness? Is it possible that instead of the forced seasonal festive-ness that I want to wear like some tacky Christmas sweater, I could embrace the quiet wild of the wilderness? Is it possible that in going to this space, I might meet God in a new way?
God is always with us – it’s one of the greatest promises of Scripture. But sometimes the noise is so loud that I miss God’s goodness. This year, I think I need more than seasons greetings. I need an Advent journey into the wilderness. I need to walk in the cold for a bit – into the silence of a world blanketed in winter. I could use some shivering to jolt me away from the madness of culture and pandemic and the hundred other distractions.
And so, maybe it’s time for a step out into the icy cold wilderness. I know it can be difficult. I know I may not be comfortable. But maybe as I embrace it, maybe I’ll find that God is here – God is in the mess. Maybe in the cold of an advent wilderness, we might hear the whisper of the Holy invite us to reclaim and be replenished in ways that will warm us from toes to the top of our heard.
That cold football game ended in a win for my team. We cheered through our chattering teeth. We celebrated as the clock hit zeroes. And then we moved, in mass, with all the fans who had stayed and braved the cold. We had done it – we had endured. But what came next made it all worth it. With a victory under our belt, I climbed into the bus that would drive us home, and wrapped myself up in a blanket and slept like a baby.
As we journey through this wilderness Advent – as we wait for the whisper of the holy – as we anticipate celebrating the birth of Jesus – and as we long for his return – may we also experience the warmth of his embrace, of his nearness, of his victory. God is Here.
Gracious God, thank you for the gift of the wilderness. Though I hate the idea of being uncomfortable and cold, I know that journeying into it invites me to reject the noise and hear your voice. Holy One, would you help me embrace these strange days and would you draw me closer to you? Help me to find the quiet places in my noisy world. In the car, in the shower, as I drift off to sleep at night – would you let me find my way to your heart and your whisper. In Jesus’ name. Amen.