The Desert Blooms

Can you imagine it? The desert—the wilderness. No life apparent as far as one can see. Don’t we know that wilderness at times? Haven’t we lived there—where everything is dry and barren? We look for life, for water, always walking to the edge of the next dune, only to find more dryness, more barrenness.

As I think of some of those times in my life, I know the smell of the dryness, the heat—or maybe, it’s that sense of eternal cold, when I will never feel warm again, the feeling that this is what will always be, that there is no way out.

I knew that feeling when I felt so completely alone my first semester in seminary. I knew that feeling during the years when our infertility seemed overwhelming. I have known that feeling during the years of dealing with a son’s rebellion. I know that feeling now in moments when hope seems to fail.

Where are or where have been places in your life that have been dry and barren, where there seems to be no way towards life?

 As you look at this picture, hold the images of those places in your life where hope seems to fail. As we sit or walk in the wilderness, we can hardly imagine anything else, where any hope can shine into the darkness.

And yet, we hear startling words of hope from Isaiah. The same prophet who has spent chapter after chapter telling of the devastation that is coming, painting images of barren wilderness, suddenly offers the people, and us, a new image—the dessert blooms--

a desert that rejoices with life. He tells us that the deaf will hear, the blind will see, the lame shall not just walk, but shall leap like a deer. The burning sand will become like a pool of refreshing water. The trackless wastes will be transformed into a highway, a holy way for God’s people.

We hear this not only from Isaiah, but also from Matthew. John the Baptist sits in prison, and hears of Jesus. He sends a question: are you he—the one for whom we wait, or do we have to keep waiting? Jesus sends this word back: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” Almost the very words of Isaiah. The desert shall be transformed. The dry barren wastes will blossom with hope and life.

And it is still happening today. As we move on through Advent, this season of preparation, we hear refrains of hope where there was none. Mary in anticipation sings:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

The barrenness of the desert gives way as God turns everything upside down. Springs gush forth in the wilderness. The lowly are lifted up. The blind see. The lame walk. The hopeless dare to hope. The highway of our God becomes our way where we had seen none.

Can you imagine it? The desert—the wilderness—blossoming with life as far as we can see. Do we have eyes to see? Do we have ears to hear of the deeds of our God? Do we have hearts to expect it? Do we have lips to speak the good news?

Wait for it, James says. Be patient and wait so that we can see that the coming of the Lord is near. See… Do you see how God comes even into the desert? Do you see how the waters of our God flow in the wilderness? Look. Listen. 

Isaiah 35:1-10

Matthew 11:2-11