Thursday, February 28, 2008

Dear God,

We were small, a hand-full of worshippers but we had come to sing the songs of faith, our Lenten faith, our suffering faith. We had come to draw near to you.

I sat in the front pew, reading the scripture and excerpts from Then Sings My Soul, a book about the whys and how particular hymns were written, what the source of their inspiration was. I would stand and read, then we would sing the song and ponder the reflection question in silence. What is the meaning of the cross for us?

Our voices would blend together, some on key, some on not. But there was something so meaningful about singing those songs together. If we had been in some formal competition, we would not have been selected as the best singing group, however, if faith had been the determining factor, we would have risen to the top. Faith had drawn us to church. We cared about our spirit and soul. We desired to let you know we're mighty interested in a life with you. We wanted to nurture our faith, to strengthen our resolve to live Christian lives. And so we gathered at the best place we know to do so. We came together on 52nd Street.

While the numbers of people attending our services every Lenten Wednesday have been low, I have found it exceedingly joyful to plan them, to participate in them, to offer them to people who are hungry for a living spirit. I have watched their faces, listened to their voices, prayed for them, anointing many for healing either for themselves or someone else in the church. I have not been disappointed.

The Lenten season is my favorite. A walk in the desert is me. I am a desert dweller. I find comfort in the juice of the cactus, a surprise dose of living water. I know the route, the pitfalls, the danger of the desert because I've spent a lot of time there. I like the quiet of the desert. I know the routine. I wander until I find myself with you.

Although we are not aware, the desert is filled with travelers. We enter the desert when we stub our toe and fall down. We discover ourselves dry when we have failed to drink the water of faith on a regular basis. We know the desert by heart when we struggle with life situations. We intentionally go to the desert when we want to know more. We make our way when we decide we want to refine and purify what is the most important essential in our life - faith.

The desert is a wondrous place. Filled with amazing revelations and surprises, the desert is a wealth of wonder, a real life-saver. It offers more than any mall, resort, or vacation spot. It lets us ask questions we wouldn't normally ask. It teaches us that our backpacks are filled with remedies and solutions. It allows us to be ourselves, naked, transparent, real. Authenticity is the catchword of the desert. It provides opportunity for change and transformation. There are no judges in the desert, no naysayers, no demons. Just fertile soil for the soul.

I sat with desert dwellers last night and we sang the love song of the desert.

Perhaps my writing
comes from the desert.
Perhaps that is why
I am the most comfortable.
Perhaps it is where
I am the most vulnerable,
the most willing
to be honest.
Perhaps the desert
is more my home
than anywhere else
on the planet.
Perhaps I'm
more free here,
more liberated
to try new things,
new ideas,
new ways of being.
Perhaps I breathe
more easily,
the desert air
agreeing with me.
Perhaps
I am more with you
in the deserts of my life
than any other.
Perhaps
I am
an eternal desert dweller.

Love, Andrea