​Despite our hesitation, Lent is a good time for wandering in the wilderness– a place that naturally causes us to be slow and cautious. If we move too quickly, we might get tripped up, or miss something. Or worse, we might get lost. Then again, maybe Mark moves at such a speed to remind us that sometimes we have get lost in order to be found.
 
Perhaps the Holy Spirit draws us out to the wilderness, not so much to lose our whereabouts, but to help us lose the stuff that’s been holding us back from becoming who God desires of us; to be a people who do the will of God - which if boiled down to one word would be “love.”
 
I like to think this is why Jesus was driven out there by the Holy Spirit – to shed his human armor, things that included his ego and self-importance in order to truly find his divine self. And to be able to faithfully submit to what God is asking of him. Still, the wilderness is strange place to be sent in order to find who we are or what we can be.
 
Now, there are all sorts of wildernesses out there. The one Mark describes here is a literal one. A wide-open space with no Marriott’s or Airbnb’s to rent. It’s a wild, unruly, rugged place where many people don’t dare to go, at least not without packing the basic essentials like a tent or food. I understand why people try to avoid such places.
 
To borrow from the comedian Jim Gaffigan, “I’m not the “outdoor” type. I’m more “Indoorsy.” I prefer hotel beds and bathrooms over rocks and leaves. I like waking up refreshed and not with a rash. I do get why other’s find it peaceful and grounding - nature can be restorative and good for one’s soul. I just prefer those things without bears and chiggers eating me.
 
There’s another kind of wilderness – one that’s more internal. We might call this space a spiritual wilderness. The kind of place we all have been to whenever we’re searching for something, or left feeling alone and abandoned.

​We wind up there when we’re lost or confused; angry, scared, depleted, or any number of emotions. It doesn’t take much to find ourselves in this space. An illness or death of a loved one. A personal or financial crisis. A bad vocation. A broken relationship. Or just a general sense of dread from all that’s going on in the news. These are not places we like to go, but have to. And rarely do we go there by choice.

 
While the other gospels say Jesus was led by the Spirit to the wilderness, Mark uses a much more forceful verb. He states the Holy Spirit drove Jesus there. Not in a car, as Rev. Dawn likes to say. Mark uses the same Greek word that the other writers use to describe Jesus driving out demons.
 
Is he suggesting Jesus went unwillingly? Or at least resisted? It’s not too far-fetched to think so. It’s a natural reaction we have when we do the hard work of letting go of our ego, our human self to find our divine nature. I think God forces us to spend time in this emotional, spiritual wilderness if for no other reason than it requires us to rely on God’s providence and provision.
 
And that’s the thing about Lent. It forces us into spaces we dare not go, to face the things that make us uncomfortable. And to lean on God for help. In essence, it drives us into a closer relationship with the One who created the wilderness itself.
 
We might be tempted to skirt the wilderness, or turn away from encountering the wild places in our lives. Choosing instead to give over to temptation or to run off with the wild beasts. But if we seek to truly follow Jesus to truly live in our world as God calls us, then we must face the wild; even if it’s with some cautious hesitation.
 
The thing I’ve learned about the wilderness is that it’s really nothing more than what my friend Barry Szymanski calls “a placeless place.” It exists. The ground itself is real. But there aren’t any walls or ceilings. No barriers of any kind to contain us or box us in physically, mentally, or spiritually. Like Szymanski notes, “Everywhere we look is open to us. We are grounded only where we are.”
 
Perhaps that’s why we need to go there. Walls give us a false sense of security. We put them up thinking they’ll keep us safe by keeping the wild beasts out.

But really all they did is keep us confined in a space were we spend our days and nights looking at the same walls, walking into the same rooms, thinking the same thoughts. Inside our isolated little boxes, nothing really changes. We don’t evolve or move closer to God. Our faith becomes stagnant. Our prayers become rote. Our connection to God is limited at best.

Like a plant in a pot that’s too small, there’s only so much space to grow. God drives out to this placeless place where we are truly free to spread our wings, to allow our faith to blossom by liberating us from the many boxes we find ourselves in.
 
This can be a serious challenge to many of us. One, because our ego will resist the change. It doesn’t like to give up control. It’s been our safety net for so long…we’ve relied on it addictively.

Moreover, to do the hard work of letting go of our ego, means we have to it by ourselves. Just as Jesus was driven out there by himself, we too are cajoled and prodded by the Holy Spirit to leave our comforts behind to join him.
 
But here’s the thing about Mark’s version of this story, he reminds us that we are never really alone. Unlike the other gospel accounts, Mark tells us there are angels looking after Jesus the whole time. This tells me that no matter where we are, or what we’re facing, God’s Spirit is with us “to help us in our weakness” like Paul wrote (Rom. 8:26).
 
And so we must never forget that when we spend time in the wilderness, we are spending time with God. You see, Lent is not only a time of transformation. “It’s an opportunity to spend 40 days alone with the one who has been there before.” (Emily Heath)

Whenever we go somewhere with Jesus, God goes with us too. Because in Christ Jesus God has chosen to be with us, as one of us.

So, let’s go with God out into our wilderness – to find our footing and the strength we need to move closer to our true selves as both disciples of Christ, and children of a loving and giving God. 

Let’s go with God – to develop our spiritual muscles that will help us stand up to the darkness that plagues our communities, and threatens harm upon God’s children.

Let’s go with God – to be one with Christ Jesus who showed us how to stand in the fray of hatred and bigotry to love God, love others, and serve both.

For Lent isn’t just some ritualistic observance. It’s a time to let go of the things that keep us from moving closer to Go. It’s about going to those difficult places and finding our place in God’s heart. I hope that you will take the time this season to see what the wilderness offers you – a new life, a new ministry, or new ways of living into your Christlikeness.  

As you face the tough decisions and tougher realities, know that God is with you, caring for you with nothing but compassion and love.

Just as God watched over Jesus as he journeyed towards the cross and beyond, God watches over you and me as we shed our armor and let go of our ego so that we may love and serve God freely and faithfully.

“Even if it means going further in the wilderness, even if you feel more lost than ever, I invite you to follow the one who has been there before us. He might not lead you down easy paths, but he will also not lead you astray.” (Heath)
  

Work Cited
Brown Taylor, Barbara. Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2. [Westminster John Knox: 2008]. p.45.
Heath, Emily C. Reflections on the Lectionary. Christian Century, January 31, 2018. p.20.
Johnson, Deon. Wilderness. episcopaldigitalnetwork.com. February18, 2018.
Tew, Ana. Temptation, Wild Beasts, and Angels. February 12, 2024 (accessed on February 16, 2024)

As we move through Mark’s gospel, we discover that word is spreading rapidly about this radical young Rabbi who fulfills the law perfectly in accordance to the will of God. But today Jesus does something no good Rabbi would dare to do. He goes to place where the impure people have been quarantined.
 
Out of great compassion, Jesus breaks a purity law that God handed down to Moses in order to help this man suffering from leprosy. And in return, the healed man disregards what Jesus asks of him.
 
This is fascinating to me. After all, disobeying God and disregarding Jesus are not the kind of spiritual advice we often give at church. I know what kind of trouble either of those would get me into at home. But then again, I’m not the Son of God.
 
Although we don’t live by ancient Jewish purity laws, that doesn’t mean they should be disobeyed or disregarded. As we learned through the pandemic, such laws - like casting out lepers from the tribe - can be a good thing considering they actually help to keep a virus from spreading.
 
However, unlike when I had COVID, lepers in Jesus’ day weren’t sent to their bedroom to binge watch Ozark on Netflix. Instead, they were sent far away; forced to fend for themselves in the wilderness. No family, no work, no community. Stripped of everything, lepers were condemned to die alone in isolation.
 
Moreover, according to Jewish purity laws, anyone who touched a leper was also considered unclean. They too would be cast out and marginalized. So then why would Jesus disobey God’s law to heal this man? And disregard his own safety to do so?
 
Was he just worn out and needed some time to go away and catch up on rest? After all, he’s been going non-stop healing and teaching, and the like.

Or perhaps Jesus was unhappy with how society shamed and demonized people like him. Although this translation said Jesus was moved with compassion (or pity), other ancient versions translate the Greek word σπλαγχνισθεὶς as "anger."  
 
Either way,  Jesus had compassion for the man and acted accordingly. This should not surprise any of us.

God is all about compassion. Which is why Jesus also makes it his number one goal. He places love above any other law or dogma. Which is the lesson I think every Christian should embrace.​

In taking the risk to heal the leper Jesus showed his disciples how far they must go to follow him. The same is true for us. We must be willing to see everyone with the eyes of a compassionate heart like God does. Sometimes this will require disobeying certain ordinances and disregarding societal norms.

As a church and as individuals, we must be willing to make compassion our greatest priority if we are going to proclaim God’s glory.
 
This passage teaches us exactly how to do that. Mark tells us that the leper said to Jesus, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”  And Jesus’ response was, “I do choose.”
 
It’s that simple but not. We have to be willing to choose to help, to show compassion and mercy. To give grace and forgiveness when no one else will. Again, following Christ isn’t about obeying a set of rules. It’s about being the visible presence of God’s redeeming love to all people – especially those who have been cast aside.
 
Years ago, Kathleen and I belonged to a church that during the peak of the AIDS epidemic opened their doors to those who were afflicted by this deadly virus. This was at a time when such people were being rejected by their families and thrown out of their churches out of fear that the disease would spread to them.
 
Because the priest at St. Thomas chose love over fear and rejection, hundreds of souls received last rites and did not die alone.
 
Because they chose compassion over condemnation, countless people, like me, who found themselves at the end of their rope, would come to find Christ in the welcoming and loving embrace of others.
 
Because of their willingness to disobey the rules and disregard the norms, this small, dying parish became a bright beacon of hope to those who had none. And they continue to thrive today.
 
Jesus shows us that sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zones and meet people where they are. He teaches us that it’s right to disobey and disregard the rules if those things do more harm than good.
 
As Mark will go on to reveal, Jesus’ mission was to tell the world that the kingdom of God is for everyone – including the sick, the marginalized, and the social lepers of our day. Upon learning that, this man, now healed, couldn’t help but tell everyone the good news…even when Jesus tells him specifically not to. He disregards this command, and as a result sets the foundation for what will become the church.

That’s the power of God’s redeeming and restorative love. It’s just too powerful to contain. It has to be shared. The question therefore to us is, will we choose love and compassion over everything else?
 
This was a question Patrolman Matt Lima of the Somerset Massachusetts Police department had to ask of himself when he responded to a shoplifting call. The grocery store wanted to press charges against a mother of four who did noot ring up all the groceries in her cart at the self-checkout line.

Officer Lima had all the right to arrest her for this crime. But upon learning that she had lost her job and savings due to her ongoing issues with COVID, he decided to do something different. Instead of putting her in the squad car, he took out his wallet and bought her $250 worth of groceries so her family could eat that week.

Choosing to love doesn’t have to be a grand gesture like this one. It could be as simple as visiting a lonely neighbor, or volunteering at a food pantry.

Any and every little bit of goodness goes a long way at curing the world of its pain and suffering. Each act of kindness brings heaven a little closer to earth.
 
Henri Nouwen wrote, “Whenever we love our enemy, we exhibit something of the perfect love of God, whose will is to bring all human beings together as children of one Father.”
 
Whenever we forgive someone instead of getting angry at them, whenever we offer hope instead of adding more despair, or welcome someone instead of cold-shouldering them we fill this sacred space we call Anamesa with the visible presence of God’s great glory. Which is exactly what being the church is all about. 
 
On Wednesday, we kick off Lent. While it may not be as popular as the Super Bowl or Valentine’s Day, it is the perfect time to practice our call by going out into our communities to shine God’s light to the world.

​I would invite you to spend the coming days thinking about how you can be the compassionate heart someone might need today. 
 
Ask yourself, how can I be the light of Christ, the beacon of hope that shines brightly so others can see God? How can I be the hands that touch a wounded soul?

Or offer gentle words that soothe a troubled spirit?

How can I be the friend who sits and listens and loves someone simply because I know they too are a beloved child of God?
 
Lent isn’t so much about what you have to sacrifice but what you give as a sacrifice to God’s glory. We know what Jesus was willing to give up.

The question to us is simply, “Am I willing to do the same? Am I willing to cross the line to love God, love others, and serve both?”

Jesus said, “I do choose.” May his response be ours. Not just on February 14th or the mere forty days of Lent. But every day of every year. And every year after that.
 
 
Work Cited
Bartlett, David L and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008).
Logue, Frank. How Far Are You Willing To Go? on February 12 20212 (accessed on February 12, 2021).
Metz, Susanna E. His Fame Began To Spread.  on February 13, 2000 (accessed on February 10, 2021).
Nouwen, Henri. Letters to Marc About Jesus. (New York: HarperOne, 2009)