The First Sunday of Lent, 2024
One of the most humbling stories of our Lord is his journey in the desert. Whenever I imagine Christ stumbling alone through the arid landscape, I'm struck not by his resilience or courage but by the fact that the journey was necessary to shape his ministry. For Christ to gather his disciples, travel across Galilee and Judea, spread the Good News, and ultimately be crucified and resurrected for our sins, he must journey through the desert alone.
As someone who is often impatient with my journey, I'm reminded that even Christ had to prepare himself for the ministry, that, despite his divinity, he was not simply ready to begin at any time. Instead, he followed the Spirit into a grueling season of preparation. Again and again, we sinners are thrown into our deserts, times of dryness, doubt, temptation, and waiting. We are given countless tests, many of which we, unlike the Lord, may only recognize as tests once we've passed or failed.
Christ willingly accepted this period of preparation, perhaps knowing it was necessary for him to complete his mission. I, however, always wish that the series of tests were nearly over, hoping that it is almost time for whatever mission lies ahead. I'm more eager for action, for purpose, than I am to garner any wisdom or gain any courage necessary for whatever God has planned for me next.
However desperate I am to escape my deserts, often when I am out of them, I don't immediately find myself tasked with a great mission for which I so hoped the Lord was preparing me. Instead, in periods of peace, joy, or reflection, I often miss the desert. When I struggle, I'm someone who is very aware of the wild beasts that claw at me, threatening to attack me and leave me weaker. Every so often, I'm also mindful that angels watch over me, their prayers guiding and healing me as I continue along the treacherous path. Sometimes, the journey in the desert fending off the wild beasts is what it takes for me to be aware of the angels, the human and spiritual aid God has placed in my life.
The desert, necessary for Christ, is more necessary for us. Not only for us to grow in virtue but also so that we might recognize that angels surround us whenever we are fending off wild beasts, protecting us and leading us toward whatever God has planned.
Claire Zajdel is a Chicago-based writer of theatre and prose. More about Claire can be found on her website.