Dr. Dale Miller

February 25, 2007

Walking in the Wilderness of our Lives

Part One of Six Part Sermon Series, "In His Steps"

Luke 4:1-13

"In His Steps" is the name of the six-part sermon series that begins today with this First Sunday in the Season of Lent. Over the next six weeks we are going to take a journey that leads to Jerusalem. We're going to be following the pathways of Jesus. Allow me to begin with a different kind of road story.

It was July in Coleman, Texas. The summer heat was brutal, 105 in the shade. The relentless West Texas wind was blowing fine-grained topsoil through the air. However, the afternoon was bearable, even potentially enjoyable. The air-conditioning was working. There was cold lemonade and a baseball game on television. It had the makings of an agreeable day.

Then my father-in-law suddenly said, "Let's get in the car, and go to Abilene. We can have dinner at the new restaurant." My first thought was, "Why? It's over 50 miles to Abilene. It's insane to drive in this dust and heat. His car doesn't have air conditioning."

However, my wife chimed in with "Great idea. I'd like to go. How about you, Chuck?" Since my own desires were obviously out of step I replied, "Sounds good to me," and then added, "I hope your mother wants to go." "Of course I want to go," said my mother-in-law. I haven't been to Abilene in weeks."

We proceeded to get into my father-in-law's car, and drive to Abilene. My first and worst thoughts were confirmed. The heat was death in the afternoon. We were soon covered with a fine layer of dust that was, in turn, covered with a layer of sweat. The food was atrocious and the service terrible.

Four hours later we returned to Coleman; hot, exhausted and miserable. We sat in the front room for a long time in silence. Then, to be sociable, and break the silence, I said, "Great trip, wasn't it?" The three of them stared at me with hostility. Finally, with considerable irritation, my mother-in-law said, "Well, to tell you the truth, I hated the trip. I went along because the three of you seemed so enthusiastic. I would have stayed home if you hadn't pressure me into going."

My wife looked shocked. Don't blame me. I went along to be accommodating. We were crazy to leave the house in this heat." My father-in-law entered the conversation abruptly: "Listen, I never wanted to go to Abilene. I thought you might be bored. You visit so seldom I wanted you to enjoy yourself. I usually watch the ball game."

After this outburst of honesty and recrimination we all sat back in silence. Here we were, four intelligent people, who, by choice, had taken a 100-mile trip across a forsaken desert in a furnace-like temperature through a cloud-like dust storm to eat unpalatable food at a second-rate restaurant. None of us had wanted to go. It didn't make any sense.

This story was written for a Community Development Journal by Charles Smiley and is called "The Abilene Paradox." We have four good people who are unable to say what they are thinking about going where they don't want to go. To put it in the words of that esteemed theologian, Yogi Berra, "If you don't know where you're going, you might end up somewhere else." This is true. It is also true that even if we know where we are going, we might end up there by a different route.

If anyone had possessed the courage to speak up, Smiley and his family might not have ended up going to Abilene. Our scripture reading from the Gospel of Luke says that Jesus had the courage to speak up. He had the courage because he knew where he was going.

Jesus took the road to the wilderness because he needed that time to think about the journey ahead. Jesus took the road to the wilderness because he needed to emotionally prepare for the mission that lies ahead. Jesus took the road to the wilderness because he was on a path from which there was no turning back. The wilderness experience was a time of personal struggle and of a time for making decisions. Jesus wasn't going to Abilene. Jesus knew that Jerusalem was his destination.

One little boy said in Sunday School, "I want to follow Jesus and spend my entire life serving him. If I can't do that then I want a DVD player and a HD large-screen television." The boy has options. Jesus decided upon one option.

In the wilderness Jesus was approached with three tests. If Jesus would respond correctly he could take some shortcuts that would guarantee him instant success. It was one of those life-defining moments. The first test began, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread." The response of Jesus lets us know that he was not going to seize authority or misuse his power. The second test required Jesus to give his allegiance and loyalty to something else other than God. Jesus said, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" The third test challenged Jesus to jump off the temple in order to prove that he was the Messiah. "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you and on their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'" Jesus responded, "Do not put the Lord your God to the test." In the middle of the wilderness Jesus is focused enough not to be distracted from his mission.

Antoine de Saint Expuery was a pioneer in postal flight aviation and the author of The Little Prince. In December 1935, on a mail flight between Paris and Saigon attempting to establish a new speed record, he crashed in the Libyan Desert, west of the Nile. Saint Exupery's story of survival, in his book, Wind, Sand and Stars, evokes the same desert discipline of Jesus. He survived because he exercised the virtues of attentiveness and indifference. Over a period of three days he walked 124 miles without water through desert sands, stumbling at last, half-dead, into a remote Bedouin camp. He had been told that no one could survive more than 19 hours in the desert without water. What saved him were two things. First, he was meticulously observant of his surroundings, noticing an unusual northeast wind, full of moisture, retarding the dehydration of his body and bringing a light dew he could collect on parachute silk. Secondly, he remained stubbornly indifferent to the panic, pain, and despair, which preyed on his mind. Learning to be fiercely attentive, he learned also not to care - to ignore everything that was unnecessary, everything unrelated to the primary task of staying alive."

During the season of Lent, we are called to examine our own spiritual testing endurance. We develop the disciplines of "attentiveness and indifference." Most of us don't spend 40 days in the desert. Yet, we all have a sense of a "wilderness" within us, and we all have experienced certain times that have felt like "testing."

Paying attention and being indifferent are the opposite poles of the spiritual life: when to pay attention and when not to; what to consider and what to ignore; what to carry and what to leave behind. T. S. Eliot in his poem, "Ash Wednesday" prayed for both extremes when he said "Teach us to care and not to care."

How can we learn "attentiveness?" This may sound silly and irrelevant, but we start by paying closing attention to anything. The naturalist Lewis Agassiz once said he had spent the summer traveling, only to get halfway across his back yard. The early church called this agrumpia, the spiritual discipline of "wakefulness," of being aware and paying attention.

The opposite spiritual pole is "indifference:" when to ignore the unimportant and what to leave behind after the "attentiveness" of life's gaze. Our lives are so cluttered with so many activities. The early church called this indifference apatheia, the spiritual discipline of "detachment" or "dispassion." This is the practice of apathy with regard to things of unimportance. It is an intentional ordering of our priorities under the call to follow Christ.

The mission of Jesus Christ was to usher in the new age of God's kingdom, to claim the world for God and to offer God's love to everyone. His message was about the life in the kingdom of God, a radical upside down view of the world, entirely different from what people thought.

Do we know what we are going to do? Are we confident enough to speak up so that we are headed in the direction of Jerusalem and not Abilene? Have we decided to follow Jesus on the road he travels, to be a part of his mission, to believe in his message, and to enlist in his method?

I heard about a United Methodist Church that was going to build a Christian Life Center. In an attempt to help raise the money the preacher wired the seats. On the following Sunday at the end of the service, she set the dial on low and said, "Now, who will give $1,000 for the building?" She pushed the button and 20 people jumped up.

She then turned the dial a little higher and she said, "Who will give $5,000?" She pushed the button and 16 people jumped up. Finally, she turned the dial way up high and in a fever pitch she cried out, "Who will give $10,000?" She pushed the button and 18 people were electrocuted! What will it take for us to decide and for us to be committed to that decision?

We know about our lives by the kind of commitments that we have made. We know what matters to us is not the size of our checking account, but the depth of our commitment. We know the thing that matters is not the way we dress, but how we live what we profess. We know the thing that matters is never the kind of reputation, but having a mind of consecration. We know the thing that matters is never our style of living, but cultivating the art of giving. We know the thing that matters is never our street location, but traveling the road of dedication. We know that the story of our lives is told by the kind of commitment that we have made.

Bill Hinson was longtime pastor at First UMC in Houston, Texas. I own a couple of books, one of them being Solid Living in a Shattered World. Hinson tells a story about Sam Jones, a United Methodist evangelist. One night Jones closed a service by asking, "If we could compare the kingdom of God to a locomotive, what part would you like to be?"

One person said, "Brother Jones, I'd like to be the whistle and sound God's praises." Another said, "I'd like to be the wheel and just roll down the track." Jones was not really impressed by any of that. But, then one man said, "Brother Jones, I'd like to be the coal and burn for Christ's sake!" And Sam Jones replied, "Brothers and sisters, we have enough whistles and wheels in the church now. We need more coal." No church ever moves forward if it is made up only of whistles and wheels.

Somebody has to be willing to burn for Jesus. Somebody has to be willing to be attentive to who and what is really important. Somebody has to be indifferent to the insignificances of living so that we can stay focused on what's really important. Somebody has to have the courage to speak up so that we won't wind up in Abilene. Are you a somebody?