In the Wilderness

       You may think it strange that I've always loved the desert. Perhaps it started with watching Westerns on TV when I was a child, but the first time I ever actually laid eyes on one, entered one, it was almost a religious experience. In its dryness it seemed to burst with life-- I just had to search for it. I loved the stark beauty, the curves and angles of its rocks, the soft hues of tan, ochre, and green. But every now and then there was a surprise of color in a bright bloom springing from a prickly cactus or nestled against a rocky outcropping. There was animal life, too: a spiky lizard, a sinister snake, the contrasting softness of a marmot or ground squirrel. Or maybe it was simply the light. 

      Pastor Kent reminded me last Sunday that we've all been in a sort of wilderness this year. (https://www.facebook.com/125126754258540/videos/3805595656131956) Like John on Patmos, we've ALL been surrounded by the "leprosy" of Coronavirus, put into a "penal colony" of quarantines and isolation, living in uncertainty about the future. But Patmos was right where God wanted John, in a place of few distractions, so that he could receive the great Revelation of the terrible and wonderful things to come. I have a feeling God has us right where He wants us today, too, hunkered down where the best, most positive thing we can do is focus on Him, seek His will every moment of every day, and look for the light in the darkness. But how?

     Think about it: how much more time have you spent this year at home, interacting with family, instead of rushing to all your "normal" activities? You may just have stumbled onto your "creative gene" in trying to find activities to fill the extra time at home: cooking, learning to play a musical instrument, writing about your experiences, photographing nature around your neighborhood, reading good books, building things, art? Perhaps you've reconnected in a deeper way with old friends or family by phone or internet, or explored your ancestry.

      There's one thing I've noticed about desert life: you often have to look hard for the beauty, sort of like looking hard to find meaning in 2020. One of the largest desert plants is the unusual "Joshua Tree," which can grow up to 50 feet tall and live for 100 years or more. Its roots grow extremely deep, up to 36 feet, and very broad, and it reproduces by sending out runners from those deep roots. The "tree" reminded Mormon settlers of the Joshua of the Bible, who held his arms upright for a great length of time to help lead the children of Israel into the land of Canaan (See Joshua 8:18-26). Even though the tree itself may be somewhat unattractive, with its spiky, gangly branches, in Spring it bears huge clusters of greenish-white blossoms, which give off a delicious, peach-like aroma. Think about the result of Joshua's patience: the beautiful land of Israel, the "land flowing with milk and honey."

      Contrast the Joshua tree with another desert-dweller, the tumbleweed. I've actually just learned that tumbleweeds are not a particular species, but several different desert plants. What makes them become tumbleweeds is that they dry up and "let go" or their shallow roots so that they can tumble and roll haphazardly across the sand, carelessly distributing their seeds. They are, however, quite a menace, as they can pile up and block roads as well as creating prefect tinder for desert fires. What a contrast to the serene and stately Joshua tree, whose deep roots keep it anchored through the desert winds.

      Which one do I want to be in this wilderness we're all in today? I'll tell you I spent more than a few years of my life being a tumbleweed, and I'm not proud of it. When I think of the useless, sinful seeds I sowed during that time I'm horrified. But I praise God that I no longer need to fear being thrown into the fire and burned, because through Jesus my sins are forgiven and washed away. Today, I may be gnarled and not very attractive to look at, but perhaps there may come a season when I'll sprout beautiful, fragrant blooms, because I'm deeply rooted in the Source, the Water of Life. What about you?

(Joshua Tree National Monument photo: FreeImages.com)

       "He grew up before him like a young plant and like a root out of dry ground. He didn't have an impressive form or majesty that we should look at Him, no appearance that we should desire Him."  (Isaiah 53:2 CSB)

      ".... And if the root is holy, so are the branches." (Romans 11:16b, CSB)

 "He must increase, but I must decrease"  (John 3:30)

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Eulogy for a King: A Tribute to My B.F.F. (Best Furry Friend)

      

      If ever a dog deserved to enter the pearly gates it was King Tut. 

      His thick, wiry coat of soaked up countless tears as well as kisses, all the while giving off the brown sugar aroma that never failed to make me smile. That's what he was-- my "Brown Sugar"-- sweet from the moment I laid eyes on him. I still remember: he showed up along with a little black and white companion, but Tut's golden eyes seemed to reach deep into my heart and say, "I'm yours; you need me, and I need you." There was never any question that we would give him a home, feed him, watch him grow, care for him as he grew old and gray. His sister found another home.

      Tut joined our "wild child," Queen Cassiopeia ("Cassie," our first foundling), but accustomed to being the only one, she quickly began to boss him around. He took it all in stride with his gentle spirit, put up with her abuse for many years before she withered away from old age. Her loyal subject until the end, he howled mournfully for hours when we buried her, even though all his life she had bullied him into submission. He took it humbly always, never fighting back. Not long before that Poppy had come along, equally bossy, if not worse. Since Cassie was feeble when Poppy arrived, Poppy quickly took over the "queen" position. Tut just took whatever they both dished out, however undeserved and unpleasant.

      Several years ago he began to develop a growth on his side. For years it didn't change much, and our vet told us it was harmless. Suddenly a few months ago, it seemed to begin growing, becoming larger nearly before our eyes. It became difficult for him to get up or lie down; other than that, it didn't seem to cause him pain. Yet I noticed recently he began to grow thinner, his ribs suddenly showing more and more each day, even though he continued to eat. That horrible growth, it seemed, was taking all the nutrition from what he ate. And yet he continued to go on his daily 3-mile walks, tail wagging all the way. He failed quickly-- a blessing for this sweet creature who put up with so much all his thirteen years. But what lessons I learned from my pet, my gift from God!

      Humility: Tut never seemed to expect anything special, but rather accepted what came to him gratefully, always with tail wagging happily. His daily manna was Purina Dog Chow his entire life, with an occasional meat scrap thrown in, but never expected.  He even seemed content when Poppy became our first ever "indoor dog," while Tut remained on the outside, safe at night in his kennel. In his last days, though his door was open, he chose to stay in the comfort of his house most of the time. (" .... I have learned the secret of being content in whatever circumstances I find myself. I know both how to make do with little, and I know how to make do with a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being content...."  Philippians 4:11-12 CSB)

      Patience:  He waited for us to feed him, walk him, let him in and out of his kennel on our schedule, no matter what the weather. (".... a patient spirit is better than a proud spirit."  Ecclesiastes 7:8 CSB)

      Longsuffering: He put up with so much abuse from two different Alpha-sisters, who always got their way! He carried not only my emotional burdens, but the burden of that huge cancer on his side, making every effort to keep moving in spite of the encumbrance it must have been. ("However, for this reason I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show all longsuffering, as a pattern to those who are going to believe on Him for everlasting life."  1 Timothy 1:16 NKJV)

      Love: Tut was the very picture of love. I know that no matter how long he had to wait for a meal or to taken out to potty, that sweet creature would welcome me with tail wagging and a smile (if dogs smile), or at least a happily panting tongue and a ready "kiss." Even if I was away for a few days, leaving him in the care of Bill or a friend, he never seemed to mind, always forgiving my neglect, welcoming my attention upon my return. ("Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy, is not boastful, is not arrogant, is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not irritable, and does not keep a record of wrongs. Love finds no joy in unrighteousness but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.Love never ends."  (1 Corinthians 13:4-8 CSB)

      It is those last words that are the part of Tut that will never leave me. No one knows if dogs will be in Heaven (Many of us really like to think so!), but I know that, if we live in Christ, love is the one earthly thing that we'll carry with us there. I pray everyone reading this has the same assurance, but if not, take your Bible, read the Gospel of John, speak to a pastor or friend who knows Jesus, message me. Life on earth is very short and unpredictable, my friend, and I promise you, when each of us takes our last breath, we'll stand before God. Will Jesus be standing in front of you, saying, "This one is mine, Father; let him/her in."?

    

King Tut, Queen Cassiopeia, and Poppy

 "He must increase, but I must decrease"  (John 3:30)

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