One of the advantages of living in southern California is that we are able to identify with the physical geography of the Bible because it is so much like our own.  So when Luke tells us about Jesus being led into the wilderness, we can readily envision the kind of desert wasteland it must have been.  It's true, the desert does have a certain kind of stark beauty to it; and in the spring after the winter rains, it will have some beautiful wildflowers.  But very few regard the desert as a primary tourist destination.  It's something we have to cross to get from here to points east, and generally speaking, the faster the better.  Jean and I made it from Barstow to Needles in two hours last month on our way to Flagstaff, and we were glad it wasn't any slower.

We're not told what Jesus thought of his wilderness destination, where he spent forty days following his baptism, but probably it was not the vacation of his dreams.  Indeed, we don't know that he willingly chose it.  Luke tells us he was led there by a higher authority, namely the Spirit, because this is where he needed to be to prepare for the life and ministry that was to be his.  But it doesn't sound like much fun.  It was a time of physical isolation, which meant he had only himself to live with.  Maybe the peace and quiet were nice for the first few days-but 40 days of living with ourselves would do most of us in!  But it was also a time of spiritual wilderness for Jesus, marked by a struggle with the wiliest temptations the devil could inspire. It meant wrestling through thorny issues of values and directions and goals, as he sought to discern God's will in all of this. But clearly the Spirit mandated such an experience for Jesus, because it was essential preparation for an authentic and credible ministry in God's name in the world.

I see this working in Jesus in two ways.  As a human called to minister to other humans, Jesus needed to be in touch with his own humanity.  He needed to sort out and wrestle with his own hopes and fears and doubts and, yes, temptations, in order to have a true word about life to share.  His teaching and example would be credible only if it emerged out of his own coming to terms with life.  The wilderness gave him the occasion for that kind of inner personal encounter which is symbolized by the temptations in Luke's gospel.

At the same time Jesus needed to get clear about the directions and goals ofhis ministry.  What was it that God had sent him to do-and what did it mean to represent God to human beings?  Did it mean becoming a political savior,as so many of his contemporaries expected?  Was he called to assuage human need by turning stones into bread-or to establish himself as a widely acclaimed religious personage with a multitude of followers?  Jesus' temptations were vocational as well as personal.  And as much as anything, he was tempted to avoid the struggle and suffering that involvement with this world so often entails.  How well we can understand that!  Jesus at that point could already see the possibility of a cross on his horizon.  So the wilderness became the time when God's will and purpose became clear to him, and though it meant opting for the road of struggle and sacrifice and rejecting the easier shortcuts, he knew then what his mission in life truly was.

The season of Lent, which we have now entered, is our 40-day opportunity for spiritual preparation each year.  It's a time when we anticipate the coming of Easter, the great celebration of Jesus' victory over sin and death, which we also hope to share.  So it's an opportunity for us to strengthen our spirits and go deeper in this faith we claim.  Lent is a time when our whole culture senses that something "religious" is supposed to happen, though often there's not a lot of clarity about what that is.  Giving up chocolates or dessert may not seem like a particularly religious action, but at least it's a recognition that Lent calls for some response from us.  Now maybe that kind of self-denial is a real wilderness experience for some people!  But I would suggest that there is another Lenten practice that will serve us better-and that is engaging in the kind of spiritual wilderness experience that Jesus modeled for us.  I'm suggesting that in Lent we, too, are called to wrestle with our own humanity and to get clearer about what we are meant to make of our lives.

And the truth is we don't need to go off into any desert to do this -- for the wilderness is always right here, around us and within us.  It's the moral confusion and the distorted values, the lack of compassion for those in need and the fascination with violence that permeates our culture.  And yes, it's our own doubts and fears, our lack of living by principle, our temptations, our broken relationships and failure to love. The wilderness is where we live!  And it's so much with us that often we don't notice it for what it is -- or we choose not to notice it. In the words of the character Arnold Burnsin Herb Gardner's play, A Thousand Clowns, "I choose not to notice the stains."

But you see, Lent is a time to notice, as painful and unsettling as that maybe.  It is a time to claim our wilderness, to come to terms with the person we are and the person we want to be.  It's a time for wrestling with our temptations and deciding how we want to define ourselves.  Hopefully, it's a time when we get clearer about how God wants to use us in the world. And there's no point pretending this will be an easy or painless process; giving up chocolates really is a lot easier!  But if we want spirits that have some authenticity and lives that are of some use, this is the kind of Lenten sacrifice that we most need to make.  Friends, I believe this is the most "religious" thing we can do for Lent, and if we choose to adopt any other disciplines during this season, let them be practices that will aid us in claiming our wilderness.

As we share today in the sacrament of Communion, we remember the Christ who went into the wilderness before us -- and who endured to the point of giving his life so that we might have life in his name.  May we find here nourishment and strength for our Lenten journeys, wherever they may lead us.  Amen.