Walking in the morning desert heat, the wind is warm and subtle. I have adopted my friend's naming of the wind as the "heavenly breeze." We often use this phrase when we have panted and sweated during our hike up the mountain and then are refreshed as we are greeted with cool brisk air as we descend. But this morning, it's only warm breath that I feel as I walk along the winding path . . .
It's been a good road trip for us as we traveled to Arizona to be with family. I am really not a fan to go to desert lands in the middle of July, but even with the heat, I realized the beauty of this area. The horizons were endless before us, with wide skies in which clouds always took up space in just the right places. Hovering over mountain tops, the clouds brought dimension and humidity. The night skies lit up with jagged lightening spikes and roared with thunder. Rain came in a few large splats and poured in other distinct and very limited places.
Conversations were plentiful on our trip. I soaked up the discourses I had with my husband. I realized with our last 9 months of surviving our home project, we had had much less conversation. We weren't able to eat together in the same place, and we both had to continue with work with our opposite schedules. Often with the stress of a house in upheaval you found yourself in survival mode. I would even call it a wilderness experience. Living with much less and often feeling overwhelmed, left you with the nagging question of "how much longer is this going to be?" Since there never seemed to be an answer to that, you just pushed on, and even retreated to your cave of refuge.
But this time of vacation also broke through barriers of differences, like the searing sun of the landscape. Sometimes discussions were difficult to hear without feeling a need to protect and defend, yet ultimately they were opening us up to know one another better, and perhaps be much more suited at loving each one as we are. And isn't that how we actually grow and thrive, and move ahead in life? It's like the green shrubs in the desert or the majestic saguaro cactus that thrive in dirt and sand alone, and yet are very much alive and vibrant. Healing and restoration occurs even in dry barren and hurting hearts. . .
Elijah had run for miles into the wilderness to escape the death threats of wicked Queen Jezebel. He found himself in a cave on Mt. Sinai, God's mountain where Moses had been ages ago. He heard God's repeating question, "what in the world are you doing here?" He witnessed forces of nature with a fierce wind, a rollicking earthquake and a mighty fire. He tried his best to answer God's question, and God only answered with a gentle whisper. Nature is God's creation and serves at His command, it is not God Himself.
The desert can only point me to a mighty Creator, but it's just His still small voice found in His word that I can respond to. He asks me the same question, "what are you doing here, Mary?" Yes, there is a time to pause and retreat, but I must go forward into life despite threats, obstacles, hardships, difficult conversations, etc. I am never promised an easy route in life, but by listening to His quiet whisper in my heart, I can continue to walk on through the heat . . . and arrive in hope, healing and restoration.
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