Read Genesis 15:1-18.
Reflect
Prayer
God of our fathers and mothers before us, from the beginning you have rooted faithful nomads in your love and grace. We remember in this season that we too are rooted in your freedom in the name of Jesus Christ, your Son and our companion. Amen
"On that day the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying 'To your descendants I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates..." (Genesis 15:18)
"Imagine," my friend says handing me a section of grapefruit, "Not far from here, Abraham was wandering around talking to God." We are seated on a bench at the edge of town overlooking the vast space of Negev desert below us. Behind us are paved streets lined with modest homes and flowering shrubs. The town does not peter out as it might here on the central coast where town centers give way to housing developments which give way to ranches then mountain cabins. In Arad, the paved streets of civilization end and the wilderness of the desert begins. The contrast in stunning. And so we sit on our neighborhood bench staring into Canaan.
The desert in Israel is different than the deserts here in the Southwest. They seem so much more emptier to me: no cacti or lush desert blooms, or tenacious animal dwellers. Without leaf rustle, the wind has only its own self to gust against and so sounds like the flapping of laundry on the line. And so for the desert wanderer, the smallest sign of life like bird wings or shepherd's steps come sharp to the ear. My friend and I wondered how loud God's voice might have been to our ancestor, our father, Abraham. Abraham, nomad who in solitude carved our covenental path. In Lent, we travel the desert of our interior, stripping bare the noise of world to hear again the promise of deliverance and abundance.
The desert in Israel is different than the deserts here in the Southwest. They seem so much more emptier to me: no cacti or lush desert blooms, or tenacious animal dwellers. Without leaf rustle, the wind has only its own self to gust against and so sounds like the flapping of laundry on the line. And so for the desert wanderer, the smallest sign of life like bird wings or shepherd's steps come sharp to the ear. My friend and I wondered how loud God's voice might have been to our ancestor, our father, Abraham. Abraham, nomad who in solitude carved our covenental path. In Lent, we travel the desert of our interior, stripping bare the noise of world to hear again the promise of deliverance and abundance.
Reflect
- How do you observe the Lenten journey?
- What kind of wilderness or land has been meaningful in your own faith life?
Prayer
God of our fathers and mothers before us, from the beginning you have rooted faithful nomads in your love and grace. We remember in this season that we too are rooted in your freedom in the name of Jesus Christ, your Son and our companion. Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment