How beautiful in the wilderness are the feet of those who bring water to the wanderers, who shout, ‘Shalom!’ and herald the way of the Kingdom among the briars and dried up arroyos.
Thank you mystics and misfits who breadcrumb the trail for those of us who tarry. We see your footprints Oh Saints, and the trail of tears scattered about this lonely place. We thank you, fellow sojourners, for the cache of wisdom and wild honey you hide in the clefts of the rocks and the blazes of blood that navigate us towards Truth, and Beauty, and Justice: God.
Holy Mystery, Creator of All Things, thank you that you too are here, in the lonely places. Give us this day our daily manna and maybe a quail or two once in a while for those of us who are on the Keto. Keep us humble, teachable, even if it means we spend the rest of our days among The Wild Things because Desert is better for our souls than Empire.
Let’s put up encouraging signposts and be gracious guides to those who seem lost as we once were. Are. Were? Because it’s fluid here.
Comfort, oh comfort God’s people. Save a seat for those who don’t understand, who need their systems and structures because those are comforting things until they are not. Let’s smooth out the ruts and clear the rocks and make way for the new nomads that are coming, because they are coming, can’t you feel it? Let’s get out the good silver and fine linens and ready ourselves with plates heaped high with grace when they arrive and also when they leave because they’re not ready to lay down their precepts and phylacteries.
Let us roam and run and explore this Land Without Certainty but stay tethered to Jesus. And let us not create systems of belonging out here in the hard places. Let us be kind, and tender, and speak softly, we’ve all been punished enough.