A Way in the Wilderness

Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?  I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.  The wild beasts will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches, for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself that they might declare my praise.  Yet you did not call upon me, O Jacob; but you have been weary of me, O Israel! – Isaiah 43:18-22

I used to read that with just a twinge of something between self-righteousness and terror.  Now when I read it, I feel more like David probably felt when Nathan pulled back the curtain and said, “Thou art the man.”  (2 Samuel 12:7) 

How does a person become weary of the benevolent, loving and gracious God?  I don’t know about anyone else, but, for one thing, I lose track of my priorities.  I get focused on what I think God ought to be doing – you know, in my humble opinion.  If God isn’t doing what I think is important, I may decide He is doing anything at all.  A meteor smacked some stuff in Russia early this morning.   I had a better target for it a couple of nights ago.   The story says over 500 people were injured, and the other night, a little over 500 people – let’s see, 435 plus 100 plus 9 plus 2 … it would have been perfect. 

There could be a number of reasons God and I might not be on the same page.  Maybe what I think is a disease, God sees as a symptom.  He is working on the cause; I’m fuming about the consequences.  I’m all caught up in what I’m losing, like Tevye’s “Tradition”, while God is doing a “new thing”.  I miss the ultimate for the sake of the immediate. 

As always, the cure for weariness is rest, that is, trust in and reliance upon God alone.  The experts stew and spew like ants on acid.  We want action, or, at the very least, a lot of talk.  While God abhors sloth, He wants us to work out of the space of peace and slack.  There is a beauty and sense in the concept of Lent, of putting aside something that takes too much of our time and effort, that tends to hold us captive, that we think we cannot do without. 

No, I’m not giving up coffee.

But time in the desert, a setting aside of the comfortable and comforting, letting the past pass, resting from the reins of control, there are not things to dread.  The way of which we are weary is not the Way.