Garden > Wilderness > Garden

John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. (Mark 1:4 ESV)

I wonder, where was the wilderness? Was that a word for anywhere outside the city and out beyond the farms and vineyards, the rocky places where no one lives? Is that what wilderness means?

"John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness."

Wilderness, as opposed to what? Civilization? Is the desert more wild than the city?

Back in Genesis, God expels Adam and Eve from the garden (that is, from the place of His presence), and into the wild. The wild is a place apart from God. And there we find the proper juxtaposition: Garden/wilderness. This is the great tragedy behind all tragedies. Here is what God says about the world into which he was sending the young couple.

And to Adam he said,
“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife
and have eaten of the tree
of which I commanded you,
‘You shall not eat of it,’
cursed is the ground because of you;
in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;
thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;
and you shall eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread,
till you return to the ground,
for out of it you were taken;
for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.”
(Genesis 3:17-19 ESV)

The world into which Adam and Eve were cast is the world in which we, their descendants, still live. The wilderness is the world. The world is a wilderness.

Note: it was sin, Adam and Eve's attempt to deceive God and to be like gods themselves (Gen. 3:22) that caused this curse on the earth's "ground." From garden to wilderness, by God's decree.

Note also: when John the Baptist arrives on the scene, saying "prepare the way of the Lord," the act that prepares the way is repentance. Here in the wilderness, surrounded by the consequences of sin, we rethink what we've done and what we've been. That's how the way of the Lord, a way through the wilderness, is "prepared."

Now the first story about Adam and Eve after their expulsion into the wilderness is the story of their two eldest children, Cain and Abel. It is, of course, the story of envy, jealousy, and murder. It is the story of wilderness.

Are you getting the feeling that the word "wilderness" may not primarily apply to the natural world of soil and crops, etc., but to the spiritual condition of men and women. We have built a civilization since Adam's day, but we have not built a garden. We are still in the wilderness.

Now flash forward to Isaiah, who prophesies a day when God will pour the Holy Spirit out upon the world, and the effect of that will be a restoration of the Garden:

Beat your breasts for the pleasant fields,
for the fruitful vine,
for the soil of my people
growing up in thorns and briers,
yes, for all the joyous houses
in the exultant city.
For the palace is forsaken,
the populous city deserted;
the hill and the watchtower
will become dens forever,
a joy of wild donkeys,
a pasture of flocks;
until the Spirit is poured upon us from on high,
and the wilderness becomes a fruitful field,
and the fruitful field is deemed a forest.
Then justice will dwell in the wilderness,
and righteousness abide in the fruitful field.
(Isaiah 32:12-16 ESV)

The fully-realized effect of the Holy Spirit's being "poured out" is the re-gardening of the earth, the reversal of the Genesis 3 curse. And in Isaiah is more evidence that God is not speaking here merely of soil and crops (though there is that, and it is not insignificant), but of spiritual things, when he says that "justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruitful field."

Here it is in a nutshell. Fruitfulness of all kinds is closely associated with the place of the presence of God: the Garden. When the Holy Spirit is poured out, that is a restoration of the presence of God. The hallmark imagery of the restored creation in John's Revelation has to do with the overwhelming presence of God.

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever. (Revelation 22:1-5 ESV)

Now back to John the Baptist. He's preaching in the wilderness. In that wilderness he is announcing a major event in the story of God's redemptive purpose for the earth. A Mighty One is coming, long ago prophesied by Isaiah (see Is. 40:3-5), and he will baptize with the Holy Spirit!

And he preached, saying, “After me comes he who is mightier than I, the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” (Mark 1:7-8 ESV)

That is a high promise indeed. He, this one so much mightier than John, will restore the presence of God to his people! And when that happens, as Isaiah says, fruitfulness, justice, and righteousness shall "abide" (continue in settled permanence).

We live in a wilderness that is destined to be a garden again. For now, we may at times harvest a crop, but it is mostly thorns and thistles, and the work is killing. That's civilization. But there is one thing more to be noted. Christ the son of God has come (John's "one who is mightier than I"), has fulfilled the prophesies, and the purpose of God for His creation is assured. The restored Garden is not yet, but by the power of the Holy Spirit fruitfulness, justice, and righteousness are possible realities even here in the wilderness.

Wondrous Things

It's Saturday. A chance to breath. Or to think something slowly. To think it through.

I'd like to recapture astonishment. That's what I've been thinking lately. I'd like to be surprised again. By rain. By the color green. By anything so familiar that I've been looking past it for years.

I've been thinking that same way about faith. When it devolves into a mere set of presumptions, a tick-sheet of assertions about Jesus, rather than an encounter with His shockingly real self, well, that's how the American church has become what it has become. Different groups with slightly different tick-sheets, bickering over what should and shouldn't be on the list.

This is when I want to say, what about Jesus? Is he alive? And what does that mean for me and you now? That Jesus is alive.

Well, that's where I'm at these days. So this week I picked up the Gospel according to Mark, because Mark is simple and direct. I was wondering if perhaps I could let the words, the truths, of Mark's Gospel astonish me again. Open my eyes. Make me occasionally put the book down (well, the ereader) and say, "Wow."

This was, and is, my prayer. It sprung up from my heart in the form not of words but of pure desire. Wake me up, God. Astonish me. It is something like Moses saying, "Show me your glory." Or like the Psalmist's, "Open my eyes that I may behold wondrous things in your word."

Yes, it's like that.

"Open my eyes that I may behold wondrous things in your word." Please.

Wondrous things.

Theology is important. At some level I am a theologian too. But theology comes in behind wonder and attempts to wrap words around the ineffable. In some ways, at some level, it is a betrayal.

So, yes, to Mark. Who is young and excitable (or so it seems to me). He starts his document out this way.

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

"The Son of God"! Have such words (and words like gospel, and even Christ) grown dusty, familiar, merely religious markers rather than indications of something that cannot be adequately dealt with on the rational level alone? Or, in other words, have they lost their power to induce wonder? Have we, have I, lost my capacity to see the wonder, and to bow down?

This is what I desire. To be loosed in a world of wonders. Both as I read Mark's account, and then again when I look up from the page (or from the screen) and into the world around me again. The world He made. Or when I encounter another man or woman, made like me in His image. Fearfully made. Wonderfully made.

Ravish me once more, world (and Word) of God.

[Update: so this morning I come upon this: Michael Card is teaching a seminar down in Asheville, calling it The Gospel of Passion. Here's the summary: "The gospel of Mark conveys the passion of Jesus’ earthly life and ministry like no other book in Scripture. In it the Savior’s emotional depth and caring nature are strikingly portrayed. Allow your imagination to be captured by the Holy Spirit as you explore Mark’s revealing testimony. See the facts you know in your head come to life in your heart as you experience this gospel anew from the perspective of those who first heard it." That's what I'm talkin' about!]

Wednesday Update

I have so little to say lately, sometimes I think about quitting. But no, I want to continue posting my Americana Monday and Friday Songbook posts at the very least.

We're in the rainy season here. Not much sunshine. Plus, I hurt my leg running. Dang. There's the bad news for you.

I hadn't been reading my Bible for a while. I've been reading Tim Keller's King's Cross, but very intermittently, stretching it out over many weeks. It's a sort of meditation on Mark's gospel, so that's probably why, when I finally decided to get back to reading the Bible like a good boy, I started with Mark.

I love the gospel according to Mark.

Also, I've been getting with a church planting couple in my area, meeting on a weekly basis to talk about Jesus. This has been my "church" experience lately. It's not "church," I guess, but it's "the body". [see Rom. 12:4]

So anyway, reading Mark. Just started. I'm reading it meditatively, as they say. Which means, for me, maybe I'll read a short passage over and over for days. So I'm still in chapter 1. And it's stoking a flame in me. I can feel it. It's happening. I'm getting excited about the Word again. It's very cool.

Meantime, it's still raining, overcast. And my leg hurts. But this guy Mark, he has this astonishing, incredible news. It's crazy. It's about Jesus. I kinda wanta shout!

On Default Positions

Have you ever noticed that holiness is not the Christian's default position? In other words, sin is not an occasional lapse for us born agains, who are otherwise strikingly moral and righteous to the core.

For example, you decide you're not going sit in the seat of scoffers any longer. You do pretty well with that for a day or too, and give yourself a little pat on the back, informing your friends of another holiness echelon you've just achieved. But then, well, a day comes when, without even noticing, you slide back into the old patterns. Easy as sipping milk.

Or, on a more positive note, you commit yourself to letting your light so shine before men that they praise their Father in Heaven. By the end of the week, taking stock, you have to admit that no one has praised their Father in Heaven because of your little light. What happened?

This problem . . . you'd think it would garner more attention among us than it does. Sin remains the default position of the flesh. We have no grounds for triumphalism, even the subtle kind where we teach others by way of our own stellar example.

Reading Mark 2 this morning, I notice that Jesus, though he's healing folks right and left, doesn't seem to think that illness is the main problem he came to solve. Apparently, sin is the main problem. It's just something you notice again and again when you read the Gospels. Sin is a much bigger issue for Jesus than it seems to be for us. We preoccupy our prayer time asking for healing, comfort, and special favors for our children, when our need for forgiveness is the real issue.

In additon: Read Greg Gilbert on the Cross and the Kingdom. This is a more thorough and judicious unpacking of the same point. In a nutshell,

it is the cross—and the cross alone—which is the gateway to the blessings of the kingdom. That’s how you put all this together. You don’t get the blessings of the kingdom unless you come into them through the blood of the King. Therefore if you preach a sermon or write a chapter on the good news of the kingdom, but neglect to talk about the cross, you’ve not preached good news at all. You’ve just shown people a wonderful thing that they have no right to be a part of because they are sinners. That’s why we never see Jesus preaching, “The kingdom of God has come!” No, it’s always, “The kingdom of God has come! Therefore repent and believe!” He didn’t just preach the coming of the kingdom. He preached the coming of the kingdom and the way people could enter it.

Why do we so often preach (and write and talk) about kingdom realities (like healing), at the expense of the Cross?

Miracle lust?

Reading chapter 1 of the Gospel of Mark this morning (when in doubt about what Scripture to read next, I often return to Mark), I noticed how after he begins his ministry Jesus routinely silences the demons (because they know who he is), and he also attempts to hush the man healed of leprosy. It's interesting to me that he does not want people to focus just now on "who he is" nor on the healings themselves. His desire now is simply to announce, rather mysteriously, the nearness of the kingdom of God. However, when the former-leper tells everyone that this Jesus had healed him (it must have been hard to keep that a secret, in any case), that's all that seems to matter to "the crowds." It's a kind of miracle lust, and Jesus is not inclined to indulge it at the expense of his message.

The ESV Study Bible note on verse 45 puts it this way:

The joy of the healed man overrides Jesus' injunction to silence and therefore Jesus could no longer openly enter a town, lest he be mobbed. So Jesus cannot stay hidden (e.g., v. 45; 3:7–12, 20; 6:31–33). Mark often emphasizes how the crowds' excessive attention to Jesus' miracles is a frequent problem, causing the crowds to miss the true purpose of his ministry (i.e., to proclaim the good news of the kingdom).

I wonder if it sometimes happens with us, too, that our desire for a miracle, a work of wonder, actually causes us to miss the core message--the kingdom of God is at hand.