Lessons from the Wasteland: Prison is Not the Same as the Wilderness

Being in prison is not the same as wandering in the wilderness.  In Scripture, we see different characters deal with these two different challenges.  The Israelites and Elijah experienced the wilderness.  Joseph and Paul were familiar with prison.  Lately I’ve been identifying with Joseph more than the Israelites.  Unjustly accused, misunderstood, thrown away, discarded, locked up, prevented from going where I would choose to go.  I used to think that the wilderness was difficult, but prison is a whole different story.

In the wilderness, you still feel like you are moving forward.  Sure it’s slow and the steps are difficult and painful, but at least you are moving.  In prison, you don’t go anywhere.  You don’t feel like you are making any progress at all.

In the wilderness, you see the sky.  You are in a vast, expanding place.  In prison, it’s small and confusing.  There is no freedom; no illusion of freedom.  Everything you see, everywhere you turn you are reminded that you are not free.

In the wilderness, you are moving away from something bad, something that enslaved you.  Even though you dream of going back and long for the comfort of Egypt, you know that the wilderness will ultimately bring you to the promised land, a better place.  Each painful step is filled with the hope of a land flowing with milk and honey.

In prison, the good thing you had was taken away.  Joseph was taken out of a prestigious position.  Paul was taken out of his traveling ministry.  Both good things; both things given by God.  In prison, the good things were taken away without just cause, and there is no hope of a promised land.  Your only hope is early release, and years of working your way back to a good reputation.  But you have no control over when the locked door will open.  For Joseph, it opened and led to his ultimate dream.  For Paul, it opened and ended with a death sentence, which he joyfully received to enter the ultimate, eternal promised land.

You don’t really get new promises in prison.  You generally harken back to what God promised before prison. This is why it’s called faith; it’s difficult to see the promised land sitting in a dungeon cell.

In the wasteland, you know there is a purpose, a point you will eventually get to.  In prison, waiting is the point.  You feel stuck.  It’s like the progress is so slow and so small, you wonder if you are getting anywhere.

The lesson of the wilderness is to follow.  Step after painful step completely dependent on someone else to guide you.  The lesson of prison is to suffer.  To suffer joyfully.  To suffer and not lose faith.  To suffer and remain hopeful.

The wilderness and prison are both places of testing.  Testing of faith.  Prison is a test of character; you find out who you are and what you really believe when you are sitting alone in the dark.  Both test endurance and patience.

Prison makes you question what you thought you knew about yourself.  Joseph emerged from prison broken and humbled.  He was no longer the cocky kid brother boasting of his greatness.  He left a mature man who understood his fate rested solely in the hands of the sovereign God.  Paul was in prison so that he could write the words that impacted not only his generation, but many that followed.  I wonder if he would have taken time off from traveling if it hadn’t been for house arrest.  Prison is not without purpose.  Prison is not outside the presence of God.  He is still with me, and that is the hope that remains in this cold, confined space.

Lessons from the Wasteland: Living by the Promise

“Are we going to live by what he promised or by what life gives us?”  This was the question Lloyd Shadrach posed in his sermon “He Breathed His Last.”  Right now I’m not crazy about what life is giving me and I’m finding it much easier to focus on that.  The last two years I have been writing a book, piloting a study, building a “platform,” and wholeheartedly pursuing the life of the writer/speaker I felt I was called and created to be.  I thought that would lead me to a place where I could get paid to do what I love.  But it hasn’t.  I thought I had laid the foundation beautifully and all God had to do was come in a bless it.  He hasn’t.  I have dug the ditches in anticipation of rain, but it has not rained.  I have set the sails, but the wind doesn’t blow.  So I sit in the wasteland knowing I have no ability to make it rain or make the wind blow.  I can’t make someone want to publish my book; I can’t make anyone pick up the phone and call me to speak.  So I wait in the middle of nowhere, in the wasteland, in the wilderness…at least that how it feels to me.

In the wasteland, there is death.  For me, it’s watching my dream career die, and I mean completely die.  Other times it’s the death of other dreams…dreams of marriage, dreams of having children, dreams of financial stability.  Or maybe it’s a literal death of a person or a death of a relationship.  In Luke 23, it was the death of the Son of God.  The one who represented hope to a nation.  Many watched their dream of peace and power die as Jesus hung on the cross.

Lloyd offered two “comforting” lessons from this place of mourning.  1.) God is present in our darkest moments and 2.) God doesn’t prevent the darkest moments.  Both true, yet both not exactly what I was hoping for.  In our modern Christianity, we want the doctrine that allows us to work hard enough to avoid the house of mourning all together.  We want the version where there are no more tears, and we try to make it so here on earth.  In the church, we don’t know what to do with people in mourning.  We offer trite sayings and try to see how God is going to work it all out for good.  But the truth is first there is death, painful, excruciating death.

Lloyd also said, “The essence of real hope is to lose hope in everything but Jesus and his promises.”  In his infinite mercy, God was weaning the disciples and true followers of Jesus from their false hopes of earthly peace and power.  When he died on the cross, every selfish reason they had for following Jesus had to die as well.  This is what he is doing for me.  I have lost hope in agents and publishers to help me fulfill my dream.  I’ve lost hope that building a platform will make the dream come true.  I’ve lost hope in my own ability and some days wonder if I was a fool to think I could be a writer/speaker.  And truthfully there have been very dark days when I have lost hope even in Jesus, wondering if he cared or if he loved me.

I stood in church at the end of the service praying and asking God what his promise was for me.  Often I have reminded women that the promise is his presence, that he would be with me through it all.  But last Sunday, that promise was not enough.  And then he brought to mind a different promise, one that I’m honestly afraid to share because I don’t even know if it counts as a promise.  It was I Peter 5:6 “Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time.”  This one was enough; this one made me cry.

So I will hope for a resurrection.  A resurrection that will not come on my time table or in the way I think I should.  It will be a resurrection that comes exactly when God intends for it to come.  In John 11 when Lazarus died, Mary and Martha believed that Jesus had the ability to raise Lazarus from the dead, and they knew Jesus loved him.  When Martha ran out to meet Jesus, she says she believes that Lazarus will be resurrected, if not now then at the end.  Even in their own personal wasteland, they continued to hope for a resurrection.  I think Mary and Martha would have preferred Jesus to come and heal Lazarus when he heard he was sick, but he didn’t because it wasn’t time yet.  Why did Jesus wait and not go to Bethany right away?  Why did he wait until Lazarus had died?  Why did he wait for him to be buried in the tomb for three days?  “It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”  (John 11:4)

What Jesus wanted more than anything was to glorify the Father.  Because at the proper time, the resurrection will happen and no one else can take credit for it.  No one can say “he wasn’t really dead.”  No one can say “we prayed so hard and had so much faith that God had to act.”  I won’t be able to say “I just worked really hard at it and followed steps X, Y, and Z and that’s how I became a writer/speaker.”  More than anything what I want as His Princess is for the King to be glorified.  I know the wasteland does not end in death, but in life.  I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but for now I place my hope firmly in Jesus and his promises.  That is the difference between false hope and real hope.