Lent is a time when we think about Wilderness.
Jesus, we are told, spent forty days in that inhospitable and disorientating environment, being tempted by the devil.
It was customary in those days that stories of great leaders always had a sort of ‘Wilderness’ preamble describing a time, before they were famous, of struggle; during such days their character was formed.
‘Wilderness’ has become for us a metaphor for those times in our lives when our faith and character is tested. Such a process isn’t exceptional but the normal route that life takes us.
Whilst on a safari holiday last August in Tanzania we travelled through the Serengeti. Just the sheer size of this National Park gives it something of a wilderness feel. We drove for miles on dusty roads through the scrub and there was a sinister beauty about it all.
All of a sudden, we heard a loud thud from underneath the jeep and I think we all knew instantly that we were in for an interesting couple of hours. We had broken down on the edge of the Serengeti on our way to our next game lodge outside of the Park.
What happened next, although not on the official itinerary, became one of the most memorable moments of our trip; and a sort of parable about how we might cope with wilderness.
We were certainly in something of a fix. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Indeed, some of our fellow passengers had already, in their minds, compiled a letter to the tour company to tell them so!
How were we to get out of this difficulty? Well, three aspects to the solution soon became apparent.
The first was that our driver, whose responsibility it was to get us to the next lodge safely, didn’t have to cope with this incident alone. Even in the Serengeti he was able to use his mobile phone, contact a garage who sent out a van with three ‘mechanics’; and all of this just took half an hour.
However, the truth is the next thirty minutes was spent with these four men fiddling with the broken wheel, scratching their heads, standing back from the van, and then having another fiddle! For a time, this ‘community’ just shared the problem rather than solved it! But that isn’t a bad lesson. Sometimes we cope best with our struggles, at least initially, just by sharing them with others on the journey. The fix may not be instant, but the fact that we have friends around us to help carry the burden is a blessing in itself.
Yet, eventually in the Serengeti, that sense of community did win through. That’s because the group of mechanics needed a machete knife to finish the job. They hadn’t brought one out with them but the third jeep they hailed down to ask for help just happened to have such a knife under the driver’s seat.
Facing the problem with others was stage one in finding a solution to our wilderness dilemma.
So with machete at hand our mechanics knew what to do – well it looked that way! A new-found sense of confidence seemed to come over them and we sensed that maybe jeeps like ours had broken down in the Serengeti before! Using the imagery of a journey we might even have said: people had walked this way before us.
Our own experience, or when that is missing, that of other people can be a great support in a time of crisis.
I remember when one of our sons was taken to Birmingham Children’s Hospital under a blue light with peritonitis how relieved we were to hear the surgeon say to him: Matthew I’ve done hundreds of operations like the one you need, and now I’m going to do one on you!
Whenever we are in the ‘wilderness’ the comfort and counsel of others who have walked a similar path can be a great encouragement. Experience is a great teacher. It can teach us not to panic and rush to premature conclusions. It helps us deal with the moment calmly.
In the Serengeti wilderness I realised just how important facing our problems in community and drawing on experience is.
The last lesson I learnt that day was that often the resources closest to us are the best.
You might be wondering what our ingenious African mechanics wanted with the machete? We were puzzled to!
They went off into the scrub, chopped down a branch, honed it and then divided it into two. They inserted a piece either side of the wheel to stabilise it just enough to get us to the next lodge. Incredible as it might seem it did the trick and we travelled the next 50 miles with our back wheel being supported by a scrub branch!
We often look for complex answers but sometimes the strength we need is closer to us than we think. It often comes in the love and loyalty of those around us and in the everyday trust in God that can form the best backdrop to our lives.
This Lent, as I ponder ‘Wilderness’ my mind wanders back to the Serengeti where our challenge that day was faced by relying on community, learning from experience and using close at hand resources. I suspect they are useful tools in any wilderness moment, whether the struggle be physical or spiritual.
Jesus, we are told, spent forty days in that inhospitable and disorientating environment, being tempted by the devil.
It was customary in those days that stories of great leaders always had a sort of ‘Wilderness’ preamble describing a time, before they were famous, of struggle; during such days their character was formed.
‘Wilderness’ has become for us a metaphor for those times in our lives when our faith and character is tested. Such a process isn’t exceptional but the normal route that life takes us.
Whilst on a safari holiday last August in Tanzania we travelled through the Serengeti. Just the sheer size of this National Park gives it something of a wilderness feel. We drove for miles on dusty roads through the scrub and there was a sinister beauty about it all.
All of a sudden, we heard a loud thud from underneath the jeep and I think we all knew instantly that we were in for an interesting couple of hours. We had broken down on the edge of the Serengeti on our way to our next game lodge outside of the Park.
What happened next, although not on the official itinerary, became one of the most memorable moments of our trip; and a sort of parable about how we might cope with wilderness.
We were certainly in something of a fix. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Indeed, some of our fellow passengers had already, in their minds, compiled a letter to the tour company to tell them so!
How were we to get out of this difficulty? Well, three aspects to the solution soon became apparent.
The first was that our driver, whose responsibility it was to get us to the next lodge safely, didn’t have to cope with this incident alone. Even in the Serengeti he was able to use his mobile phone, contact a garage who sent out a van with three ‘mechanics’; and all of this just took half an hour.
However, the truth is the next thirty minutes was spent with these four men fiddling with the broken wheel, scratching their heads, standing back from the van, and then having another fiddle! For a time, this ‘community’ just shared the problem rather than solved it! But that isn’t a bad lesson. Sometimes we cope best with our struggles, at least initially, just by sharing them with others on the journey. The fix may not be instant, but the fact that we have friends around us to help carry the burden is a blessing in itself.
Yet, eventually in the Serengeti, that sense of community did win through. That’s because the group of mechanics needed a machete knife to finish the job. They hadn’t brought one out with them but the third jeep they hailed down to ask for help just happened to have such a knife under the driver’s seat.
Facing the problem with others was stage one in finding a solution to our wilderness dilemma.
So with machete at hand our mechanics knew what to do – well it looked that way! A new-found sense of confidence seemed to come over them and we sensed that maybe jeeps like ours had broken down in the Serengeti before! Using the imagery of a journey we might even have said: people had walked this way before us.
Our own experience, or when that is missing, that of other people can be a great support in a time of crisis.
I remember when one of our sons was taken to Birmingham Children’s Hospital under a blue light with peritonitis how relieved we were to hear the surgeon say to him: Matthew I’ve done hundreds of operations like the one you need, and now I’m going to do one on you!
Whenever we are in the ‘wilderness’ the comfort and counsel of others who have walked a similar path can be a great encouragement. Experience is a great teacher. It can teach us not to panic and rush to premature conclusions. It helps us deal with the moment calmly.
In the Serengeti wilderness I realised just how important facing our problems in community and drawing on experience is.
The last lesson I learnt that day was that often the resources closest to us are the best.
You might be wondering what our ingenious African mechanics wanted with the machete? We were puzzled to!
They went off into the scrub, chopped down a branch, honed it and then divided it into two. They inserted a piece either side of the wheel to stabilise it just enough to get us to the next lodge. Incredible as it might seem it did the trick and we travelled the next 50 miles with our back wheel being supported by a scrub branch!
We often look for complex answers but sometimes the strength we need is closer to us than we think. It often comes in the love and loyalty of those around us and in the everyday trust in God that can form the best backdrop to our lives.
This Lent, as I ponder ‘Wilderness’ my mind wanders back to the Serengeti where our challenge that day was faced by relying on community, learning from experience and using close at hand resources. I suspect they are useful tools in any wilderness moment, whether the struggle be physical or spiritual.
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