I get really excited when it comes to things like Advent, Easter and Lent (yes, even Lent). I want to do ALL THE THINGS in preparation and celebration. I won’t just attempt one Lent study, for example, … I’ll pick TWO. (Please note the use of the word attempt.) I have plans and visions and busy myself with them in the beginning when, I think, the real point is to slow down and empty my hands. To look around and take a deep breath. To soak it all in.
A few days ago I was reading about Jesus going into the wilderness after getting baptized (Matthew 4 if you want to join me) and I had one of those “wait a second” moments as I realized that Jesus walked into the desert with empty hands.
No supplies, no just-in-cases, definitely no back-ups. I look at myself in a coffee shop this morning and I have a laptop, Bible, book, journal, planner and Lent guide within reach. I have water AND coffee. I have two bananas in my purse for crying out loud. I just have to laugh and admit I am most comfortable planning for the unknown and the just-in-cases. I like knowing there’s a safety net before I walk out. Jesus, though, He walked empty handed into that desert. And that amazes me to no end.
I mean, Jesus could have definitely pulled together a rucksack of supplies if He wanted, but He walked into that desert empty-handed to be tested. I like to think of it as one last push of preparation. He goes into the desert to have anything unnecessary cut, shaved and sanded off. He goes in empty handed to make sure the heart and mind that come out of the wilderness are completely keen to what really matters, to be absolutely ready for the launch of His public ministry. He was going to spend days and nights – many of them – in the desert alone. And He went unguarded and hands open.
That’s a test I never want to replicate, but how He did it, I think, is by knowing He actually did have a safety net — His Father. He knew the Father and His character, how He acts, His heart. Jesus knew the Father loved Him and was with Him — even in His humble life as a human. Also a part of His safety net? The very words they had crafted for all of humanity to base their lives on — promises of God’s provision, care and love, His perfect order for all of life. Jesus has those surrounding Him.
I, traditionally, am terrible at following customs and traditions like Lent and Advent. I talk and plan big in the beginning and then usually sputter out somewhere in week two. But I want to enter this wilderness time of Lent 2020 and keep going, because 40 days of sitting close to Jesus, especially close, sounds too good to pass up. I want to drop my safety nets of everyday extra — paddings of entertainment and noise, plans and backup plans — in the hopes that I sit stiller, quieter and hear Him as I repeat His promises into the wind. I want to drop my safety nets in the hopes that it gives God the opportunity to cut, shave and sand off a little more of the unnecessary from me. Because even though I may be empty-handed without a plan b or backup banana, I am, we are never alone. Never.
