Much, much later in my life, I had a similar experience. Except this time, much like the Jesus story we heard today, I felt led into this wilderness by the Holy Spirit. I accepted a call to ministry in the Iowa Conference of the UCC, left everything and everyone and took off. Again, Iowa geographically and literally speaking is certainly no desert and if the residents there heard it referred to by either term they would be appalled. Iowans are offended by the constant confusion of their fine state with Ohio and Idaho, and tire of the question as to whether they are the state that grows potatoes. Still, and again, the new place

was strange and barren territory for me at first. One of the people on the search committee who had been to West Virginia could sense my homesickness for the mountains. She immediately invited me to her farm in Northeast Iowa, where there are rolling hills, and high cliffs over the Mississippi River. A calf was born while I was there, and she named it after me. What better welcome could one receive? So I was beginning to see that the nurture of friendship was there and that there would be a hill or two or three in my new territory. A friend had found and tapped a rock, and the waters of life spewed forth.

But where on earth in Iowa would I find living waters, the spiritual nourishment I sought? How would I come to know God in this land that seemed to be designed for me to be the spiritual nurture for everyone else? As I psychologically sat on my rock, dug my toes into the sand and began a very large pout, a special message dropped into my lap. I could not believe my eyes! I read it again! Could this possibly be true? I sat dumbfounded.

A year or two before I moved to Iowa, I had discovered a book entitled Fresh Bread by someone named Joyce Rupp. It was a book to help its readers learn disciplines of prayer. The thesis of the book was that we need prayer daily just as much as we need bread daily. I had devoured the book as if the pages themselves were fresh, warm bread. And, I had wished and prayed that I might someday meet Joyce. Before I moved to Iowa I had a Spiritual Director or Guide named Dorothy Gentry Kearney. Many of you know her. And in my mind, she is wonderful. I knew I would not find another Dorothy. But when I first arrived in Iowa I asked where I might find a Spiritual Director, thinking something was better than nothing. This note/gift that landed in my lap announced that Joyce lived nearby and would indeed be my Spiritual Director. There would be spiritual waters in the desert.

Both of my wilderness experiences were characterized by my own fear of thirst and hunger in a new and strange place. The loneliness of the experience was jolting and unsettling. But of all the places I have been in my life, these were the times I grew the most. These were the times when I had to struggle with the temptations to be someone other than who and what God intended. As a child in Hyattsville I had to struggle with a new extended familyÆs definition of me and then come to some definition of me that was my own. In Iowa I struggled through divorce and what that meant for who I was. I struggled with new responsibilities in ministry that had not been a part of my job description. I was called upon to do things I never thought I could do. In all of this I grew, and saw my life unfold in some wonderful ways. These were times when I felt named and claimed by God. So that wherever I went from there, I would be on the path God had paved for me.

That is what wilderness journeys do. Wilderness, under the guise of desert dryness, is the home of waters that spring forth and abundant manna. While away from the familiar, there is a testing and a shaping, in which the person or community is named and claimed by God. Wilderness wanderers are sent forth from that space to live differently. As we come into the story of the Israelites today, they are ready to leave their wilderness journey. But before they leave they tell the story of their naming and claiming by God one more time, and charge one another to tell it yearly and to return to God a portion of what God has given them as a confession of faith. Jesus is tempted to misuse his power for personal gain, for political and religious reasons. As he turns down those offers, he becomes clear of his call and task, leaves the wilderness and begins his ministry.

We have referred to this time out of our building as a wilderness time for CCC. The staff and the Board of Deacons have chosen ôWildernessö to be our Lenten theme. So there will be other sermons on this topic. During this time of wilderness journeying, rather than abandoning us at this time, we can expect God to lead us though the wilderness, to provide manna and water, and to name us and claim us. That will happen as we live differently, try new things, hold hands as we walk the path, meet in all our little tribes sharing our faith and life stories. Then when we leave this place, we may know more clearly who we are and whose we are. We may discover that our ministry has begun anew. Amen.