Everyone likes a good ride through the wilderness. As you peer out the window of the car, you enjoy seeing the grandeur of the tallest pines (or the tallest cacti if you are traveling through the desert), feel awestruck by the sheer size of granite cliffs, and keep a look out for a rare glimpse of a bear, buffalo, wolf, or mountain lion.
If you are really lucky in the southern parts of the wilderness of Arizona you might even catch the very rare glimpse of a jaguar. That would be exciting, as long as you are in a car.
But, when driving through the wilderness, you are not really in the wilderness. It is more like you are simply touring the wilderness; seeing it as if you are watching on a 3D television screen.
You would not actually be in the wilderness unless your car broke down. When your car breaks down, then you are actually in the wilderness.
It is kind of like when you attend the funeral of someone you barely knew from the community. It is good you are there. It is good to honor the memory of a person and to pay your respects, but it is like driving a car through the wilderness.
You are not actually in the wilderness of grief; just passing through seeing others in their grief struggle. You can try to say the right words, but you do not actually know what it is like to wander in this particular wilderness of grief.
You would not actually be in the wilderness of grief unless your car of life suddenly broke down and you lost that special one who had latched onto your heart. Then, and only then, are you in the wilderness of grief.
The same is true for the wilderness of cancer or divorce or financial struggle or any other wilderness of life. It is not until your car breaks down that you are actually in the wilderness.
When it does break down, then suddenly you are forced to take stock of what you have.
Do you have any food in the car? Can the car still serve as a shelter? Are there any blankets? Did you bring a phone? Are the cushions of the seats flammable?
In other words, do you actually have the tools to make it through this wilderness experience, or are you lost, wandering through the dark, with no food and no one in sight who can help or who understands your struggle?
Do you know what would be great to have in a wilderness struggle?
A road.
After-all, roads lead somewhere. Roads can bring you to a place of safety. Roads are relatively straight compared to the wanderings of someone lost in the wilderness.
In addition, even if you are too injured to follow it, that straight road might at least bring someone your way: someone who can help; someone who knows how to get through the wilderness; someone who has been there before; someone who can save you.
To those who struggle in the wilderness, the gospel writer Mark announces directly to you some good news.
“Good news,” by the way, can be rightly translated from the Greek as “good news from the battlefront.” It hearkens back to images of messengers running from the field of war with good news about the progress of the battle.
So, here, Mark is telling all of us who struggle in the wilderness that there is some “good news from the battle” or “good news from the struggle.”
And, the "good news" for you who struggle in the wilderness is: there is a road.
On some days, that alone is good news. When going through the pain of grief, simply knowing that there is a road through it is, on some days at least, hope enough. The pain that comes with wandering in the wilderness of grief is not the last word. There is a road.
When going through cancer, it is nice to know that the doctors have a road to travel. Where it leads is not known, but at least there is a road. At least there is hope.
But, Mark did not say that this is the "good news of the road." Rather, he said that this is the "beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ."
This is the beginning of the good news that says, not only is there a road through your wilderness, but there is someone who is coming down the road to meet you and to walk with you. There is someone who is coming down the road who will save you. Jesus Christ will come to meet you in your wilderness wandering.
Not only that, he will come with a tool to help you in the wilderness; the Holy Spirit. God’s very own Spirit will be with you in the wilderness.
I am here to tell you this morning that there is a road through your wilderness. There is way in your wilderness. There is an end to your wilderness wandering.
And, you do not walk alone in your wilderness either. Jesus Christ comes to walk with you in your wilderness. He knows the way. Heck, he is the way.
He is the hope for the hopeless.
He is the love for the loveless.
He is the grace for the graceless.
He is the way the truth and the life.
When it seems no one else is there, Jesus Christ promises to be right there in the middle of the suffering.
This should be no surprise to the people of faith. When we search the scriptures we find that Jesus is always with the suffering. He is always with the struggling. Wherever crosses of burden can be found so too do we find Jesus; standing on a road of new life leading away from the struggle.
Jesus Christ comes to us with good news from the battlefront. He is there to lead on the path to salvation. Jesus Christ is there to lead us back home.
“Precious Lord Take My Hand"
Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I'm weak, I'm lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
When my way grows drear, precious Lord linger near
When my light is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I'm weak, I'm lone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home (lead me home)
Songwriters: Thomas A. Dorsey
Take My Hand Precious Lord lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc
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