“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness” – Luke 4:1

When I was feverishly in love with God, full of vision, I ,too, sought the desert. I fasted, observed the hours, and even toyed (in my head) with taking vows.  I probably would have if Mennonites had Benedictine communities.  But our conceit was that all disciples are fervently faithful–we are, after all, a priesthood of all believers.

Infatuated, even the silliest visitations of Presence stimulated a rise in spirit.  Every word in a verse fed my lust for the One I ached to ravish me.  I might be hungry, but who had time to turn stones to bread, while He filled me with mysterious manna?  The wealth and power of nations paled in the brilliance of my Lover’s gaze.  Yes, I would have flung myself down had He even hinted I should.  But not for some cheap trickster who had the gall to imply I might not be His beloved.

I left that limerent wilderness long ago. I get hungry sometimes. While I still have no need for “all the kingdoms of the earth,” a little power and security could come in handy to see my Old Soulmate and me through deserts to come.  I am too old to comfortably climb the pinnacle, much less jealously throw myself from it.  I quit testing God long ago.  I need not jump to be caught.  I am already in the right arms.

I remind myself of that, when I get nostalgic for the desert.  We have traveled a long distance from the Jordan.  Jerusalem is close for both of us.  I am, for the most part, okay with that.