A Compass in the Wilderness

As the year of our Lord 2020 drew to a close, I kept thinking, This is it; it’s almost over; we’re almost to the finish line. I knew in my head that the clock wouldn’t reset at the stroke of midnight on December 31, and 2021 would magically be a return to “normal,” but in my heart, I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to wake up on January first and discover 2020 was a bad dream. The year had felt like a long slog through the wilderness, and if we could just make it to the promised land of 2021, I thought, everything would be OK.

However, hoping that it will all just be OK is a false hope. By putting our faith in leaders and hoping we’ve made the right choice, we place too much importance on people who will eventually disappoint us. By pointing the finger and placing blame for our problems on groups who don’t align with our ideologies, we have forgotten to take the log out of our own eye before pointing out the splinter in everyone else’s. By refusing to acknowledge and repent of racism, classism, and nationalism (along with any other isms that separate us into categories of haves and have-nots) sown by our forefathers which have grown into thornbushes, we will never truly heal the deep wounds those sins have caused over generations.

At the risk of sounding like a Debbie Downer, I present the theory that the turmoil of 2020 was a precursor to wandering the wilderness into 2021 and beyond. The proverbial promised land we are hoping for—economic prosperity, political harmony, steady jobs, full bellies—will always be a dream on the horizon until everyone and not just a select group can walk into that land together.

Until we can read God’s Word through the lens of the oppressed and marginalized, instead of from a position of power and abundance, we will not be able to see clearly the way through this wilderness.

Take the book of 1 John, for example. It was written to encourage John’s brothers and sisters in Christ to live in the truth of the life of Christ, to put love into action by taking care of each other and, in turn, know God better through that love:

Do not be surprised, brothers and sisters, if the world hates you. We know that we have passed from death to life because we love our brothers and sisters. The one who does not love remains in death. Everyone who hates his brother or sister is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life residing in him. This is how we have come to know love: He laid down his life for us. We should also lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has this world’s goods and sees a fellow believer in need but withholds compassion for him – how does God’s love reside in him? Little children, let us not love in word or speech, but in action and in truth. (1 John 3:13-18 NIV)

If we read 1 John from a place of authority, power, majority, and privilege, it is easy to say, Well yes, of course we should love each other and never give it a second thought. It’s easy to point fingers to perceived false profits and say they are leading the flock astray. As a straight, white, married woman with a comfortable house and reliable income, it is easy for me to look back on 2020 with dismay and wonder what went wrong, point at these verses and say, See, we should just all get along instead of tearing each other down.

But what if we read those verses through the eyes of a single mother who works long hours and can hardly make the rent, who knows she can’t keep her children fed and clothed? Or the woman who believes she has no escape from an abusive relationship? What happens when those verses are read from the perspective of someone who is kept around as the token black friend but is told to keep quiet about the racism she has experienced and just get over it? How does this love in action translate to the person who is cast out from church and family for coming out of the closet?

The phrase, Don’t be surprised, brothers and sisters, if the world hates you may have a very different meaning if you have been cast off from church family for not towing the party line or for daring to speak up for yourself when the world wants you to know your place because they perceive you as a threat to their seat of power.

What does any of this have to do with the wilderness looming ahead of us in 2021?

Everything that went wrong is 2020 should have been a warning sign of how easily things can fall apart if we persist in only viewing the gospel in a mirror instead of through a window. The wilderness persists because we are reaping what generations planted years and decades and centuries ago: greed, racism, pride. But being in the wilderness does not mean we have to eat that bitter fruit. What if we read the Bible through a new lens and planted new seeds that our grandchildren would gladly harvest?

I expect 2021 to be just as troubling as 2020 because repentance, forgiveness, and reconciliation take time. But the good news is that we are not left in the wilderness without a compass: love God, love neighbor. Maybe if we share our compass or learn to use someone else’s, the wilderness to come won’t be as scary as the one we just left.

Stephanie Clinton is a writer and blogger but more importantly, a wife and mother to two little boys. In her free time (if there is any) she can be found wiping snotty noses and volunteering in her community and school. Learn more about Stephanie along with her passion to encourage women and lighten their load at www.hugskissesandsnot.com.

Photograph © Jordan Madrid, used with permission