Walking with Jesus

40 Days in the wilderness.

Every Ash Wednesday, Jesus extends his hand and invites me to join him on a journey out into the wild places. We walk. We talk. We get deep. The wilderness opens my eyes again to life. To beauty. To danger. To courage.

After many days of adventuring and struggling, we climb a hill and sit and rest. Jesus turns his head and gazes out. Our time in nature is almost done. Down in the distance, the city bustles. We sit in silence taking in the view.

Then Jesus stands up. He shakes the dust off and turns to me

"Are you coming?"

He is calm. His eyes steady. His face warm with peace and love.

I well up inside. I fight. I struggle. I don't want to go. I don't want to let Jesus down. For all the courage I think I've gained out here, this single moment reveals all my fears and inadequacies.

He starts off. Dust unfurling under his sandals. He's heading to Jerusalem. He's heading to the cross.

I know he goes with love. I know Easter awaits on the other side and so does Pentecost. He's explained it to me many times. When we were way out in nature surrounded by God's creation, enveloped in God's presence, it made so much sense. It was easier to swallow.

But here, now. It's real. A terrifying pill to swallow. Can't there be some other way than this?

What will I do? Will I climb in the boat with the other disciples? Can I find the courage to follow him? His gentle words echo in my head:

"Pick up your cross and follow me. When you lose your life, you will find it"

Jesus, your way is hard. Your love is deep.