In the midst of a pandemic that feels urgent and terrifying, I find myself wandering around. Feeling lost. Directionless. Uncertain. I’m wandering in the wilderness, wondering what’s best. What’s needed. Looking for a reason to change out of PJs into sweats and put a little makeup on. And maybe make the bed.
I realize this may not be you at all. Because you may have young children at home now. Your days may be filled with schooling and entertaining these little ones. Maybe while you also try to work from home, care for neighbors, stay calm. Or maybe you’re a healthcare provider or grocery store employee. Thank you for all of it. For all you’re doing. Bless. It’s a lot. Just so much. You are experiencing a very different kind of wilderness.
But here, all my deadlines are gone. The days are unstructured. (What day is it again?) And I have no idea what’s important for today because I have no idea what’s coming tomorrow. Or how long all this will last. Or whether I’ll find chicken at Kroger.
So I try to find ways to be productive. When this health crisis began to hit home, I literally tore my office apart, throwing out garbage bags full of files and things I don’t need anymore, and reorganizing nearly everything. My attempt to bring order into the chaos. But there are only so many projects in my house. And most of them aren’t that interesting to me.
Which leaves me with more than the usual quiet and the temptation to try to fill it with order and structure and to-do’s. And I realize again how much of my identity is rooted in the doing.
What if this time we share in the wilderness offers us a gift? The gift of our own undoing. What if it opens the doorways to our souls? The place where we find our true selves again. Where we find one another again. Where we find God again. Or maybe for the first time. Or maybe in a new way. What if we find a new way to be ourselves? To be together? What if there’s mercy in the pruning?
Honestly, it feels like it’s too soon to offer the words “gift” or “mercy” into the chaos. Because there’s so much pain right now. So much fear, anxiety, uncertainty. All of this is real. We feel it deeply, the groaning in our world. We can’t rush or push or work our way past it (although some will try). We must first hold this space together, acknowledge the fear and loss, and find a way to walk together through it. Loving, serving, praying, we will find the way through.
So maybe, for now, the word “mercy” is best offered as a prayer. An ancient prayer, the cry of the Church through the centuries. Kyrie eleison, "Lord, have mercy." I often pray this simple prayer in this expression:
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
God have mercy.
This mercy has been given in Christ and is given again to us anew each morning by the One who is making all things new. He comes as mercy to meet us with mercy which each new breath.
Take a moment to slow down and pray this prayer now as a breath prayer. Pray each phrase with a single, deep breath, an inhale and exhale.
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
God have mercy.
Express your heart openly. Honestly. Hold nothing back. Then pray the breath prayer again.
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
God have mercy.
Now take a few moments of quiet to listen. To remember God’s faithfulness in the past. To look for his faithfulness today. To allow your heart space to move back toward trust. Then pray the breath prayer one last time.
Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
God have mercy.
Grace and peace to you, beloved. May you find mercy in the wilderness.