Wilderness (Meditation 52)

A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,   make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” Isaiah 40:3

Something in the way a wonderful lector read this passage recently made me take notice of words that could have just sped past me, having read and heard them so much. When the service was over, I picked up the page the reading was printed on and took it home. Then I compared it to several translations and found most had punctuated this verse pretty much the same. 

Most Christians have heard these words from the prophet Isaiah in connection with John the Baptist. They are referenced in all four of the Gospels, with John even applying them to himself in one version (John 1:23). We hear these words read at church, and note that they mark the transition between the end of the ministry of John (who would soon be killed) and the beginning of Christ’s ministry.

It may not mean much of anything in terms of interpretation, but I have noticed that the passage in Isaiah and the quotes of it in the Gospel have a telling difference: In the Gospels, the voice is in the wilderness crying out. In Isaiah, the verse places the quote marks around the phrase “In the wilderness” and connects it to the rest of the injunction: “prepare the way of the Lord.” That is, in the Old Testament book, the prophet is telling the people to “make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” In the Gospels, the prophet is already there.

Perhaps this strikes you as the ramblings of a punctuation nerd. Maybe it is. But I could not help but sit up and draw my inner eye to the passage because of the difference in what I heard and what I am used to hearing. 

The wilderness is where we meet the Lord. It is there we are stripped of all we think we need, and even much of what we do need. It also where we are to prepare for Jesus’ entrance into the lives of our fellow sojourners. John the Baptist called both the mighty and the humble to repentance in a literal wilderness. Each of us lives in a wild and barren place, either one of little resources or one of the heart and mind. We meet God here and in this way because, I think, in the wilderness, we can more easily understand that every other power is nothing. Here, if we open our spiritual eyes, we are most receptive to God’s power, which is love, not for what we have or can do, but for who we are: dry and broken vessels of His handiwork.

Lord, we are barren of thought and deeds and power without You. May we awake in our various wildernesses and find You always ready to receive us. In Christ’s holy name, Amen.

Michael Neal Morris teaches English at Eastfield College and is the author of Based on Imaginary Events, Release, Music for Arguments, and other books. A book of prose poems (for now, dimly) is forthcoming from Faerie Treehouse Collective. His poems and stories have been published in both traditional print journals and online magazines. He lives with his wife, children, and two snarky cats outside the Dallas area.

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