Being Watchful for Desert Blossoms

When we don't receive what we pray for or desire, it doesn't mean that God isn't acting on our behalf. Rather, he's weaving his story. Paul tells us in Colossians 4:2, "Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving." Thanksgiving helps us to be grace-centered, seeing all of life as a gift. It looks at how God's past blessings impact our lives. Watchfulness alerts us to the unfolding drama in the present. It looks for God's present working as it unfolds into future grace.

Watch for the story God is weaving in your life. Don't leave the desert. Corrie ten Boom's father often reminded her, "The best is yet to come."

Excerpt from 'The Praying Life,' by Paul E. Miller

Please pray that I would devote myself to prayer, being watchful for desert blossoms, with a heart full of gratitude and lips that would praise Him.

Thriving in the Desert

The hardest part of being in the desert is that there is no way out. You don't know when it will end. There is no relief in sight.

A desert can be almost anything. It can be a child who has gone astray, a difficult boss, or even your own sin or foolishness. Maybe you married your desert.

God customizes deserts for each of us. Joseph's desert is being betrayed and forgotten in an Egyptian jail. Moses lives in the Midian desert as an outcast for forty years. The Israelites live in the desert for forty years. David runs from Saul in the desert. All of them hold on to the hope of God's Word yet face the reality of their situations.

The theme of the desert is so strong in the Scripture that Jesus reenacts the desert journey at the beginning of this ministry by fasting for forty days in a desert while facing Satan's temptation. His desert is living with the hope of the resurrection yet facing the reality of his Father's face turned against him at the cross.

The Father turning his face against you is the heart of the desert experience. Life has ended. It no longer has any point. You my not want to commit suicide, but death would be a relief. It's very tempting to survive the desert by taking the bread of bitterness offer by Satan - to maintain a wry, cynical detachment from life, finding a perverse enjoyment in mocking those who still hope.

God takes everyone he loves through a desert. It is his cure for our wandering hearts, restlessly searching for a new Eden. Here's how it works.

The first thing that happens is we slowly give up the fight. Our wills are broken by the reality of our circumstances. The things that brought us life gradually die. Our idols die for lack of food.

The still, dry air of the desert bring a sense of helplessness that is so crucial to the spirit of prayer. You come face-to-face with your inability to live, to have joy, to do anything of lasting worth. Life is crushing you.

Suffering burns away the false selves created by cynicism or pride or lust. You stop caring about what people think of you. The desert is God's best hope for the creation of an authentic self.

Desert life sanctifies you. You have no idea you are changing. You simply notice after you've been in the desert awhile that you are different. Things that use to be so important no longer matter.

After a while you notice your real thirsts. While in the desert David writes:
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as a dry and weary land where there is no water. (Psalm 63:1) The desert becomes a window to the heart of God. He finally gets your attention because he's the only game in town.

You cry out to God so long and so often that communication begins to open up between you and God. When driving, you turn off the radio just to be with God. At night you drift in and out of prayer when you are sleeping. Without realizing it, you have learned to pray continually. The clear, fresh water of God's presence that you discover in the desert becomes a well inside your own heart.

The best gift of the desert is God's presence. We see this in Psalm 23. In the beginning of the psalm, the Shepherd is in front of me - "he leads me beside still waters" (verse 2); at the end he is behind me - "goodness and love will pursue me" (verse 6, NIV); but in the middle, as I go through "the valley of the shadow of death," he is next to me - "I will fear no evil, for you are with me" (verse 4). The protective love of the Shepherd gives me courage to face the journey.

Excerpt from 'A Praying Life' by Paul E. Miller

Longing

I longed to walk along an easy road,
And leave behind the dull routine of home,
Thinking in other fields to serve my God;
But Jesus said, "My time has not yet come."

I longed to sow the seed in other soil,
To be unfettered in the work, and free,
To join with other laborers in their toil;
But Jesus said, "'Tis not My choice for thee."

I longed to leave the desert, and be led
To work where souls were sunk in sin and shame,
That I might win them; but the Master said,
"I have not called thee, publish here My name."

I longed to fight the battles of my King,
Lift high His standards in the thickest strife;
But my great Captain bade me wait and sing
Songs of His conquests in my quiet life.

I longed to leave the uncongenial sphere,
Where all alone I seemed to stand and wait,
To feel I had some human helper near,
But Jesus bade me guard on lonely gate.

I longed to leave the round of daily toil,
Where no one seemed to understand or care;
But Jesus said, "I choose for thee this soil,
That thou might'st raise for Me some blossoms rare."

And now I have no longing but to do
At home, or else afar, His blessed will,
To work amid the many or the few;
Thus, "choosing not to choose," my heart is still.

- A selection from 'Streams in the Desert' by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman