Superblooms

During my sabbatical this summer I took my daughter Annika to a wonderful retreat center called Holden Village in the Cascade mountains of Northeast Washington. A few years ago, The Village had been surrounded by wildfires and Holden itself was at risk of losing everything and everyone who lives there. Thankfully the village was evacuated, and hotshot firefighters came in to save Holden from destruction. This was my first time there since that fire and I was shocked by what I saw. Blackened trees, leaves gone, but trunks standing tall. Spaces for miles that were burnt out—destroyed it seemed. It was not the thriving, green mountainside I had seen on my other trips to Holden.

We quickly learned from the staff that though fire is destructive, it is also restorative. That in the wilderness, fire is a good thing (except when it interferes with humans). That fire is expected to happen. That fire needs to happen, so the wilderness can be restored. While we were there, they pointed out signs of new life happening all around. Where I could see only destruction and despair, my eyes were opened to hope, renewal and new life.

Another wilderness place where new life was in full display was in California last spring. After a long rainy season in the fall and an unusually cold winter season, some wilderness areas experienced a rare “super bloom,” an event so spectacular it could even be seen from space. Thousands of tourists showed up to see the amazing colors spread across hills and valleys—various shades of purples, greens, oranges and yellows covered what was usually a very dry, dusty brown landscape.

One writer said, “For a few brilliant weeks the world was transformed into one gorgeous living Van Gogh landscape.” But don’t expect a super bloom to happen again in 2020, or anytime soon, because super blooms are super rare, and only happen when the earth has laid dormant for many years. Harsh, undesirable conditions over many years pave the way for the stunning explosion of blooming color. What once looked dead has come to life, sparking wonder and amazement.

And now, in the dead of winter, we get a scripture text from Isaiah that proclaims to those living in exile under the harshest conditions, the unexpected and life-giving good news from God.

“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and singing… The eyes of the blind shall be opened; and the ears of the deaf unstopped; The lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongues of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert.”

Imagine this word of hope and promise coming to the people who are in exile, living in despair, just making it from one day to the next, wandering in the desert and wondering where God is in the midst of it all. The prophet speaks clearly and prophetically about the Holy One’s presence. The desert is blooming with color, it is quenched with fresh waters and lush foliage. The blind people see, the lame skip, the deaf hear music and laughter. Talk about hope in the midst of hopelessness!

And don’t we need a word like that for us today too? We need to hear again God’s promise to make all things new. The season of Advent is a time of hopeful waiting and anticipation, but for some it is also a season filled with much sadness and hopelessness. Suicide attempts and admissions to mental health facilities increase during the holiday season. And for those who are waiting with hope and expectation for their own special baby, but experience pregnancy loss, this season (when so much is focused on the birth of a child) can be down-right unbearable. And for those who are receiving cancer treatments or experiencing job loss or unemployment during the holidays it feels like a dry desert with nothing blooming on the horizon.

I bet we can all relate our own stories of isolation, fear, despair and doubt; and not only during the season of Advent. We need to see signs of hope, even when surrounded by despair and uncertainty. We need to have our tongues untied to sing songs of praise. We need our ears unstopped to hear the good news. We need our own eyes refreshed to see God here; now.

But like John the Baptist we get stuck in our own prisons of doubt and despair and ask, “Are you the one Jesus? Or are we to wait for another?” It seems like an odd question coming from John. He’s the one who knew Jesus was Messiah, even before they were born, and he leapt in his mother’s womb. John was the one who announced, “See someone is coming who is greater than I am.” John is the one who had his whole life pointed to Jesus as the promised one. And now, from his prison cell he wonders, ‘Where’s God? Is this it?’

And Jesus responds in love and compassion, not judgment. Instead of saying, you know that I am, or simply saying yes. Jesus says, look around you, “tell what you see and hear. The blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear and the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

Jesus encourages John, and therefore us too, to notice the unexpected ways that God is near. To see with our own eyes and hear with our own ears and experience in our own lives the powerful and often surprising ways that the One who is to come, is already here among us now.

In this great children’s book, Maybe God is Like That Too, a young boy wonders where to find God in the city. His grandma reminds him that he just needs to know where to look. She says, wherever you see love, joy and peace, God is there. Wherever there’s patience, kindness and goodness, God is there too. When you see faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, that’s God’s spirit at work.

Ans then at school he gets a hug from Grandma before saying goodbye and he says, “That’s what love looks like to me. Maybe God is like that too.” On the swings he pumps his legs fiercely so his swing goes higher and higher, then he laughs with delight. “That’s what joy looks like to me. Maybe God is like that too.” Throughout the book he names regular everyday interactions that look like peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness and each time he declares, “Maybe God is like that too!”

The book ends “I saw God over and over again today. I saw God’s spirit at work. I didn’t see God the way I see my friends or the streetlights, or the river, but I see God’s spirit all around here in the city.”

Whether the wilderness we experience is here in the city, or in the burned down yet thriving mountains in Northeast Washington, or the desert blooming in the southwest, or the wilderness life experienced by John the Baptist, in a community of faith and a meal of bread and wine, God’s life-giving spirit is all around us. Look around you. Tell what you see and hear. God is giving us rare signs of super blooms and unexpected surprises along the way.