John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”
At that time Jerusalem, all Judea, and the whole region around the Jordan were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins.
— Matthew 3: 1-2, 5-6
Sometimes, my life seems like such a tremendous mess that it’s beyond salvaging. Perhaps my sins are beyond the reach of God’s mercy. The harder I try, the worse things seem to get. There are days when I feel kinship with the demoralized Charlie Brown in A Charlie Brown Christmas. I want to wail, like he did, that the situation is hopeless because “everything I touch gets ruined!”
Of course, these lies I tell myself are the complete antithesis of Christian hope. Although it’s often forgotten in the joy—and stress—of the secular holiday rush, Advent is a penitential season. It’s a time of repentance. A time when we should meditate on where our lives really stand before God. Not in fear of punishment, but in expectant hope of salvation.
How can I be freed from the lies of scrupulosity and despair? John the Baptist shows the way. The way of the desert. Many Christians throughout the history of the Church have followed his example—quite literally! Saint Anthony of Egypt and the other Desert Fathers and Mothers of the early centuries found wisdom and holiness in the austere beauty of the wilderness.
One of my favorite saints is Charles de Foucauld, whom I’ve written about at length elsewhere. Foucauld left behind a life of selfish wantonness to become a hermit priest in the Sahara. He ministered in poverty and radical obscurity, far from civilization, until he was murdered by violent partisans who suspected he was a French spy.
Deserts are places of simplicity and silence. That’s why the holy men and women have sought them out for centuries. Free from attachments and distractions, they could hear and be directed by the “still small voice”1 of God. They could discover the what was truly necessary for salvation—aligning their lives with God’s will. Repentance, divesting ourselves of sins and disordered attachments, is part of this process.
Obviously, I don’t feel called to literally leave my suburban life and go live in a desert somewhere. But the lives John the Baptist, Anthony of Egypt, and Charles de Foucauld can still inspire practical Advent devotions for you and me, right now, right where we are.
Here are three simple practices you might try in the next few weeks:
Take a one day a week (perhaps Sunday) off from the distractions of social media. Silence the apps on your phone. Spend some of the time you would have spent scrolling in quiet prayer instead.
Seek out a local Adoration chapel or a church that reserves time for the Blessed Sacrament to be exposed. Spend a holy hour in prayer and silence before our Eucharistic Lord. Listen for his “still small voice.”
Find some quiet time in the evening to make an examination of conscience. Light a candle and ask God’s forgiveness for the sins you have committed. Ask the Lord to show you which disordered attachments he is asking you to renounce. Make time to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation before Christmas.
Seek out God “in the desert” this Advent with confidence. God’s mercy is yours for the asking. In my worst moments I may moan that “everything I touch gets ruined.” But in the silence of quiet church or in my home “prayer corner” before dawn, I remember that everything God touches is renewed.
The daily Scripture readings can be found on the USCCB website.
Cf. 1 Kings 19:11-13
Advent is like a mini Lent. This reflection really helped me.