The Call to Return

Read: Joel 2:12-13
 
            As we turn the calendar to February, our spiritual landscape undergoes a significant shift. We are moving from the high, solid ground of being "Unshakeable" into the more rugged and honest terrain of our new series, "The Wilderness Road: A Journey of Repentance and Reorientation." For many of us, the wilderness is a place we naturally try to avoid because it represents vulnerability, uncertainty, and a loss of our usual comforts. We prefer the paved roads and the well-lit paths of certainty, yet in the biblical tradition, the wilderness is not merely a place of wandering; it is the sacred space where the noise of the world is silenced, and we are forced to confront who we truly are in the presence of God. This week, we begin our trek by listening to a powerful and urgent invitation from the prophet Joel that we are calling "The Call to Return."

            Our scripture for this week, Joel 2:12-13, begins with a phrase that serves as a vital lifeline for anyone who feels they have strayed too far: "Yet even now." When Joel wrote these words, the people of Israel were reeling from a devastating locust plague that had stripped their land and their spirits bare. It was a moment of absolute national crisis where many felt that God had turned away or that their past failures had finally caught up with them. They were in a "wilderness" they didn’t ask for and didn't know how to survive. Yet, in the middle of that desolation, God speaks words of radical hope. This "yet even now" means that no matter how deep the wilderness feels or how far we have drifted, there is no point of no return. God is not waiting for us to find our own way out of the desert before He speaks; He is inviting us to turn toward Him in the very midst of our struggle.

            The call to return is specific and visceral, as Joel instructs the people to return to the Lord with all their hearts, with fasting, weeping, and mourning. He offers a direct challenge to the superficiality of religious performance when he commands them to "rend your hearts and not your clothing." In the ancient Near East, tearing one's clothes was a standard outward sign of deep grief or repentance. It was a dramatic, visible performance of sorrow that everyone could see. But God, speaking through Joel, makes it clear that He is less interested in our outward displays of piety and more interested in an internal breaking. To rend the heart is to allow the Holy Spirit to break through the protective layers we have built up—the pride, the self-sufficiency, and the masks of "having it all together"—so that God can reach the raw center of our lives. Repentance, on the Wilderness Road, is not about a temporary change in behavior to avoid a strike of lightning; it is a profound reorientation of our entire being toward the Source of Life.

            The motivation for this return is found in the breathtaking description of God’s character that follows. We are invited back not to a stern judge who is looking for an excuse to condemn us, but to a God who is gracious, merciful, and slow to anger. The text says He is "abounding in steadfast love," a translation of the Hebrew word hesed, which refers to a deep, covenantal loyalty that refuses to let go. This is the "why" behind our repentance. If we thought God was a distant deity waiting to scold us for getting lost, we would stay hidden in the brush of the wilderness. But when we realize that God is "relenting from punishment" and eager to welcome us home, the road of repentance stops feeling like a path of shame and begins to feel like a path of liberation. We aren't running away from a threat; we are running toward a Refuge who has been waiting for us all along.

            Walking the Wilderness Road this week does not require us to have the entire journey mapped out, but it does require us to take the first step of reorientation. This might mean carving out a few moments of intentional silence in a world that is perpetually loud. In that space, we can ask ourselves the hard questions: What direction is my life currently facing? Have I been more concerned with the outward "clothing" of my faith than the internal state of my heart? As we journey together through this month, let us hold onto the promise that the road is never too long and the wilderness is never too deep for the grace of God to find us. The call to return is an open door, and the first step is simply deciding to turn our faces toward the One who is abounding in love.