As I read the lectionary text for Advent this week (Luke 3:1-6), I have in mind an old shack, deep in the woods. Maybe it was a home, a cabin to some frontier family generations ago, but it has been empty for years now. The wood is bleached and weathered. The rock from the fireplace crumbles. Windows are all missing. Birds nest in the rafters. The whole structure leans, verging on collapse. What was once a home, providing warmth and safety, is being retaken by wilderness.

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar—when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene— during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet:

“A voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.
Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill made low.
The crooked roads shall become straight,
the rough ways smooth.
And all people will see God’s salvation.’”

(Luke 3:1-6, emphasis added)

We tend to think about wilderness as a place, but a shack is a visible reminder that wilderness is a force. Wilderness is always pushing back against order and security, working to reclaim or retake any ground it loses. If we could step back a century or so and watch a time-lapse shot of that frontier home as it weathered into as shack, we would be watching wilderness at work.

Sometimes wilderness moves slowly like that, but sometimes it is dangerously fast. We were reminded of that a few weeks ago by those terrible fires in California. So many people lost everything so quickly.

During Advent, and much of the rest of life, we find ourselves wanting a God who will subdue wilderness.

That’s what Israel wanted. They had a tortured relationship with wilderness. Wilderness is where Adam and Even were sent in their disobedience. Wilderness is where Israel roams before being allowed into the promised land. Wilderness is where Israel is exiled repeatedly.

Israel wanted the God who parted the Red Sea. The God who shows up and pushes back wilderness once and for all. That’s what they—and we— want as we wait for the promised King at Advent.

Only … that’s not what we get. The God we find here is not overpowering wilderness but speaking there: “the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.”

The word of God comes in the wilderness, not upon it. Not against it. At least, not yet.

So, what do we do with that?

Well, we wait.

But while waiting, do not overlook something plainly evident in this Christmas story: God often has something to say in the wilderness. Maybe that is where God says the most. Or maybe it is only because the wilderness strips us bare and makes us vulnerable so we can hear God there.

I’m not encouraging you to head into the wilderness and go looking for God this Christmas (“Baby, it’s cold outside…”). You don’t have to go looking for wilderness. It will find its way into your life.

But God is very likely to be there as well. Perhaps with a word for you.

Many have read The Shack by William P. Young. It’s a story about a dad who has experienced unimaginable loss. He is lead to an old dilapidated shack, where great tragedy happened. He is overcome by grief there. Yet, it is there that he has profound experience with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. Sure, it is a fiction, but I can’t but help but think how true it is.

A shack is exactly the kind of place God finds us, and the place where this Christmas, we hope Jesus Christ will come to dwell with us in.