A man will be as a hiding place from the wind, and a cover
from the tempest, As rivers of water in a dry place, as the
shadow of a great rock in a weary land.
Isaiah 32:2
One curious fact that I still remember from third grade geography class is that in the Sahara Desert, it gets to be 120° F in the shade. “Boy,” I thought to myself, “I bet people try to stay out of the shade as much as possible.”
My impressions of the desert greatly changed when, as an adult, I saw one for myself. On the arid wasteland, the sun is so intense you can fry an egg on a rock. There’s a lot of wind, but it doesn’t cool. It just pushes hot, dry air on your face. No trees grow anywhere, and the only shade that can be found is what you bring for yourself.
The only relief from the hostility of the elements is found in the mountains at the very edge of the desert. Great walls of rock rise high above the burning sand and break the fury of the furnace-like air. Overhangs and huge cracks in the stone capture the coolness of the previous evening, and the shadow of a great rock can provide a place of refuge from the heat even at noonday.
This sin-ravished world is like the desert. It’s a hard and unsympathetic place. We are like sun-scorched travelers who are burned by their own ungodliness, as well as by the sinfulness of others. When the burden gets really heavy and life seems almost unbearable, people don’t want religion or even reformation; they want rest. Jesus said, “Come to me… and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
Beneath the cross of Jesus
I fain would take my stand,
the shadow of a mighty rock
within a weary land;
a home within the wilderness,
a rest upon the way,
from the burning of the noontide heat,
and the burden of the day.
– Elizabeth Clephane (1830-1869)
July 2
