The Desert

& Other Good News

Stories

By Dan Ward
 Published by Silly Hat Press
New York
2007
Visit us online at www.lulu.com/SillyHat

All scripture references from

New American Standard Version

“My Left Knee” originally appeared in

Gilbert Magazine and is reprinted with permission.

“The Mountain of Wisdom” originally

appeared in RogueProjectLeader.com
and is reprinted with permission.

Copyright © 2007 by Dan Ward

Cover photographs © 2007 Gabe Mounce
Interior artwork © 2007 Mandy Hoelmer
 “Bunnies are, too, good,” said the wolf.
“Bunnies can hop and they are very warm.”

- From Barrington Bunny

The Way Of The Wolf, by Martin Bell
Dedicated to my family,
with whom I share this
joyful, wondrous journey.
 Table Of Contents

The Break Master Is Coming 1

The Desert, A True Story 3
The Dessert, A Brother Mustard Story 11
Credo 16
Why The Apostles Were Silent 17
God Loves Sinners 23
My Left Knee 29
In the Morning 33
The Rule of St. Isaac 34
Mikey’s Jesus Suit 41
A Meditation On Patience 47
The Break Master Arrives 51
Playing The Telephone Game 53
Brother Mustard’s Chores 56
The Word and the Words 60
A Psalm 65
Playing Telephone Again 68
The Boy Who Wasn't Crying Inside 69
At The Gates 75
For God's Sake 79
Brother Mustard’s Prayers 80
Searching The Scriptures for Questions 84
The Mountain of Wisdom 87
The Worst Candle 93
A Meditation on Difficulty 96
The Dropper 102
The Rest Of God 109
A Brief History of the Suburban Fathers 111
Brother Mustard & Jesus’ Basketball Team 117
Stones in the Scriptures 121
Job at Five, A Brother Mustard Story 125
A Prayer For Rain 129
Brother Mustard and the Sandwich 130
Tax Collectors and Prostitutes 134
The Streetsweeper King, part 1 & 2 137
The Break Master, Part 3 145
A Note Of Thanks 149
 The Break Master Is Coming

The Break Master is coming, and that’s a

scary thing. You see, The Break Master breaks
things. Actually, he breaks everything. That’s
what he does.
I am afraid he’s going to break down my
door when he arrives. He will surely break some
windows. He will probably break a wall, or
maybe all the walls. He will even break the floor.
As I said, the Break Master breaks
everything.
He will break my car and my bike, and I
will not be able to get away. He will break my
stuff. Oh, my precious stuff. I hope he does not
break my stuff, but he probably will. That is what
he does – he breaks things.
Then, no doubt, he will break my legs.
He will break my arms. He might break my eyes.
He might break my guts and I won’t be able to
1
 The Desert
eat or drink anymore. My teeth will not be safe
either, and I really hate that. I don’t understand
why he has to break my teeth, but I am pretty
sure he does. I really don’t want him to break my
teeth.
There is nothing he can’t break.
There is nothing he won’t break.
He is the Break Master.
He will not stop there. He will break my
certainty. He will break my confidence. He will
break my heart, I know he will. Even my mind
and my knowledge will not be safe from the
Break Master. He will break those things too.
The Break Master is coming, and that’s a
scary thing. You see, The Break Master breaks
things. Actually, he breaks everything.
That’s what he does.

(to be continued)

2
 The Desert
A True Story

Not long ago, in a place not far away,

there was a desert. In that desert, there lived a
group of people. This group was a special group,
because once a week, sometimes more often,
sometimes less, they would get together at a well
in the middle of this very dry desert.
At the well they would talk and sing.
They drank the water and enjoyed the shade.
After a while, they would fill their canteens and
continue their wanderings in the desert.
One day, a young man, a traveler, came to
the well. He sang the songs and drank the water
like everyone else, but to him, the songs sounded
dead, and the water seemed flat, especially
compared to the songs he had heard and the
water he had drunk in his travels. This didn’t feel
3
 The Desert
right to the young man, and he left the well
feeling troubled.
He wandered through the desert, and after
a week, he returned, but it was the same.
“What can I do about this?” he asked
himself. “Is there a way that I can add life to this
well? I can’t very well create sparkling water, but
He who created all things created this well as a
source of sparkling water. The people of the well
have forgotten what water is supposed to be like.
The younger ones might not even know!”
So, the traveler went to a quiet place in
the desert where he could be alone, and he began
to think. He thought and thought, and his thought
was a prayer to the Creator.
“Oh Lord,” he prayed, “I have drunk
living water, and I want to share it with the good
people of the well. Show me how to do this. Tell
me what to do.”
The Creator, in His Wisdom and Mercy,
spoke one word, but one word was enough. The
young man fell to his knees and praised the
Loving Creator. He spent the night
contemplating the word, under the starry desert
sky. In the morning, he knew what to do.
During his contemplation the night
before, guided by his Creator, the young man had
remembered that at one time, somewhere in his
travels, he had had a shovel. He knew that if he
4
could find the shovel again, or somehow get a
new one, he could dig the well deeper. But he
lived in a desert, where wood and metal were
scarce, and shovels even more so.
He set off on a quest for his shovel.
Weeks stretched into months, and at times, the
young man despaired of ever finding anything.
The Adversary tried to prevent the traveler from
finding it, but the Creator prevailed and at the
appointed time, he found his shovel.
Excited, he raced back to the well,
making plans as he went. The young man
realized he was only one person, and although he
was young, he knew he couldn’t dig forever.
When the whole group was gathered again, the
young man asked for help.
He said “Hey! Hey! I think there is more
to this well than meets the eye. I think there’s
better water down there, just waiting for us. And
I have a shovel. I’m going to dig. I’m going to
find this living water. But I can’t do it by myself.
I need help. It’ll be hard work, but it’ll be worth
it.”
Some people volunteered to help, though
none of them had shovels. One person had a rope
and a bucket, which she said they could use to
carry the sand out of the well and to carry water,
eventually.
Many weeks passed. As the group came
and went, the workers began to uncover signs of
5
 The Desert
sparkling water. It was little signs at first, and the
work was sometimes slow going, but the signs
were there.
Eventually, the day came when the
workers found the deep, clear, sparkling spring
the young man had envisioned. They were
tremendously happy, and they danced around and
hugged everyone. The whole group showed up at
the well later that day, and wondered why the
small band of workers was so happy.
You see, although the sparkling, living
water was there, some of the people of the well
still couldn’t see it. They were used to the dull
taste of water, and didn’t want anything different.
They couldn’t find anything different because
they weren’t looking for anything different. The
difference in the water was as much a product of
their own expectations and efforts as it was a
property of the water itself.
“Come and drink of this living water!”
the workers called, while some people just turned
away, muttering about strangeness and changes.
Others seemed not to hear at all, as they drank
the sparkling water which turned dull in their
cups. But many did hear, and many did drink,
and the songs and talks that day were full of life
and love and praise for the Creator.
The young man was so filled with the
living water that he couldn’t stop smiling. There
was more water than he had ever dreamed of
6
finding, so much that people could actually swim
in it.
But the story does not end here. The
traveler realized his job was not finished; indeed,
it had just begun. Now that the water was there,
people had to be told about it and invited to
drink. So he did invite them, and they came.
The number of people who knew about
the water grew, and people were more filled with
the Spirit of the Creator.
The traveler was grateful to the Creator,
and the whole group gave glory to the Creator,
who had blessed them so much. Life at the well
was good, for a time. But somehow, some of
them began to forget about the Creator, and
instead glorified the shovel.
“The shovel is so good,” they would say.
“It brought us clear water.”
“The shovel is good,” the traveler replied,
“But the Creator is the one who gave us the
water.”
Some of the others ignored him. They
took the shovel to a new area and began to dig.
There was no water in that area, only sparkly
desert sand. These others began to call the sand
“water,” even though it did not quench thirst like
water.

7
 The Desert
“It sparkles and can be poured,” they
insisted. “Our water is just as good as your
water.”
“It’s not my water,” the traveler protested,
“It is the Creator’s. Your ‘water’ is just sand.”
But the others did not seem to hear.
Then, one of them declared “The shovel
is mine. It no longer belongs to you, Traveler.
You cannot use it.”
The Traveler didn’t know what to do. As
he was walking one day, lost in thought, he
stumbled onto the group who had taken his
shovel. They were using it to put sand into the
well, because they said the sand was water!
“You must stop!” the Traveler cried.
“Sand is not water! You’re clogging up the
well!”
“We must do nothing,” they replied.
“Sand is just as good as water. Didn’t the Creator
make sand too? And He made a lot more sand
than water, so he must like it better. We think the
sand belongs in the well.”
“But it doesn’t belong there! The shovel
is for getting the sand out!”
“We can use the shovel for what ever we
want, because it’s ours.” they said. Then, to the

8
9
 The Desert
Traveler’s surprise, they broke the shovel in half.
The next day, they were gone, and the well was
clogged with sand.
The Traveler wept as he saw what they
had done. He sorrowfully called together those
who still knew the difference between sand and
water. They spent the night under the starry
desert sky in prayer together, and continued
praying when the sun rose.
For forty days and nights, under sun and
moon, this small band of diggers prayed. The
Creator heard, and He answered their faithful
prayer. In the morning of the last day, the first
rays of sunlight glinted off of twelve shiny new
shovels.
“It’s a miracle,” they declared, as they
began to dig again...

10
 The Dessert
An Introduction To Brother Mustard

When they measured his faith, it was

smaller than that of any other novice ever to
enter the monastery of St. Barnabas, so they
called him Brother Mustard Seed. But when they
saw how much he loved to eat, they shortened
his name to Brother Mustard.
It is not that he ate a lot – he was no
glutton. He simply ate with zest, joy and
thanksgiving. The funny thing is, he didn’t like
mustard, but the name stuck.
As the years went by, Brother Mustard’s
faith grew into a bush-sized faith, large enough
for the birds of the air to make their nests in. This
was a blessing for the entire community.

11
 The Desert
Brother Mustard would tell parables and
stories to his fellow monks, using new images to
convey ancient gospel truths. Pilgrims came
from far and wide to listen to him speak.
One evening after supper, Brother
Mustard taught the assembly, saying:
On a hot summer night, when the supper
was ended, the Apostle whom Jesus loved said to
Jesus, “Master, may we go out for ice cream?
Behold, we each ate a good dinner. Even
Matthew, who is a picky eater, has eaten his
vegetables and his plate is clean.”
“I tell you the truth, we shall get some ice
cream this very night, because your plates are
clean,” Jesus replied, “but not all of your plates
are clean.” (For He knew Judas had hidden some
broccoli in his napkin).
So He took the Twelve out for ice cream,
for the weather was warm and the Apostles had
pretty much behaved themselves all day long.
“How do I know they won’t run out of
my favorite flavor?” asked Thomas as they
walked.
“I say to you, do not be anxious about
what flavor of ice cream you shall eat,” Jesus
answered, “Look at the birds of the air. They do
not sew, neither do they reap nor churn cream
and sugar and berries together at cold
temperatures, yet your heavenly Father feeds
12
them. Are you not worth much more than many
birds?”
And Thomas was content, for now.
“We should give the ice cream money to
the poor,” said Judas. Now, he said this, not
because he was concerned about the poor, but
because he was a thief, and as he had the money
box, he used to pilfer what was put into it.
“The poor you will always have with
you,” replied Jesus, “But you will not always
have Me.”
“Shouldn’t we be fasting or something?”
asked Andrew.
“While the bridegroom is with them, the
attendants of the bridegroom do not fast, do
they?” explained Jesus patiently. “So long as
they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot
fast. I tell you, the time is coming when you will
not eat ice cream, but tonight, you shall.”
When they arrived at Isaac’s Ice Cream
Shoppe, Jesus turned to Simon, called Peter.
“Try the Neapolitan, Peter. It is quite
good, and has three flavors together.”
“Surely not, Lord! For I have never eaten
unclean ice cream,” Peter replied [for the temple
leaders had forbidden the mixing of ice cream
flavors, nor did they permit the chocolate and the
strawberry to touch or intermingle.].

13
 The Desert
“Do not consider unclean what God has
made clean,” Jesus answered with a grin. This
happened three times, then Peter ordered two
scoops of Neapolitan, which he enjoyed a great
deal.
After paying for the dessert, Jesus saw a
man with an ice cream headache, who had eaten
his ice cream too fast.
“Was it because of his own sins or the
sins of his parents that this man got an ice cream
headache?” asked James.
“Neither. It was so that the works of God
might be displayed in him,” said Jesus. Then He
reached out His hand and touched the man.
Instantly, the ice cream headache left him, and
the crowd was amazed.
Some children came around, asking Jesus
for ice cream, and the disciples rebuked them.
But Jesus called for the children and
bought ice cream for them all, saying:
“Permit the children to come to Me, and
do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God
belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you,
whoever does not receive the kingdom of God
like a child receiving an ice cream cone shall not
receive it at all.
And He taught them with this parable.

14
 “The kingdom of God is like a child
seeking an ice cream cone. Upon hearing the
music from the ice cream man’s truck, he went
and asked of his father for some money (for he
had none of his own).
“His father did give the money, and also
some for his little sister. The father also went
with the child to stand by the side of the road,
and did wave his arms at the driver so as to make
him stop.
“For what man is there among you, when
his son shall ask him for a cone, will give him a
stone? If you then, being evil, know how to give
good gifts to your children, how much more shall
your Father who is in heaven give what is good
to those who ask Him!
“I tell you the truth, there will be more
joy in heaven over one sinner who repents and
receives the ice cream of grace than over ninety-
nine righteous persons who need no repentance.”

And then Brother Mustard brought out a

box of ice cream sandwiches, which he shared
with everyone.

15
 The Desert

Credo

I believe I believe in God.

I hope I believe in God.
I believe in hope.

I believe I believe in grace.

I hope I believe in grace.
And if I don’t believe in grace,
I believe in grace anyway.

So I believe I believe
in God
and His grace.
And I hope that is enough.
I believe it is.

16
 Why The Apostles Were Silent

Matt 16:21-22: From that time Jesus

Christ began to show His disciples that
He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer
many things from the elders and chief
priests and scribes, and be killed, and be
raised up on the third day. And Peter took
Him aside and began to rebuke Him,
saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This shall
never happen to You.”

When Jesus predicted his death, only

Peter disagreed. Poor Peter, we all think. So rash.
So quick to speak. But what about the remaining
eleven? Were they all perfect models of
theological sophistication? Did their silence
mean they understood and agreed with Jesus,
while Peter blundered along, alone in his
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 The Desert
ignorance and immaturity? Or were there other
reasons for their silence?
It turns out, one of them wasn’t too sure
he believed Peter’s pronouncement some
moments earlier, about Jesus being the Christ.
And if Jesus wasn’t really the Christ, it was only
reasonable to think He would be killed. The
priests and scribes always seemed to kill people
who thought they were the Messiah. This Apostle
was not surprised, so he was silent.
Another Apostle didn’t think Jesus meant
he would be literally killed. He thought Jesus
must be speaking metaphorically and this was
just another parable. What could “death” stand
for, he wondered. It could mean persecution. It
could mean exile. It could mean... almost
anything. This one was not troubled, so he was
silent.
A third Apostle wasn’t paying attention.
He was bored after praying for so long, and was
still in a daydream as the Master spoke. He
wasn’t a bad man - just easily distracted. He
didn’t hear what Jesus said, so he was silent.
The fourth Apostle heard Jesus’
prediction and was stunned. The Messiah, the
real Messiah, would be killed? He was so
surprised that he missed Christ’s final words,
about being raised to life. How could Jesus be
killed, he wondered? What will become of us?
The fourth became scared, and so he was silent.
18
 The fifth was very practical. He
conveniently forgot to hear the word “must,” and
he began making plans to prevent Jesus’ death.
“If we go to Egypt...” he mused. “If we get some
swords...” or “If we try hard enough to convince
the leaders...” He was busy making plans to save
Jesus, so he was silent.
The sixth heard Jesus’ prediction and
immediately wondered whose fault it would be.
One of the others will be responsible for His
death - probably Matthew, the ex-tax collector,
will do it out of greed. Or Peter, out of stupidity.
Or James and John will shoot off at the mouth
again and get us all killed. The sixth apostle was
too busy looking for someone to blame, so he
was silent.
The seventh, well, the seventh was
hungry. It had been a long time since the loaves
and fishes. They had prayed for a long time too.
He couldn’t help it, really. He just got hungry
sometimes. And when he was hungry, it was hard
to concentrate. He knew Jesus was talking about
something serious. The chief priests were going
to be killed, maybe? He was sure he’d hear about
it all again, after he got some food, so he
patiently stayed silent.
The eighth agreed with Peter. He’d heard
it all, believed it all, and he didn’t want Jesus to
be killed. When Peter began speaking, the eighth
was relieved. “You tell Him, Peter,” he thought

19
 The Desert
to himself. “Straighten Jesus out. That way I
won’t have to say anything. That way I don’t
have to make any waves.” The eighth one was
content to let Peter speak for him, so he was
silent.
The ninth Apostle didn’t like Peter at all.
Oh boy, he thought, there goes Peter again. He
thought Peter was stupid, blunt and tactless.
Peter was too unrefined to be a good Apostle.
How dare he argue with Jesus? I sure hope Jesus
lets him have it this time, the ninth one thought.
He continued a well-worn litany of Peter’s weak
points, foibles and failures. He was too busy fault
finding to say anything.
The tenth was a thinker. Jesus is going to
die and be raised up - what does that mean?
What are the theological implications? Where
will He be while He’s dead? Will we recognize
Him when He comes back? What will happen
after that? If He comes back to life once, will He
die again later? If so, then what? This one was
full of Big Questions and didn’t know which one
to ask first, so he stayed silent.
The eleventh one, and I think you know
which one he is, had another agenda entirely. I do
not know why he did it. I do not know when
Satan entered him, or how. I do not know
whether he did it for the money or just because
he was tired of wandering around, or any of a
dozen other possible motives. For whatever

20
reason, Judas was silent, as he made plans to
contact the temple leaders.
This brings us back to Peter. Strong,
passionate Peter. He believed Jesus was the
Messiah. He knew their enemies were strong. He
loved Jesus and did not want Him to be killed.
So he stood up, pulled Jesus aside and told Him
not to talk that way. You’re the Messiah, Jesus!
We won’t let You get killed. You’re the Anointed
One, the Mighty King. I don’t know what you
mean by “be raised,” but I understand “be killed”
and I don’t like the sound of it, not one bit.
Please, Jesus, don’t talk that way.
So Jesus rebuked Peter, and he deserved
it. Peter’s vision was too low, and Jesus needed
to raise it. His understanding was incomplete,
and Jesus needed to broaden it. But his
enormous, warm, impulsive, foolish heart was in
the right place. With time, his vision and
understanding would improve. His passion
would be focused.
I know I am not worthy to wash the feet
of these Apostles, particularly wonderful Peter.
But at the end of they day, each one was just a
man. Each one had a long way to go on their path
to maturity and understanding and love.
I have a long way to go on my journey as
well. I just hope that if I’d been there that day, I
would have stood with Peter; poor, passionate
Peter.
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 The Desert
I hope I would have at least said
something.

22
 God Loves Sinners

God love sinners. Is there any happier

news? Let’s read those three words again, this
time a little bigger:

God
loves
sinners.
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 The Desert
See, here’s the thing. Jesus Christ was not
a moralist - He was a lover. He did not come to
Earth in order to set an example of ethical
excellence. That is indeed one of the things He
did, but it was not His purpose. His purpose was
to love. Specifically, His purpose was to love
sinners.
It's shocking, I know.
Scandalous.
I think that is why they killed Him.
Imagine… an estranged brother shows up
at the doorstep on Thanksgiving Day. Piles of
food are on the table – far more than enough for
all – and this brother is hungry.
Not only is he hungry, he is here, right
this minute, in the middle of Thanksgiving
dinner. It is shocking, I know.
Scandalous.
Where is his sense of propriety?
What should the family do? Ask him to
go away and come back tomorrow? Insist on
working through all the psychological issues and
emotional pain and damage before we share table
fellowship, while the turkey grows cold? Or
should we just eat… together?
That would be shocking, I know.
Scandalous. But I don't think anyone would kill
us.
24
 When we reject relationships with people
because of their failures, we are worse than the
prodigal son’s older brother. We are like the
Pharisees who criticized Christ for eating and
drinking with sinners. They wanted Him to set
the tax collectors and prostitutes straight before
eating with them and communing with them…
before loving them.
He refused.
They wanted condemnation in the name
of moral excellence. He gave grace in the name
of Love. They wanted justice, in the name of the
Law. He gave love and acceptance and
friendship, in the name of the Father.
He gave himself. It was shocking, I know.
Scandalous.
More than a little embarrassing, no doubt.
I think that is why He did it. I think that is why
they killed Him.
He did not excuse the sins of these tax
collectors and hookers. No, but He set their sins
aside as they all gathered together for a meal. He
would deal with sin later, on the cross. The
shocking, scandalous, embarrassing cross.
At that moment (and at every moment
thereafter), what mattered was loving the people,
the people who were hungry for so much more
than bread. In truth, His love at the table dealt

25
 The Desert
with their sin far more effectively than the
condemnation which the Pharisees demanded.
In the story of the prodigal son, the father
loved the older son with as much passion as the
younger, and for the same reason – simply
because he was their father. He spoke words of
grace and acceptance to the son who stayed, just
as he did to the son who strayed.
And Jesus loved the Pharisees as much as
He loved thieves and murderers, because
whether they knew it or not, the Pharisees were
sinners too.
Jesus knew this, and as I have said, Jesus
loves sinners. It is shocking that He would, but
He does. Scandal be damned – He keeps right on
loving sinners.
Jesus loves gay people and straight
people. He loves people who commit adultery
and He loves people who walk around with lust
in their hearts, wishing to commit adultery. He
even loves people who walk around with no lust
in their hearts whatsoever. It's shocking, I know.
Jesus loves killers and robbers and
gangsters. He loves people who walk around
with murderous anger in their hearts, and He
loves those who have no passion in their hearts at
all.
Scandalous!

26
 He loves dictators and scoundrels. He
loves the people who hurt you. He loves the
people you don’t love. And He loves you…
whoever you are.
I think that's why offered Himself up and
let us kill Him.
We too often misunderstand Paul’s
admonitions on how to deal with a brother who
sins against you. He says to first talk with the
person who has committed the offense. If that
doesn’t work, take it to the church. If that doesn’t
work, treat that person like a sinner.
Like a sinner?
Indeed.
Like a sinner, who is loved by Jesus
Christ.
It' s shocking, I know.
It's scandalous.
It's the Good News.

27
 The Desert

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from

God; and everyone who loves is born of God and
knows God.
1 John 4:7

28
 My Left Knee
A Meditation On The Body Of Christ
(with apologies to St. Paul)

I have an embarrassing story to tell. Two

days ago, my right foot tripped over a rock (I
guess I wasn’t watching where I was going) and I
fell down, skinning my left knee. I limped home
and went into the bathroom, where my hands
cleaned and bandaged my left knee. The
embarrassing part isn’t that I was so clumsy –
rather, it’s the size of the bill my hands sent my
left knee “for medical services rendered.”
Apparently, my hands were feeling
overworked and under-appreciated. They thought
they deserved to be paid for their efforts. My
hands live pretty far away from my knees most

29
 The Desert
of the time, and since they are not exactly
neighbors they felt they had gone above and
beyond the call of duty. “It’s not like it was an
elbow, you know,” my right hand said.
As I’m sure you can imagine, my left
knee didn’t have any money. But, the bill had to
be paid, so it did the only thing it could do in this
situation - it sued my right foot, which as you
recall, tripped over the rock in the first place.
Well, my right foot wasn’t going to take
the blame (and it didn’t have any money either),
so it pointed a finger, so to speak, at my eyes for
not providing sufficient warning. Now, my eyes
are relatively close to each other and they
cooperate most of the time, but they do have
different perspectives and they began a deep,
philosophical debate over which eye should have
noticed the rock.
As the blame passing continued, my
hands became more and more insistent they
ought to be paid. They actually threatened to go
on strike. Meanwhile, realizing the lawsuit
against my right foot was probably not going to
produce any money, my left knee moved up
about 12 inches and accused my right knee of
intentionally causing the right foot to stumble.
Because they are so similar, my knees
have always been somewhat competitive with
each other. Still, the left knee’s conspiracy
theory took things to a whole new level. It
30
actually accused the right one of scheming to
destroy or cripple the left one, in an effort to
increase the body’s dependency on the right one
and therefore elevate its importance (since it
would then be the only functional knee
remaining).
It is an absurd theory, but some other
parts of my body thought it was valid and called
for a formal investigation to be led by my
shoulder blades, presumably because they would
bring a different point of view to the quickly
deteriorating situation.
This was getting to be too much. My
hands staged a work slowdown, my eyes weren’t
speaking to each other, my knees were trying to
out do each other and my shoulder blades had
convened an investigative sub-committee headed
up by a particularly disagreeable molar.
I guess all the stress was just too much
for my right foot, because it wandered off last
night and didn’t leave a note. Half my body
doesn’t even want to go look for it, figuring we
are better off without such a clumsy appendage.
And now I’m starting to get a stomach ache - I
wonder what that’s all about...

31
 The Desert

And the eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no

need of you”; or again the head to the feet, “I
have no need of you.”
1 Cor 12:21

32
 In The Morning

“Daddy, I got sick last night. It was dark

and I was scared. I called you but you didn’t
come.”
“Oh, kiddo, I was there. I did come. I
came even before you called. It was dark and you
were scared. Your eyes were shut, and you did
not see me. You threw up and I held the bucket
for you. It was dark and late and you were tired.
You fell back to sleep right away. And I was
there. All night long, watching over you. I was
there.”

33
 The Desert

An Excerpt From
The Rule of St. Isaac of Lafidonia

St. Isaac of Lafidonia, called Abba Isaac

by his contemporaries, was the founder and
spiritual leader of a monastery in the middle of
the North African desert (modern day Egypt). He
established this community and its Rule around
180 AD. He was one of several early leaders
known today as the Desert Fathers.
Members of his community called
themselves the Silly-Hatted Merry Monks of
Lafidonia. These holy men practiced a
communal life that emphasized fellowship,
hospitality, grace and humor. They made and
drank excellent wine, and their work apparently
also involved teaching children through the use
of comic drawings and puppets. Their trademark

34
silly hats are still in use in many parts of
Christendom, even today.
Archaeologists recently unearthed some
incomplete scroll fragments from the monastery.
Most of the scrolls contain a complex series of
knock-knock jokes which, while remarkably
funny, only work in Latin and are not translated
here.
The scroll fragments contain a small
collection of Abba Isaac's sayings, along with
portions of the Rule, which offers a glimpse into
daily life among the Silly-Hatted Merry Monks of
Lafidonia.

Sayings of Abba Isaac

The way of Christ is joy and the lifting up
of our brothers and sisters.
Christ is above, so those who are
downcast see Him not, although He is always
present, and those who see Him are not
downcast. He lifts, elevates and...[text
incomplete]

Grieving over the loss of a loved one is a

sign of love.
35
 The Desert
Grieving over the sins, struggles and
pains of our companions is a sign of compassion.
Grieving over one's own difficulties is
self indulgent and displeases the Lord.
Grieving over one's own sins is
appropriate, but rejoicing over God's love and
grace is the Better Way.

Laughing with one's brothers protects

against Anger. Laughing at one's self protects
against Pride. Seeking out humor where it may
be found protects against Sloth. Sharing humor
protects against Greed... [text incomplete]

Helping your brother to laugh is a holy

denial of the self.

He who brings laughter and humor to his

companions opens the gates of Heaven and
spreads Grace.
He who understands the Love of God will
be joyful. He who is vigilant for humor and joy
worships God.

A hat which is not Silly is a hat which

hath lost its purpose.

36
 The desert blooms when laughter is
abundant. Like rain, laughter refreshes and
brings life to dry places. Like seeds, laughter
grows fruit which enriches the community. Like
wine, laughter refreshes the... [text incomplete]

From The Rule For Daily Life

Upon rising in the morning, the Monks

shalt gather and recite the Quantum Materiae
together. It goeth something like this:
Quantum materiae materietur marmota
monax si marmota monax materiam possit
materiari? [transl: How much wood would a
woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck
wood?]
... Silly Hats are to be worn, and the
making of humorous verse is to be encouraged
among the Monks.
Any traveler or visitor who shall seeketh
out the comfort of our monastery shall be
welcomed and given a Silly Hat. They shall be
granted a seat at the Table, be they man or
woman or child, and shall be welcomed into
Mirth.

37
 The Desert
...and any Monk who worketh in the
Vineyard, whether pruning or harvesting,
watering or weeding, shall do so as joyfully as
God has granted them joy, and with gratitude –
both for hands that work and for work for the
hands. They too shall be invited to wear the Silly
Hats.
The Monks shall hold converse together
over the Table, telling Silly Stories and such
jokes as seem fit and funny. And there shall be
the singing of songs which maketh men to laugh.
Forgetest thou not the Silly Hats, lest
thou be led into temptation. For the wearing of a
Silly Hat ensures the Monks taketh not
themselves too seriously, and is a reminder of
our Holy mission.
Our Lord Jesus Christ once wore a Silly
Hat, and we are called to imitate His example.
Let every one eat and drink whensoever
he wisheth, and thou shalt restrain them neither
from eating nor fasting, as the Lord God grants
them wisdom and joy.
Those Monks who art feeling gloomy
shalt endeavor to do their work nonetheless, and
shalt listen closely to the mouth of God for
words that shalt bring a smile, for the uplifting of
the Community. They shall not be compelled to
wear a Silly Hat, nor shall a Silly Hat be denied
them.

38
 Monks who art feeling gloomy shalt
attend to the humorous stories of their brothers
and any visitors whom the LORD might direct to
our humble table. They shalt also get a good
night's sleep, so as to feel better in the morning.
They shalt try to Smile, as they are able, not as
putting on a false front, but as making a sincere
decision.
All those of foul, angry, sad, hurt or other
moods are to be accepted by the Monks, in true
Christian Charity. They are to be neither rejected
nor coddled nor made fun of, nor taken too
seriously. Rather, they are to be treated with
respect, grace and humility. They are to be
offered juggling lessons, funny songs, Silly Hats
or quiet time (alone or with the fellowship of the
Monks), such as meets their needs.
The Monks shalt be instructed in the
ways of humorous drawings and puppetry, for
the encouragement and education of the local
children. Juggling shalt also be practiced by
those brothers who are able, and all are to bear in
mind that dropping a juggling ball can be as
humorous as not dropping one – and perhaps
more so.

39
 The Desert

Records from this time indicate that Christians

often lived in tombs and trash heaps on the edges
of major cities, more or less protected by their
obscurity.
- Wikipedia entry on Desert Fathers

40
 Mikey’s Jesus Suit

Early one morning, Mikey finished

drying his hair, put on his Jesus suit, and headed
out the door, into the wide desert.
The world looks quite different to a
person wearing a Jesus suit. For starters, the
colors are more vibrant, even in a desert.
Especially in a desert.
For another, real things look realer, and
false things look somewhat transparent. Mikey
couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked along and
saw the vibrant and the transparent.
Mikey walked past some boys, who
threw rocks at him because he was wearing a
Jesus suit. The rocks hit him in the back and in
the head, and Mikey cried a little. The rocks hurt
a lot, but not as much as the throwing.

41
 The Desert
“Father, forgive them,” Mikey whispered.
Some time later, after Mikey had been
walking through the desert for a while, an older
man suddenly stood in front of him, barring his
way and not laughing at all. He poked a heavy,
somewhat transparent finger into Mikey’s chest,
and spoke loudly.
“This isn’t your suit. How can you wear
this suit? It doesn’t fit you at all – take it off right
now!”
“I don’t know how to answer you, sir. I
was given this suit, and even though it is too big
for me, I am supposed to wear it. But if you
would like to have it, I will gladly give it to
you.”
“How dare you!” the man replied. “No, I
don’t want your suit. I have one just like it at
home, hanging in my closet. I’ve had it for years
– it used to belong to my father, and I must say it
fits me very well indeed. Did I say ‘just like it’?
No, mine is much nicer. Cleaner. There aren’t
any tears or stains in mine. No dust or sand –
probably because I tend to stay out of the desert
when I'm wearing it. But my point is this: you do
not know what you are doing in that suit of
yours. You are not worthy to wear that suit.”
“True,” replied Mikey.
“Bah, I can’t argue with you! Such
arrogance!” The man stomped away.
42
 Mikey walked along. He saw two people
talking together near a little desert lake. They
looked up, and one said “Hey, nice suit. Where
did you get it?”
“Thanks,” Mikey replied. “It was a gift.”
“Cool. Oh, wait a minute – it looks like
the hands are torn,” said one
“No, they are supposed to be that way.”
“Oh. Is it comfortable?” asked the other.
“Yes and no,” Mikey smiled. “Yes, but
probably not in the way most people think of
comfort.”
“Oh.”
“Would you like to have it?” Mikey
asked.
“I don’t know if it’s my size,” said the
first one.
“No, it’s not your size,” answered Mikey
with a laugh. “Jesus suits are always a bit big,
but don’t worry. You’ll grow into it, although as I
said, it will always be big. And if you thought it
would fit you perfectly, I think you would find it
too small.”
“Oh. I don’t understand.” said the other
one.
“I know,” replied Mikey. “That's alright.”

43
 The Desert

44
 “But I would like to try it,” that one
added.
“Me too,” said the first one.
So Mikey took off his Jesus suit,
complete with dusty, sandy bare feet and torn
hands, and handed it to the two people. They
each put it on, and saw that Mikey was wearing
one still.
“Cool,” said Andy.
“Yeah,” said Pete.
Mikey walked on, his two new friends at
his side. Pete told a funny joke, and they all
laughed so loud that some birds were startled and
flew away.
They started singing a song, then looked
at the road ahead, where they saw a still figure
laid out in the sand on the side of the road. It was
a little boy, and his limbs were sprawled at
awkward angles. They ran to him.
A dozen rocks scattered around the area
told a sad tale of pain and rejection, a sorrowful
story of throwing. Mikey reached out his Jesus
hands, wiping sweat, grime and blood from the
boy’s forehead.
“Is he breathing?” asked Pete.
“Yes,” answered Mikey.
“Will he be ok?” asked Andy.

45
 The Desert
“Yes,” answered Mikey. “Yes, but maybe
not in the way most people think of ok.”
The boy still grasped a rock in his right
hand, the same hand that once cast stones
towards Mikey. Nobody knows why the other
boys decided to make this boy their new target.
“Little Pauly,” Mikey said, “Give me
your rock.”
The rock slid from Pauly’s hand, and he
groaned quietly.
Mikey picked up the rock and threw it
into the desert, where it was never seen again.
Then Mikey put his Jesus suit on Pauly
and helped him stand. The enormous suit made
Pauly look tiny and huge, all at once.
Mikey adjusted the Jesus suit he still
wore, making sure the beautiful torn hands and
lovely dusty, sandy feet were still on securely.
Smiling broadly, accompanied by his
three friends, he walked on.
Pete told another joke.

46
 A Meditation On Patience

My dad says to be careful when you pray

for patience, because God answers prayers. My
dad says that if you ask God to give you
patience, He will not only give it to you, He will
also give you opportunities to exercise and use
this new gift, and that can be difficult. My dad is
right, of course, as dads often are.

God is the most patient one of all. It’s

amazing how patient He is. It’s maddening how
patient He is. That is, His patience with me is
amazing and wonderful. His patience with other
people can be maddening and disturbing.

47
 The Desert
See how patient God is with that guy over
there? That evil dictator who murdered and
oppressed and displaced and raped and violated a
whole country’s worth of people, for decades and
decades? Why should God be patient with that
guy?
Or look at that child molester, who left a
damaged trail of dozens, or maybe hundreds,
over the years. Why should God be patient with
that guy? How dare God be patient with that
guy?

What about the gossip, the glutton, the

greedy – the people who commit sins (and are
committed to committing sins) which I would
never commit. It just doesn’t seem right that God
would be patient with those people. It doesn’t
seem right, does it?
He should stop them. He should destroy
them. I don’t want God to be patient with them.

It is a wonderful thing that God is patient.

It is a wonderful thing He does not reach down
and destroy sinners at the first sign of wrong-
doing and law-breaking… or even the 490th sign
of it.
It is wonderful the way He gives people
another chance to repent, another day to discover
48
His mercy and love, even though I know (I
know!) they will never turn, never repent, never
accept. It is wonderful that He patiently gives
these opportunities to people I gave up on long
ago.
It is wonderful that God has patience for
the destroyers, oppressors, molesters, bombers
and robbers. It is wonderful how patient He is
with those who do not respect their parents, who
take His name in vain. It is wonderful how
patient He is with those who do not love Him
with all their heart, mind and strength. It is
wonderful how patient He is with us all.

It is wonderful that He is patient with me.

It is wonderful that He is even patient with my
impatience.
When I pray for patience, I am asking
God to make me more like Him. And as my dad
taught me, God answers prayers.

49
 The Desert

The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some

count slowness, but is patient toward you, not
wishing for any to perish but for all to come to
repentance.
2 Pet 3:9

50
 The Break Master Arrives

There is a knock on the door, but I am not

expecting any visitors. The knocking does not
stop. Someone is standing at my door, knocking.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“The Break Master,” he replies.
“Oh,” I say, unsure what to do.
“I want to come in. Will you open the
door?”
“Yes.”
The Break Master comes inside. His eyes
are gentle. His hands are scarred from years of
breaking things, from years of breaking
everything. But somehow, they look gentle too.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
51
 The Desert
“It is time for your Break.”
“I know that now. Will it hurt?”
“Yes. But I will be here, and you can trust
me. My yoke for you is easy. My burden for you
is light. I am the Break Master, and there is
nothing I will not Break. There is nothing I will
not Remake.
“And,” He continued, “I am also the
Break Master in this way: I have come to give
you a Break. I have come to give you rest. I have
come to give you life.”
And then the Break Master, the Lord of
Breaking Things and Broken Things, the Lord of
Remaking Things and Remade Things, does
what only He can do.
He Breaks everything.

(to be continued)

52
 Playing The Telephone Game
in Church History

In some ways, history is like a big game

of Telephone. You know, that game where you all
sit in a line and whisper a message to the person
sitting next to you, who then whispers it to the
person sitting next to them, and so on... By the
end of the line, the message has usually changed,
often in funny ways.
In some ways, history is like that.
Once upon a time, a very wise and holy
man pointed out that we should show reverence
to God. This wasn't just his personal opinion - I
think it was probably God Himself who, in His
Grace and Mercy and Love, pointed this out to
His cherished children.
This wise and holy man, beloved by God,
passed the message along.

53
 The Desert
"We should show reverence to God."
Faithful followers throughout the ages
repeated this truth:
"We should show reverence to God."
At some point, very naturally and
understandably, for a multitude of reasons (some
good, some bad, some in the middle), the
message became:
"We should bow before God, to show
reverence to Him."
This seemed like a good idea at the time.
Then, very naturally and reasonably,
people explained to each other "We should bow
only to God, to show reverence to Him." Do you
even notice the change? Did they?
And then "Do not bow to man, for such
reverence should be reserved for God alone."
"It is wrong to bow to man, for such
reverence should be reserved for God alone."
"It is wrong to bow to a man."
"It is wrong to bow."
"It is wrong to bow to God, for this is a
hold-over of a patristic tradition that originates in
a monarchical society."
And so what began as "do not treat man
the way you should treat God" became "do not
treat God the way you should not treat man."
54
 And the funny thing is, we play this game
quite often.

55
 The Desert

Brother Mustard’s Chores

As Brother Mustard was doing his

evening chores, running the vacuum cleaner and
emptying the trash cans, he told the following
story to the rest of the cleaning crew.

One evening after supper, Peter was

washing the dishes, for it was his turn. Jesus
came into the kitchen and began to take the trash
out.
“Lord, You don’t need to do that,” Peter
said. “It’s my night to clean up.”
Jesus replied, “You do not realize now
what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
“Surely not, Lord,” Peter said, “You shall
not empty my trash can. I’ll take care of it as
soon as I’m done with the dishes.”
56
 “I tell you the truth,” Jesus answered,
“Unless I take your trash out, you will have no
part with me.”
“Oh! In that case, then don’t just take out
the kitchen trash, but empty the trash cans in the
other rooms as well!” Peter said, gesturing wildly
with his soapy, wet hands, spraying droplets and
bubbles all over the kitchen.
And Jesus answered, “The trash in the
rest of your house is clean, but the food scraps in
the kitchen trash will start to get smelly after a
little while. All we really need to do right now is
take out this trash.”
And so He brought it out to the curb, for
behold, the next morning was trash day. When
He came back inside, He sat down at the table
with all the disciples.
“Do you understand what I have done for
you?” He asked. “You call me Teacher and Lord,
and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I,
your Lord and Teacher, have taken out your
trash, you also should take out each other’s trash.
I have set you an example that you should
follow. Now that you know these things, you will
be blessed if you do them.”
And then Brother Mustard cinched up the
bag of trash he was holding and stepped outside,
to leave it on the curb, for behold, the next
morning was trash day.

57
 The Desert

If people never did silly things, nothing

intelligent would ever get done.
- Ludwig Wittgenstein

58
 The Word and The Words

Did you know that we do not have the

original documents for any of the books of the
New Testament? Not a single one? All we have
are copies (and often copies of copies). Why
didn't God preserve the original texts of the
Bible?
He could have, you know. If He'd wanted
to, He really could have.
It must not have been important to Him,
which is perhaps a startling thought to many
people in an age that has an unfortunate tendency
to idolize the Scriptures. Protecting, preserving,
and otherwise perpetuating the original copies of
the books of the Bible is not something God
thought was worth while.
How strange.

59
 The Desert
How wonderful.
It’s a big mystery why He did what He
did, and didn’t do what He didn’t do. I guess
that's why He's God and we're not.
Maybe, just maybe, it was actually very
important to Him that the originals not be
preserved. Maybe He protected us from those
originals... or more precisely, He protected us
from our own attitudes towards those originals.
Our attitude towards the translations is
problematic enough - imagine if we still had the
originals.
We already have people running around
proclaiming “If the King James Version was
good enough for Jesus and the Apostles, it’s good
enough for me.” Imagine if we had the exact
same texts, the original manuscripts, that the
early Church used.
Imagine…
And yet, in a sense, we do have what the
early Church had. The funny thing is, the really
early Church didn’t have the Bible at all. Sure,
they had the Apostles (to be precise, some of
them had some of them), but it was decades
before the Gospels and epistles were written
down. Putting them all together in this particular
order took even longer.

60
 The point is, we don’t have the originals,
but neither did the early Church, not really. They
just had copies… and copies of copies.
God knows why.
(And don’t get me started on global
literacy rates through out history, or the 1400
years between the Bible being written and the
development of the printing press. Inexpensive
copies of Scripture in the hands of literate
believers is a very modern development, yet we
treat it as if it were historically normative.)
As I was saying, all we have today are
translations... and translations of translations...
interpretations... and interpretations of
interpretations. Just like the early church did.
And that's a very good thing.
Don’t take my word for it. Ask the Guy
who preserved – or didn’t preserve – the
originals. I bet He knew what He was doing. I
bet He did it on purpose.
Because it's really not about the Bible. It's
really not about the words. It's about the Word.
Did you also know the Bible did not
come with a table of contents? It’s true. The table
of contents – or to use the technical term, the
canon – is not actually part of the canon. How
weird is that?

61
 The Desert
So not only did God not preserve the
original texts of the books of the Bible... He
didn't even tell us which books belonged there.
Not really. Not directly. He sort of left that up to
us and our ability to listen to His Spirit. I’m not
trying to imply anything here – I’m just stating a
fact.
Does this mean the Bible is
untrustworthy? Does this mean we just made it
all up? Of course not. But if honesty matters, we
would do well to recognize the limits of what we
know about the Good Book. We would do well to
acknowledge certain attributes which we might
prefer to ignore or gloss over.
The Roman Catholic Church established
its canon in 1546 at the Council of Trent. It is
less clear when exactly the Reformers
established their canon, but it was some time
later. Over fifteen hundred years seems like a
long time to wait.
What is clear is the following: God did
not descend from On High with a table of
contents, a scriptural grocery list, saying “Ok,
we'll need 4 Gospels, 21 epistles... oh, and can
you throw in an apocalypse too?” Nor did he say
“Peter, here are the blue prints for a printing
press, so make sure everyone get’s a copy of the
Bible when it’s finished.”
Nope, He did nothing of the sort.

62
 He did not whisper into the ear of a
mystic nor did He carve stone Tablets of
Contents for Peter or Paul or any church leaders
that followed.
He simply trusted His Body, led by His
Holy Spirit, to figure out what belonged and
what didn't. He allowed tradition to happen, to
shape the book we now use.
God knows why.

63
 The Desert

A Psalm of Trust
In a Time of Plenty

Hear my cry, O Lord, and hasten to my aid

Be not slow to hear or to help.

Fear is far from me; Safety and confidence

surround me.
The land is overflowing with abundance, The
fruit of the land is plentiful.

I am not in the midst of lions; I lie among no

ravenous beasts -
No fierce men conspire against me. My friends
are stalwart and loving.
How, then, shall I rely on you?

Save me, O God, for the waters of comfort have

come up to my neck.

64
I sink in the miry depths of contentment, where
there is no need for a divine foothold.
The local grocery story brings forth seven kinds
of olives.
The grapes in the produce section are too
numerous to count.
Soft bread is everywhere. Whole grain bread is
always within reach.
Yea, I am in the midst of abundance,
I have too much food.

My job is secure and pays well.

I have all the wealth I need, and enough to share.
No famine or drought threatens,
Wars are not at the border; the enemy is far from
the gate.

How, then, can I trust You, O Lord, when my

needs are so few
and my desires are satisfied?
How long, O God, will you permit this comfort,
which tempts me to look not to you?
How long must I resist the soft temptations of
abundance?

Though my bed is soft and my climate is

controlled,
though clean water and good food abound,
though my body is healthy and my mind is sharp,
though my companions are faithful,
yet will I trust in You,

65
 The Desert
yet will I acknowledge You.

My soul finds rest in God alone.

My salvation comes from you.

66
 Playing Telephone Again

An interesting thing happens when you

play the telephone game with a simple message.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Yes, it’s interesting how certain messages
can be conveyed, unchanged, through out the
ages.
"Jesus lives"
"Jesus lives"
"Jesus lives"
"Jesus lives"

67
 The Desert

The Boy Who Wasn’t

Crying Inside

Have you heard the story about the boy

who was presented with a room full of manure
on Christmas morning? It’s an old story, with
several variants, but the punch line is always the
same. Shovel in hand, the boy digs
enthusiastically, happily proclaiming “There
must be a pony in here somewhere!”
I think it’s a beautiful story (a good
story), and I hesitate to comment on it at all. I
suspect that any additions of mine or attempts to
expand on this little vignette will only detract
from its wonderful art, but it appears I can’t help
myself, so here I go.
Maybe you will read the following words
with the same enthusiasm as the boy in the story,

68
confident of finding a pony in this pile of
paragraphs. If so, I hope you find it.
Here’s what I love about the story: the
boy did not deny the existence of the manure.
Quite the opposite – it was the very manurish
nature of the manure, the freshness, moisture and
odor of it, that convinced him there must be a
pony around here somewhere.
He didn’t say he liked manure. He wasn’t
excited about its value as fertilizer and he did not
deny its origin or its nature. He seems not to
have given it much consideration at all, beyond
recognizing it for what it was. The boy was the
ultimate realist.
Because it was real manure and he knew
it was real manure – stinky, messy excrement,
and not candy, not sand, not anything else – the
boy was happy. Not about the manure itself, but
about the pony it indicated.
Some people think the boy is silly, an
opinion that unintentionally stumbles upon a
great truth. Our modern word silly comes (in
part) from an old German word selig, which
meant blessed or pious. A wiser age than ours
understood that silliness is next to godliness. Yes,
the pony-seeking boy is silly, because he is
blessed. He is silly because he is pious.
Some people believe the boy is actually
crying inside, that his enthusiasm (from old
Greek words which mean possession by a god)
69
 The Desert
and exuberance (from an old Latin word
meaning overabundance, or thoroughly fruitful)
mask a deeper sorrow. Some even contend the
boy’s overabundant inspiration does more than
mask the sorrow – they go so far as to claim it is
actually evidence of sorrow.
(Some people do not understand joy, but
that is not really their fault. Some people
mistrust hope. I can't really blame them.)
These sad people suspect the boy has a
pathological inability to express his true feelings,
which are surely closer to despair than joy. They
believe there is something wrong with a person
who reacts to manure the way this boy did.
They think the boy in that story needs to
get out of denial and embrace the wretched
sorrow of reality. By all means, wallow in the
turds, they advise, but do not expect a pony.
There is no pony. There is only a shovel and
there is only tears.
They contend that anyone who thinks or
behaves otherwise needs therapy. Anyone who
thinks or behaves otherwise needs medication.
That's a shame.
As for me, I think the silly boy is right. I
think the silly boy is silly and holy, which is the
same thing. I am quite sure he is not crying
inside.

70
 When the boy cries (and no doubt he does
cry from time to time), his tears will always be
on the outside, as befits a boy of such silly
strength and holy enthusiasm.
I think the silly holy boy really believes,
and the joy of that belief is his strength.
“There’s got to be a pony around here
somewhere!” he shouted with joy.
Jesus Christ was the original enthusiast,
the God-Man, the en-theos. He cried on the
outside. He was silly on the outside too. Silly-
holy.
“There is a pony right around the corner,”
he shouted from the cross, with enthusiasm. With
exuberance.
How exciting! How wonderful!
What Good News! What Joy!
There’s got to be a pony around here
somewhere, the boy said, with exuberance. With
enthusiasm. With joy and hope.
Oh yes, there’s a pony around here
somewhere.

71
 The Desert

72
Be joyful always,
Pray continually,
Give thanks in all circumstances,
for this is God's will for you in Christ
Jesus.

1 Thes 5:16-18

73
 The Desert

At The Gates

Joe walked up to the Pearly Gates with

confidence. He knew this stuff cold, and was
ready for his test.
“Come in, my brother,” said St. Peter,
holding the gate open. “Our Lord is inside and
has prepared a place for you. Enter into your
rest.”
“Yeah, just a minute,” answered Joe.
“Don’t you want to quiz me first? You didn’t ask
me any questions at all.”
“Dear Joe, there is no quiz. The Spirit and
the Bride simply bid you to come in.”
“Revelation 22, right? I totally know that
one. But come on, Peter, at least check to make
sure I was baptized the right way. You and I both
know a lot of people are on the wrong side of the

74
whole infant/adult debate, and let’s not forget the
old sprinkle/submerge question. Go ahead, ask
me about mine.”
“There is no need…” St. Peter began,
before Joe cut him off.
“Fine, fine, I get the picture,” said Joe,
shaking his head. “I always figured you guys
were more professional than this, but I guess it’s
your call. Let’s get right to eschatology then. My
position on the millennium…“
“Is irrelevant,” answered St. Peter. “I’m
afraid you don’t understand yet.”
“What? Of course I understand the
millennium. Scripture clearly states…” Joe
paused. “Wait a minute. Is this a test?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, dear
Joe. There is no test,” replied St. Peter.
“Oh, I get it. I get it. You tell me there
isn’t a test – that’s the test! You want to see if I’ll
just walk right in, don’t you. You’re testing my
commitment to theological excellence and
tempting me with cheap grace. I totally get it!
You can’t fool me.” Joe grinned and folded his
arms.
“Apparently not,” St. Peter replied.
“Well, we can get back to theology in a
minute. Let’s just go ahead with the morality
check. I never…”

75
 The Desert
“Please, the list of sins you did not
commit is of no interest here, and of even less
value. Your Savior knows you and loves you.”
“At least make me recite a creed or
prayer or explain the trinity or something,” Joe
said. Then a light went on in Joe’s head.
“Hold on. Are you telling me there are
people in there who believe in…”
“Yes,” answered St. Peter.
“And who were baptized by…”
“Yes,” he said again.
“And who did…”
“Yes,” he replied for the third time.
“We’ve got quite a colorful group behind this
gate.”
“Oh. Oh, I see,” answered Joe with a
shake of his head. “Never mind, then. I don’t
think I’d like it there.”
“Oh, but you will. Just step inside and
see!”
“I don’t think I will,” Joe answered with
finality, then turned and walked away.
St. Peter sighed as he watched Joe walk
off into the mist and disappear.
“Well, it was worth a try,” St. Peter said
to the wind that suddenly began to blow.

76
And the Spirit and the bride say “Come.”
And let the one who hears say “Come.”
And let the one who is thirsty come; let
the one who wishes take the water of life
without cost.
Rev 22:17

77
 The Desert

For God's Sake

I’ve been told Jesus died for me, for my

sake, so I might have eternal life. I’m not sure
that’s quite the case. Rather, I am coming to
understand that Jesus died for God.
True, He died that I may have eternal life
with God, but He did it for God’s own purpose
and pleasure.
Jesus died for God's sake, because He
loves His Father like crazy. He died for me too,
because He and Our Father love me like crazy
too, but you see, it’s not about me.
It’s not about me at all.
It’s about God.
I'm pretty sure Jesus lived and died for
God's sake.

78
 Brother Mustard’s Prayers

Towards the end of his life, when Brother

Mustard was very old, some people said to him,
“Teach us how to pray, Brother Mustard.”
And Brother Mustard laughed.
“You might as well ask me to teach your
heart to beat or your stomach to digest,” he
replied. “I don’t know how these things happen,
and besides, how can I teach you to do what you
are already doing? And yet heartbeats and
digestion can be made healthier, so I will talk
with you about prayer, but maybe we won’t call
it teaching.
“Prayer,” he continued, “is simply talking
with God. Everything you do and everything you
say is said and done to God, who hears and sees
and knows everything. That’s why I said there is
no learning how. There is only learning about.
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 The Desert
There is only deciding and being deliberate with
our prayers. But I assure you – you already pray
a lot more than you realize.
“Jesus once told a story about some sheep
and goats. Have you read that one? To the goats
on the left, he said something like ‘You prayed
for riches and asked Me to curse the people
around you. You shouted obscenities at Me.
Begone, for I know you not.’
“And they responded to the Lord, ‘When
did we pray for riches, Lord, or ask You to curse
the people around us? When did we shout
obscenities at You?’
“Jesus answered, ‘I tell you the truth,
when you dedicated all your thoughts and actions
towards collecting earthly riches for yourself,
you prayed for riches and worshiped them. When
you did not share your wealth with your poor
neighbors, you were praying that I would curse
them. When you shouted obscenities at the driver
who cut you off in traffic, you shouted
obscenities at Me.’
“To those on his right, He said ‘When I
was lonely, you kept Me company. When I was
frustrated, you were loving and gentle with Me.
When I was ignorant, you patiently explained
things.’
“And they replied, ‘Lord, when were You
lonely or frustrated? When did we see You
ignorant and explain things to You?’
80
 “He answered, ‘When you had a kind
word for the harried, frustrated security guard,
you were speaking love and singing worship to
Me. When you patiently explained things to the
least of these, you did it to Me.’”
Brother Mustard continued. “Do not
worry that your prayers might be insufficient,
infrequent or otherwise inadequate. I assure you,
they are completely inadequate. Get used to it.
But trust God, for we know the Holy Spirit prays
for us with groans that words cannot express.
“Your best prayers are as crayon doodles
compared to the Holy Spirit’s briefest groan, and
even if you spent all your time ‘praying’ and
used beautiful words, your prayer would still be
a poor candle. And that’s alright. God
understands.
“Prayer is also listening. Silence can be
hard, but hearing God without silence is even
harder. So seek communion with God through
prayer and silence, but even if your prayer life
consists of nothing more than experiencing
God’s silence and hoping for consolation, that is
enough. Faith, hope and love are always enough,
especially love. Especially the Father’s love.
“One thing to keep in mind, my friends:
prayer does not work. That is, prayer does not
‘work,’” Here he made air quotes with his
fingers, “as if prayer was a mechanism for
obtaining something, or had some concrete
81
 The Desert
objective beyond nurturing a relationship with
Our Father. Prayer is… well, I don’t really know
how to finish that sentence, without going on all
day, which wouldn’t really help anyone.
“My recommendation? Pray. Pray when
you can, pray how you can, and realize that in
your life, you probably even pray when you
don’t know you’re praying. Beware of the times
when you’re not praying, even though you think
you are.
“But don’t force prayer. Don’t force faith.
Strive to pray well and often, and trust Him when
you can’t strive. Even if all you can do is half-
trust the God you half-believe in, that is enough.
God understands. Whisper when you can’t shout,
and shout when you can’t whisper. The rest is in
God’s hands.”
And then it was time to sleep, so Brother
Mustard said his prayers and went off to bed.

82
 Searching The Scriptures
For Questions

How then shall we picture the kingdom of God,

or by what parable shall we present it? (Mark
4:30)

Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea
obey Him? (Mark 4:37)
Who do you say I am? (Matt 16:15)
Why do you call Me good? (Luke 18:19)

Have you anything here to eat? (Luke 24:41)

Where are we to buy bread, that these may eat?
(John 6:5)
How many loaves do you have? (Matt 15:34)
Why is He eating and drinking with tax-gatherers
and sinners? (Mark 2:16)

83
 The Desert
When I sent you out without purse and bag and
sandals, you did not lack anything, did you?
(Luke 22:35)
Why are you so timid? How is it that you have
no faith? (Mark 4:40)
Which is easier, to say to the paralytic 'Your sins
are forgiven'; or to say, 'Arise, and take up your
pallet and walk'? (Mark 2:9)

You do not want to go away also, do you?

(John 6:67)
If God is for us, who is against us? (Rom 8:31)

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

(Rom 8:35)
Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn
you? (John 8:10)

Shall we indeed accept good from God and not

accept adversity? (Job 2:10)
And when did we see you sick, or in prison, and
come to you? (Matt 25:39)
My God, My God, why have You abandoned
Me? (Matt 27:46)
Why do you seek the living One among the
dead? (Luke 24:5)

Simon, son of John, do you love Me? (John

21:16)

Where are you? (Gen 3:9)

84
And no one was able to answer Him a word, nor
did anyone dare from that day on to ask Him
another question.
Matt 22:46

85
 The Desert

The Mountain Of Wisdom

On the windswept heights of a mountain

range that belongs to no country, beyond
countless deserts, above even some clouds and
above those little birds that don't fly very high –
you know the ones - far from the might of kings
and rulers and middle-managers, The Wise
Master sits in silent contemplation.
Just as the monogamous prairie vole
skitters through a meadow, seeking grass and
seeds to grind with its flat-crowned molars, so
too the lucid mind of The Wise Master moves
across the landscape of reality and non-reality,
discovering crunchy-sweet nuggets of wise
goodness which he freely shares with those
daring enough to seek his insight.
So it came to pass, on a particular day in
the month of Diauq, at approximately 0900 Local
86
Mountain Time, a traveler approached. His long
journey through treacherous mountain passes and
slippery slopes was behind him, and he now
faced the eponymous, enigmatic Master.
Without a whisper, so as not to disturb the
undisturbable, the walker reverently approached
that most adept of Teachers and slowly lowered
himself into a sitting position beside the
unmoving paragon of meditation, grimacing
slightly because his legs were sore from walking
up that mountain, which was actually pretty tall,
you know.
Hours passed as a moment. The winds
flew by on their unknowable journeys,
conveying the essence of the mountain from
place to place and bringing rain upon those
below. A fly freely landed upon the Master's
cheek, and freely did it leave some moments
later. The traveler student walker, whose legs
were starting to feel a little better now, learned
wisdom from that fly.
If only he had wings too, his legs would
not ache so much. But surely his wings would
also become tired from too much flying. But he
has no wings, and so he can't know for sure. This
was the beginning of wisdom.
When the time was right and the student
was ready, the Master wisely opened his eyes and
addressed the traveler in wisdom.
"How are your legs feeling?" he asked.
87
 The Desert
"A little better, but they'll be sore
tomorrow for sure."
"Make sure you drink plenty of fluids,
ok? It's really important to stay hydrated,
particularly at this altitude."
"Right."
The student paused.
"I definitely will. But first, oh Master,
share with me your wisdom."
"Certainly, my child," the Master agreed,
although the thing had already been done.
He paused, and nothingness hung as a
shaken void in the hands of Achi Chokyi
Drolma, the peaceful white Drikung Kagyu
protector who rides upon her blue-maned snow
lion. Then, the Master spoke.
"Life is like Donkey Kong, my son. The
original arcade version, you understand, not that
new Kong Country stuff for Gameboys. I'm
talking about the classic two dimensional game."
"I do not understand," said the student.
This too was the beginning of wisdom.
"I will explain. Life is like Donkey Kong
because no matter how many ladders you climb,
there is always another bottom rung to grasp.
What seems to be progress only brings you to a
new level, where the barrels roll faster and the
game space is tougher to navigate." The Master
88
paused slightly and waved his hand over a wilted
flower which bloomed magnificently at his
touch.
"Life is like Donkey Kong," he
continued, "because there is always some giant
monkey throwing stuff at you, and you really
have to jump around a lot to avoid getting
smushed."
"Oh Master, this wisdom is difficult to
bear. Is life indeed so bleak and meaningless? Is
there no rest from climbing ladders, no way to
stop that darn monkey from throwing barrels at
me? Must we remain trapped in the illusion that
activity equals progress?"
In the valley below, a maiden boiled
water for tea.
"Your questions are meaningless, my
child, because they are built on a foundation of
misperceived reality, as if That Which Is were
the same as That Which Must Be. I said nothing
of meaninglessness or bleakness, only rungs and
monkeys. In your confusion, you inferred a lack
of meaning where there is no such lack.
"You see,” he continued, “The ladders
and barrels are drudgery to those with drudgery
in their minds, but they are play to those with
play in their hearts. Yes, life is like Donkey
Kong, but don't forget - Donkey Kong is pretty
fun."

89
 The Desert
An eagle flew overhead, and wisdom was
in its feathers.

90
“Given a choice between a folly and a
sacrament, one should always choose the folly –
because we know a sacrament will not bring us
closer to God, and there’s always a chance that a
folly will.”
- Erasmus

91
 The Desert

The Worst Candle

Look at that candle over there. It's got to

be the worst candle in the world. Why does it
even bother? Let me tell you what's wrong with
it (because I am sort of an expert on this sort of
thing).
For starters, it's too small. It's tiny, and it's
crooked. It hardly puts out any light at all. Good
candles are large and straight.
Then, it doesn't smell nice, and I assure
you candles are supposed to smell nice. Good
candles smell nice. Expensive candles smell nice.
This one sort of stinks. What a cheap candle.
And what a mess it's made of the table –
look! There is wax everywhere. Now, who is
going to clean that up, I'd like to know. Not me,
that’s for sure. I’m not responsible for cleaning

92
93
 The Desert
up after that stupid, messy candle. I can't believe
how much wax it has dripped. Good candles
don't make a mess.
What a terrible candle.
And why is it way over there? Way the
heck over there! It should be over here, where I
am. It doesn't put out much light in the first
place, and with it sitting way over there, I
scarcely have enough light to see.
What a terrible candle. Why does it even
bother?
I bet it will go out any moment now, and
good riddance, I say.
But when it goes out, what will I do?
It's the only candle around, and it's
getting dark.

94
 A Meditation on Difficulty

We do not live in a utopia. Until Christ

returns (or until we get to Heaven, which ever
comes first), we will have difficulties. That's
simply a fact of life on this side of eternity.
This is good news.

Difficulties help us grow, learn, etc. They

make us stronger.
It is not always fun to get stronger.
St. James said to consider it pure joy
when we encounter difficulties of many kinds.
He was either crazy or inspired.

95
 The Desert
I generally don't consider it pure joy
when I encounter a difficulty of even one kind,
let alone difficulties of many kinds.

Westerners living in the early 21st century

have it easier than 99% of the people who have
ever lived. Practically all of our basic physical
needs are met, so our angst over unmet
psychological needs is amplified.
We forget that clean water and shade are
rare gifts in the Desert, because at this moment
we have them in such abundance. In our
forgetting, there is an absence of thanks and an
absence of joy. There is also an absence of many
kinds of difficulty.

“It is hard. It's just so hard to do what I

do. It's so hard to be me,” someone said.
“Is it actually hard, or is it just not going
well, not going the way you want it to? Would
you still complain about the difficulty if the
outcome was more to your liking?” someone else
replied.

We do not live in a utopia. Difficulties are

a fact of life this side of eternity.

96
 Jesus said “In this world, you will have
trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the
world.”
Jesus was either crazy or inspired.

“Life is hard. So very hard,” someone

said.
“Of course it is. What did you expect?”
someone else replied.

No matter how good, talented, smart or

lucky you are, sometimes things won't go the
way you want them to.
Most people don't need to be told this.
However, this seems to be news to some people.

There is a difference between a difficulty

and an undesired outcome. Much of what we call
“difficulties” are simply situations where life
isn't going the way we want it to go.

“Life is hard. So very hard.”

“Yes it is. Let me give you a hand... and
an ear... and a shoulder...”

97
 The Desert

Self pity makes life harder. Feeling bad

about your life, your situation, your self... feels
bad.

I don't really know much about difficulty.

Not really. There are people in this world who
know less about it than I do, but my life has been
easier than the lives of most of the people who
have ever lived.
I don't know if that is good news or not.

The problem is not that life is hard. The

problem is that we don't enjoy difficulties.
Climbing Mt. Everest is hard, but nobody
complains. Nobody says it should be easier to get
to the top, or that it's not fair for it to be so
difficult. They actually revel in the challenge.
They wouldn't climb it if it were easy.

Difficulty and fairness have nothing to do

with each other. A situation can be one or the
other, both or neither.

98
 Consider it pure joy when you encounter
difficulties, said St. James. That is worth
repeating.

A really good chess match is good

because it is hard. An easy match is worse than
boring. It's pointless.
The problem is not that life is difficult.
The problem is that we often find our difficulties
meaningless.
We are generally more than willing to put
up with all sorts of pain and suffering if we can
see some meaning in it.
Jesus was willing to put up with all sorts
of pain and suffering. So was St. Paul. I am
pretty sure they saw meaning in their pain and
suffering. They were either crazy or inspired.

Sometimes I suspect that life is precisely

as hard as it should be.
We do not live in a utopia, and that is a
good thing.
But then again, I don't know much about
difficulties, so I could be wrong.

99
 The Desert
We are all climbing our own Mt. Everest.
It is not easy for most of us, most of the time.
I suspect it is not supposed to be easy.

Jesus said “I will never give you more

than you can bear.” He said “My yoke is easy,
my burden is light.”
It can be difficult to reconcile these
statements with our lives, our difficulties.
Perhaps we are making more of our
hardships than we ought? Perhaps not.

We do not live in a utopia. Until Christ

returns (or until we get to Heaven, which ever
comes first), we will have difficulties. That's
simply a fact of life on this side of eternity.
This is good news.

100
 The Dropper

His name was Josh, but all the students at

The Master's Juggling Academy called him The
Dropper. He wasn't a very good juggler, you see.
He moved a bit slower than most of the
other students. His eyes seemed to operate on a
half-second delay, and his hands were another
half-second behind his eyes. As you can imagine,
being a full second behind reality makes juggling
harder than it already is.
He actually wasn't a terrible juggler. He
could do the Cascade pattern, of course, but
anyone can do the Cascade. He was reasonably
tolerable with the Shower, which requires a bit
more speed, but you could tell he was really
straining to do it. All of the fancier tricks seemed
far beyond his grasp – no pun intended.

101
 The Desert
He was a nice enough person, in a quiet
way. He never grumbled or complained. He
never criticized his fellow students – an attribute
few of them shared with him. In fact, he didn't
say much of anything to anyone, probably
because nobody wanted to listen to what he had
to say. After all, he was The Dropper.
The course of study at The Master's
Juggling Academy is rigorous and demanding,
and many wondered why The Dropper was still
around. He clearly was not keeping up with his
classmates. It was something of a mystery why
The Dropper's presence was tolerated.
It was almost as if the Juggling Master
himself did not notice Josh. Every time Josh
dropped a ball or a club, he would slowly chase
after it and return to his place, and the Master
would not comment. The other students,
however, would whisper and point.
Occasionally, a student would
deliberately bounce a ball in Josh's direction, in
an unnecessary attempt to confuse or distract
him. But Josh was The Dropper already, and the
other students quickly tired of this game. So,
when the other students thought of him at all
(which was seldom), they simply wondered why
he stayed.
Josh could scarcely manage a reverse
cascade. While all the others were working on
Backcrosses and Reverse Chops, he was
102
struggling with a Fountain. For some strange
reason, he did not go away.
Now, the ultimate juggling pattern taught
at the Academy was called Mills Mess.
Mastering the intricate series of throws, catches,
pauses and exchanges that make up Mills Mess
takes tremendous concentration, discipline and
skill.
Those students who succeeded in
performing it graduated with the title of Maitre
Jongleur. Those who could not perform it, well,
they went on to other things. Everyone knew
Josh would never, ever, ever be able to do Mills
Mess. He was just a regular mess.
Each morning after breakfast and warm-
up exercises, the Master delivered a lecture on a
technical topic such as site swap notation. On
this particular day, he was explaining braid
theory, using Artin's Theorem:
“The braid group Bn is isomorphic to the
abstract group generated by the letters b1, ..., bn-
1 that satisfies the braid relation
bibi+1bi = bi+1bibi+1
and far commutativity
bibj = bjbi for |i-j|>= 2.
“Transformations of the braid relation yield the
following results:
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 The Desert
bibi+1bi-1 = bi+1-1bibi+1 and

bi-1bi+1bi = bi+1bibi+1-1
“Are there any questions?”
There were none.
“Good. Now I would like to ask a
question in a slightly different topic. What makes
a juggler good?”
“Braid theory!” shouted Andrew, with a
chuckle. The rest of the room was silent as a
dozen aspiring jongleurs sat and thought.
Another student raised his hand.
“Practice?” he asked.
“No, it is not practice alone which makes
a juggler good,” the Master replied.
“Um, how about speed?” suggested Matt.
“There is more to good juggling than
mere speed.”
“The ability to do Mills Mess?” asked
Tom.
“No.”
An uncomfortable silence descended
upon the group, and in their effort to avoid
making eye contact with the Master, several of
the students did not notice Josh stand up and
walk to the front of the room. Those who did

104
notice nudged their classmates, and quickly all
eyes were on him.
He faced the class, three balls in his
hands. Drawing a breath, he began to juggle with
exquisite, almost painful slowness. First it was
just passing one ball back and forth, then two and
finally three. His too-slow eyes and two slow
hands seemed always on the brink of missing,
like a jazz singer who swings beyond the
dangerous edge of the beat.
He dropped a ball. No one gasped, and
one or two snickered.
His eyes were focused on something far
away and his arms continued to move while the
dropped ball rolled just beyond reach. Then he
stopped and looked at the silent class. The
Master walked over to where the ball lay, picked
it up and handed it to Josh.
“Is it time?” the Master asked.
“Yes,” replied Josh. “Thank you for the
excellent lecture. I will finish the instruction
myself.”
“Yes, my Master,” replied the Master.
The Master sat down in the place Josh
had previously occupied. The students were
puzzled, but the one they had called Master did
not speak or explain. He simply looked at the one
they had called The Dropper, standing alone at
the front of the room.
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 The Desert
Casually, Josh picked up five balls and
began to juggle in earnest, his previous slowness
melted away.
His hands were a blur. The balls seemed
attached to invisible strings that pulled in every
direction, traveling through a pattern for which
the students had no name.
Next, the juggling slowed and Josh’s
hands barely moved while the balls continued on
their infinite journey through space. It was slow,
but not like before. There was an elegance in his
slowness. Perhaps the elegance had always been
there, unseen. Perhaps not.
“You think juggling is hard, and it is,”
Josh whispered. “But you avoided the truly
difficult task of reaching out to a person. You
avoided the difficult task of love.
“That is what juggling is really about,” he
continued. “That is what everything is really
about.”

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Troubadours have always been more important
and influential than theologians and bishops.
- Brennan Manning,
The Ragamuffin Gospel

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 The Desert

The Rest Of God

From Brother Mustard’s Little Book of Verse

I want to know the rest of God

The rest of God
The rest of God
I want to know the rest of God
Ba-deedle-deedle-dee

The rest of God is more than all the parts of God

I’ve known.
The rest of God is more than all the parts that He
has shown.
The rest of God is peace and joy and movement
and repose.
The rest of God is all of Him; I’ve only seen His
toes.

(refrain)

108
The rest of God is not a nap on clouds ‘mid
angels bold.
The rest of God is not a stroll on Heaven’s streets
of gold.
The rest of God is more than just a seat with
naught to do.
The rest of God is loving Him, and loving
serving you.

(refrain)

The rest of God is all of Him. The rest of God is

love.
The rest of God is comforting, and gentle like a
dove.
The rest of God is hidden; we’ve only seen a
part.
The rest of God is endless, with no stop or start.

(refrain)

The rest of God’s a rainbow, all we’ve seen is

blue.
The rest of God’s a footrace, with him and her
and you
The rest of God’s a banquet, like none you’ve
ever seen.
The rest of God’s a mystery, ba-deedle-deedle-
deen.

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 The Desert

A Brief History Of
The Suburban Fathers

“We have reached the time when the family will

be called upon to play the part once played by
the monastery.”
- G.K. Chesterton, The New Dark Ages, 1927

The Suburban Fathers were Christian

laymen who lived on the outskirts of urban areas,
primarily in North America in the late 20th and
early 21st century. The original Suburban Fathers
were Christians fleeing the chaos and persecution
of that age, seeking to faithfully live out the
Gospel mandate. Records from this time indicate
they were usually married with 2.6 children.
They often lived in cul-de-sac’s and drove
minivans.

110
 Rejecting the stoic, solitary path of the
Desert Fathers from centuries before, the
Suburban Fathers dedicated themselves to serve
their families and their communities. They
believed suburban life would present them with
opportunities to lovingly confront worldly values
and follow God’s call in a deliberate way.
As the lifestyle developed, these believers
developed a reputation for holiness and wisdom.
In its early form, each one followed more or less
an individual spiritual program, perhaps learning
some basic practices from other believers, but
developing them into their own unique (and
sometimes highly idiosyncratic) practice.
The Suburban Fathers believed that
“inattention to the holy unravels the fabric of the
divine relationship,” in the words of Brennan
Manning. Accordingly, they sought to recognize
the holy all around them. Over time, they
developed a discipline known as “a pause of
mystical respect before an ordinary object,” or
The Pause for short.
The Pause might be practiced before
anything – a chair, a cup, a rock, a shoelace.
They would consider the object briefly, and
thank God for it. In doing so, they expressed
respect for God’s wisdom, craftsmanship,
creativity and grace, which they recognized in
everything He made. And then they would go

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 The Desert
about their day, more aware of the holiness
around them.
Father Edward the Unhurried came to
understand faith by practicing The Pause before a
folding chair. One day, as he was about to sit
down, a fraction of a second before making
contact, he realized how precarious his half-
sitting position was, and how ridiculous it would
look if the chair were absent. He also realized
how completely committed he was to the act of
sitting, and how much he trusted the chair to
support his weight.
He knew, in that Pause, that if the chair
were absent or faulty, he was very likely to get
injured. He realized that chairs are parables,
metaphors for God, and the act of sitting is an act
of faith. And then he sat.
The Suburban Fathers believed that
spiritual warfare was little more than the daily
walk with Christ, and was not limited to specific
prayer modes, times or locations.
In fact, the Fathers taught that spiritual
warfare was best waged when believers were
entirely unconscious of the battle, and were
instead simply focused on loving and serving
their neighbor, or were sharing fellowship in
laughter or tears, in noise or silence.
Father Chuck of the High Tops struggled
to pray, and often realized as he fell asleep at the
end of the day, that he had spent no time in
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prayer at all. Other days he fell asleep without
even noticing that much. Father Chuck was a
pretty busy guy.
He tried various formulas and methods of
prayer, to no avail. Some were too mechanical,
others too vague, and all seemed too self-
centered.
Yet, he did not despair, trusting that God
would be faithful to bring His work to
completion. And he accepted the possibility that
his prayer life would always be meager.
Then one day, he realized that many of
his companions also struggled to pray. And so he
decided that each morning as he tied his shoes,
poor though he might be at prayer, he would pray
a single prayer – that God would bless his
companions and give them the rich prayer life
which he was unable to attain. Some days he
would pray for one or two by name, and other
days he would pray for everyone in general.
Some days, of course, he forgot.
On Sundays, he wore loafers, and simply
prayed “Thank You,” as he slipped them onto his
feet.
And so, Father Chuck of the High Tops
served the community and became a great prayer
warrior, without even realizing it. Until the end
of his days, he still wished for a richer, deeper
prayer life, and strove to commit himself more
fully to prayer. And yet, he was content with the
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 The Desert
work the Holy Spirit was doing in and through
him.
There are many more stories which could
be told about these servants of Christ, such as
Father Jack the Generous or Father Billy the
Remarkably Funny. Interested readers may wish
to consult A Complete History of the Suburban
Fathers, if indeed anyone ever writes it.

114
“The following of Christ is not the achievement
or merit of a select few, but the divine command
to all Christians without distinction.”
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

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 The Desert

Jesus’ Basketball Team

One Saturday afternoon, around 2:00,

Brother Mustard wandered over to the local
community center to shoot some hoops with the
kids. He wasn’t very fast, and wasn’t a very good
shot, but he had a decent free-throw and played
some tenacious defense. More importantly, he
was really good at passing the ball, and everyone
liked to have him on their team.
His team lost more games than they won,
but not because of him. The other teams were
just usually bigger and faster, and that’s ok. One
day, after playing several games (of which
Brother Mustard’s team won only two), Brother
Mustard took a seat on the bleachers and told this
story to the kids who wanted to listen:

116
 Jesus went through all the towns and
villages, playing pick-up basketball games in all
the courts and synagogues and gymnasiums. And
when He saw the crowds wanted to play, He had
compassion on them, because they were like
players without a coach.
And so He picked his team from the
crowd. Those who had always been picked last,
He picked first, while those who had always
been picked first, He picked last.
He picked a man who was born blind,
and the Pharisees scoffed. He picked a man with
a withered hand and a woman who had been
subject to bleeding for twelve years. The
Sadducees sneered. He picked some five year old
girls, and then He saw a man named Zaccaeus,
who had climbed a sycamore tree to watch the
game, because he was very short.
Jesus looked up into the tree and said,
“Zaccaeus, come down immediately. I must have
you as a point guard on my team today.”
So he came down at once and was made
to be the point guard.
The Pharisees picked themselves, as
usual.
Jesus invited a Samaritan, a leper and a
couple prostitutes to be his cheerleaders.
The Pharisees were scandalized.

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 The Desert
Then a strange thing happened. Just
before the game began, the Pharisees walked off
the court, refusing to play. They took their ball
and went home, for fear of being mocked.
“For if we win,” they said to themselves,
“the people will say it is only because Jesus’
team wasn’t very good. And if we lose, or even if
we simply allow too many points, we will look
really bad. Besides, we might bump up against a
leper and become unclean, and that wouldn’t be
cool.”
So the Pharisees went home. They did not
see Jesus give the blind man his sight, or heal the
man’s withered hand or the woman’s infirmity or
cleanse the lepers. They did not see Him forgive
people’s sins, and they missed out on the
excellent basketball clinic He offered.
And even if they had stuck around to
watch the scrimmage game, they never would
have believed that Zaccaeus could do an elevator
two-handed double pump dunk, or a 360-degree
helicopter one-handed dunk, much less the 180-
degree reverse two-handed jam from a lob
bounce off the floor. But he did.
Even if they had seen it, they never
would have believed it.

118
And these words appeared to them as nonsense,
and they would not believe them.
Luke 24:11

119
 The Desert

Stones & Rocks In Scripture

He gave Moses the two tablets of the

testimony, tablets of stone, written by the finger
of God. (Ex 31:18)

Now the Lord said to Moses “Cut out for

yourself two stone tablets like the former
ones…” (Ex 34:1)

You shall not make for yourselves idols,

nor shall you set up for yourselves an image or a
sacred pillar, nor shall you place a figured stone
in your land to bow down to it; for I am the Lord
your God. (Lev 26:1)

“Behold, I will stand before you there on

the rock at Horeb; and you shall strike the rock,
and water will come out of it that the people may
drink.” (Ex 17:6)
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 “I say to you, that God is able from these
stones to raise up children to Abraham.” (Matt
3:9b)

And the tempter came and said to Him,

“If You are the Son of God, command that these
stones become bread.” (Matt 4:3)

“Or what man is there among you, when

his son shall ask him for a loaf, will give him a
stone? (Matt 7:9)

And he [David] took his stick into his

hand and chose for himself five smooth stones
from the book… and he approached the
Philistine. (1 Sam 17:40)

But when they persisted in asking Him,

He straightened up, and said to them, “He who is
without sin among you, let him be the first to
throw a stone at her.” (John 8:7)

And they went on stoning Stephen as he

called upon the Lord and said, “Lord Jesus,
receive my spirit!” (Acts 7:59)

And He answered and said, “I tell you, if

these become silent, the stones will cry out!”
(Luke 19:40)

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 The Desert
Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” (John
11:39)

An angel of the Lord descended from

heaven and came and rolled away the stone and
sat upon it. (Matt 28:2)

The stone which the builders rejected has

become the chief corner stone. (Ps 118:22)

And coming to Him as to a living stone,

rejected by men, but choice and precious in the
sight of God, you also, as living stones, are being
built up as a spiritual house for a holy priesthood,
to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God
through Jesus Christ. (1 Pet 2:4-5)

“I will give you a new heart and put a

new spirit within you; and I will remove the
heart of stone from your flesh and give you a
heart of flesh.” (Ez 36:26)

“I will give him a white stone, and a new

name written on the stone which no one knows
but he who receives it.” (Rev 2:17)

Jesus looked at him, and said,” You are

Simon the son of John; you shall be called
Cephas” (which is translated Peter). (John 1:42)

122
 “Therefore, everyone who hears these
words of Mine, and acts upon them, may be
compared to a wise man, who built his house
upon the rock.” (Matt 7:24)

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 The Desert

Job At Five

An exerpt from
“The Collected Stories of Brother Mustard”

There was a boy in Mrs. Abishag’s

kindergarten class at Uz Elementary School
whose name was Job, and that boy was a good
boy. He used his inside voice when he was
inside, he shared his toys, drank his milk and was
obedient to his teacher. He did not hit people.
His toys included 100 blocks, 100
crayons of many colors, 100 little cars and very
many books.
He and his friends used to play together
every day. After the playtime was over and the
toys put away, Job would return to the play area
and make sure it was clean, for Job said “perhaps
my friends have left some toys out, by accident,

124
and I will pick up after them and put the toys
away.”
Now there was a day when the sons of
God came to present themselves before the Lord,
and Satan also came among them.
And the Lord said to Satan, “Have you
seen my boy Job? There are no other kids like
him. He uses his inside voice when he is inside,
he shares his toys, drinks his milk and is obedient
to his teacher. He does not hit people.”
Then Satan answered the Lord, “You
have made it too easy for him. You have blessed
the work of his hands and given him lots of nice
toys. But if you take them away, he will not be
such a good kid anymore.”
Then the Lord said to Satan, “Behold, all
that he has is in your power, only do not give him
any ouchies.”
Now it happened that Job had built a very
tall tower from his 100 blocks, and a strong wind
came up and knocked the tower down. Then his
little sister took his blocks to the outhouse and
she did throw them into the hole, from which
they could not be retrieved.
Some other kids came over and broke all
his crayons. Then his daddy did accidentally
drive the family wagon over Job’s toy cars,
which had been left in the driveway by Job’s
friends.
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 The Desert
Then, Job’s mommy told him his best
friend in the whole world, Elihu, was moving
with his family to another village two miles away
and Job would not be able to play with him every
day anymore.
So Job cried for a moment, then wiped
his face, blew his nose, and stood up.
“I didn’t have any toys when I was born,
and when I grow up I will leave my toys behind.
There is no reason only good things should
happen. Bad things happen too, but I know God
is love.” And in all this, Job did not sin.
Then Satan said to the Lord, “It is
because you spare his flesh that he remains
faithful.”
And so the Lord said, “You may give him
an ouchie, or a virus or a cold or something, but
do not kill him, for he is just a child.”
And it came to pass that Job’s entire body
was covered with red spots, and they itched
exceedingly and his mommy told him not to
scratch them, for they were the chicken pox.
So Job had to stay in bed for a whole
week, and drink yucky medicine and try to not
scratch the itchy red spots. His mommy put
lotion on them, but it did not help much. And still
Job did not despair or lose faith in God.
Then God told Satan, “That is enough.
Leave the boy alone.”
126
 Satan replied, “OK, I’ll stop for now, but
I’m not done with this kid.”
“Neither am I,” answered the Lord.
“Neither am I.”
And lo, the red spots left Job’s body and
he was able to go outside and play again, for he
was no longer itchy nor contagious. And his
daddy carved him a new set of blocks to replace
the set his sister had thrown into the outhouse,
and these new blocks were nicer than before, and
there were 300 of them. Job built many tall
towers. And three new families moved into town
from the land of the Temanites, Shuhites and
Naamathites, one family from each of those
lands, and each family had a son Job’s age. And
so, Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar played with Job
every day.
Job grew up to be a man who was
blameless, upright, fearing God, and turning
away from evil. Seven sons and three daughters
were born to him. His possessions were many,
and he was the greatest of all the men of the east.
And God blessed him.

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 The Desert

A Prayer For Rain

Bless the rain, oh God,

which falls with such abandon.
Bless the rain,
which gives us life.
Bless the rain,
and let even the smallest drop
not fear the thunder,
nor tremble at the thought of arriving
with a splash
on the ground.

Amen

128
 The Way of the Sandwich
A Brother Mustard Story

One day, as the noon meal was about to

begin, Brother Mustard taught the monks,
saying:
“My brothers, have you considered the
way of the sandwich? For behold, the sandwich
is not one ingredient, but many.
“If the bread shall say, “Because I am not
the meat, I am not part of the sandwich, is it
therefore not part of the sandwich? Of course
not.
“And if the cheese shall say “Because I
am not the lettuce, I am not of the sandwich, is it
therefore not of the sandwich? May it never be!

129
 The Desert

130
 “If the whole sandwich were the bread,
where were the flavors and crunchy juiciness? If
the whole sandwich were the lettuce, where were
the sandwich? Nay, if the whole sandwich were
the lettuce, it would be the salad, not the
sandwich.
“I tell you the truth. From the beginning
of time hath the Sandwich Maker set the
ingredients, every one of them, in the sandwich,
as it hath pleased Him and His taste.
“And the meat cannot say unto the bread,
I have no need of thee; nor again, the cheese to
the lettuce, I have no need of thee.
“Nay, much more those ingredients which
seem more feeble, are the more necessary.
“And those ingredients which we think to
be less important, such as the mustard, upon
these we bestow more abundant honor, as they –
though they be included in the smallest quantities
– add great flavor to the entire sandwich and
keep it from being too dry.
And when Brother Mustard was finished
speaking, he sat down and ate his sandwich. It
was a delicious sandwich, with the meat sliced
very thin. It had lettuce and cheese and mustard.
He even had a few chips to go with it, and a
pickle.
And he saw that it was very good.

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 The Desert

The Gospel of grace is brutally devalued when

Christians maintain that the transcendent God
can only be properly honored and respected by
denying the goodness and the truth and the
beauty of the things of this world.
- Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel

132
 Tax Collectors And Prostitutes

We often implicitly and mistakenly

assume that Jesus hung out with former tax
collectors and reformed prostitutes. Don’t feel
bad if that’s the conclusion you subconsciously
drew or the impression you got from reading the
Gospels. Christ has a wonderful tendency to
reform and remake people, so it’s a reasonable
perspective to take.
Human beings tend to be different after
encountering Jesus. It is natural to assume the tax
collectors and prostitutes Christ hung out with
had abandoned their former sins and all had new,
respectable professions. That was certainly the
case with the Apostle Matthew, as far as we can
tell. He even became an evangelist. But perhaps
Matthew was an exception.
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 The Desert
See, the Pharisees were pretty upset about
the company Jesus kept. I think they were upset
because He was hanging out with the
unreformed. These are actual tax collectors
we’re talking about, not only former collectors.
People who had collected money that very
afternoon and then gone on to have dinner with
Jesus. Scandalous!
And the hookers! Unbelievable! There is
a very good chance some of these women –
maybe most of them, perhaps even all of them –
were still engaged in their trade. I highly doubt
they all got married or became school teachers
first, then went and had dinner with Jesus. Nope.
He really did hang out with hookers. It drove the
Pharisees nuts.
The Pharisees asked “Why is your
Teacher eating with the tax-gatherers and
sinners?” He did not answer by saying “These
former sinners have renounced their ways – there
are no tax collectors or prostitutes here.” Instead,
Jesus talked about having compassion for the
sick. He told the woman who wept over his feet
that her faith had saved her. He told her to go in
peace, and not because she was now perfect.
Meeting Christ is always a transformative
event, but the transformation does not always
occur in a flash. That is, it does not always occur
on human timelines, or according to our

134
preferences, priorities or schedule. Sometimes, it
takes a lifetime.
That still drives the Pharisees nuts. But
the wise, the compassionate, the loving and the
gentle are willing to trust in the Lord’s
transformative timing, even when the Prostitute
or Tax Collector is us.
God, it appears, is not in as much of a
hurry as we are.

135
 The Desert

The Street Sweeper King

Variations On A Theme

Variation 1
On a crisp October morning, His Royal
Highness King Reginald the Wise and
Compassionate, Defender of the Realm and
Sovereign of the Seven Isles, Champion of the
Battle of Istervar and Lord High King over all,
got an idea.
He stepped down off his throne,
removing his ermine cape. He folded it carefully
and set it near his footstool. Next, he took off his
mighty silver crown which bore the four Great
Pearls of Trimna, and gently placed it on top of
his folded cape.
From his left hand, he removed the Royal
Signet Ring, upon which was carved the Great
136
Seal of the Empire. From his right hand, he
removed a ring which bore the Eye of Loparis, a
brilliant and enormous diamond without a flaw,
the pride of the kingdom.
His sword, the unbreakable Sun Blade, he
set aside. In its place, he took up a broom.
There was nothing remarkable about the
broom, aside from the hands it was held in. The
broom was not new, nor clean, and was even
missing a few patches of bristles here and there.
It had not belonged to the king’s mother or to his
beloved childhood nurse, nor was it a gift from a
wiseman. It wasn’t even old enough to have
much character. It was simply the broom he
chose that day.
So, with a broom in his unjeweled hands,
King Reginald walked the full length of his
throne room, to the massive double doors at the
far end. They were opened, and he stepped
through into the courtyard.
Still holding the broom, King Reginald
began to run. He ran past his Royal Stables, and
shouted “Hey-ho!” in response to the excited
whinny of his steed Red Bear. Past the armory he
ran, gathering speed, until he finally arrived at
the castle’s front gates. At his signal, the
drawbridge was lowered and King Reginald
sprinted across, aiming straight for the center of
town.

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 The Desert
He stopped running when he arrived in
the middle of Main Street, where the bakery
faced the shoemaker’s shop. The gutters were
filled with the detritus of many days, and in the
middle of the street was evidence of the
countless horses which had passed that way.
King Reginald got to work at once.
Gripping the broom in his powerful arms, he
swept and swept, scarcely pausing. His massive
shoulders pushed the broom, sweeping away
crusts of bread, abandoned shoes, and manure
piles, along with unrecognizable lumps of who-
knows-what.
The wind blew hard on this crisp October
day, and the King was cold, despite his exertions.
Still, he swept, cleaning the streets for his
people.
All day he swept, until it was night. No
one noticed, no one cheered. He came back the
next day and swept some more. There was a lot
of sweeping to do.

138
Variation 2
Colleen was six years old when the fever
took her parents. Her mother got sick first, and
lingered for a few days while Colleen’s father
watched helplessly. The day after his wife’s
death, he got the fever too, and was dead by
morning.
Her father had been a chimney sweep,
and her mother took in laundry. Now that her
parents were gone, Colleen tried to wash clothes
too, but the wet clothes were so heavy and she
was so small. Sweeping chimneys was out of the
question, even if someone had been around to
teach her how.
She looked for other work, but there was
precious little that could be done by such a small
girl. Eventually, she managed to get a job as a
street sweeper, pushing a broom that was taller
than herself and trying to keep a few blocks of
cobblestone free of trash and manure.
Passersby sometimes gave her a coin, but
she was hungry all the time. Still, sweeping the
street was the one thing she could do, so she did
it.
She wasn’t very good at being a street
sweeper. The broom was so big, the street was so
long, and she was so small. The horse manure
was sticky and heavy, and drivers seldom slowed
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 The Desert
down as they approached her. She spent almost
as much time running for the curb to avoid being
trampled as she did actually sweeping.
Nights were cold in the city, and Colleen
had no place to go. Sometimes the other street
urchins would chase her or throw things at her,
but usually they left her alone. Most people left
her alone.
One day, Colleen heard a sound like
thunder coming along the road, and she knew a
fast horse was approaching. She ran for the curb,
dragging her broom behind herself, and reached
a safe spot just in time.
Turning around, she saw an enormous
horse, with eyes that shone like the sun. The rider
was dressed in white, and had a crown of gold
upon his head. As he came alongside Colleen, he
pulled up on the reins and the horse stopped.
“Colleen,” the rider said, in a voice like
the wind, “Do you know who I am?”
“No, m’lord,” she replied with a curtsey,
eyes lowered.
“I am called the Great King, the King of
Kings, and all this land is mine.” He dismounted
and walked over to her. “I come with a gift for
you, dear Colleen. A gift, and a great
responsibility.”
Colleen was too tired, cold and hungry to
feel afraid. At the mention of a gift, she looked
140
up, hoping to see a coin, a blanket or a crust of
bread in the Great King’s hands. She sighed
when she saw his outstretched hands were empty,
but noticed strange scars on each palm.
“Colleen, my child” the King said, “Be
not afraid.” He sat on the ground next to her,
unconcerned about the dirt. Colleen sat down
next to him.
“I have come to make you a king.”
Colleen laughed. “A king? How can I be
a king? I am so little, and I’m a girl, and I’m
poor and very dirty. Forgive me for laughing,
m’lord, but I could never…”
The King interrupted, “I will not forgive
you for laughing, Colleen, because your laughter
needs no forgiveness. Making you a king is
funny,” he said with a chuckle, “And you should
laugh. But making you a king is also serious, and
is precisely what I intend to do.” He stood.
“Rise, King Colleen. You shall be called
King Colleen the Kind and King Colleen the
Brave, and in my name you will rule. You shall
lead this realm with grace and beauty. Your reign
will be joyful and peaceful, and I will bless your
nation with every blessing, for I am the Great
King.
“You will be a sign and symbol to all of
my grace and my love for my people. Come,
child-king. Let us ride to the castle, where you
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 The Desert
will be made clean and given a white robe and a
crown.
“Come, let us celebrate the coronation of
the Streetsweeper King.”

142
The greatest honor we can give Almighty God is
to live gladly because of the knowledge of His
love.
- Julian of Norwich

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 The Desert

The Break Master

Part III

There’s one more thing to say about the

Break Master. One more very important thing,
which like most important things is one thing and
many things at once. It’s the only thing left to
say, and it’s already more than I know. Here it is:
He is not merely the Break Master.
Being the Break Master is only a part of
Him – perhaps His left pinkie (and yet his entire
character is there as well). Being the Break
Master – the Giver of Breaks, the Master of
Breaks – is a small, even temporary piece of His
character, although I do not know what the words
small or temporary mean when applied to Him.
I don’t even know what the title Break
Master means, when applied to Him.

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 I do know that He is more fully known as
the Healer, the Completer, the Unifier and
Redeemer.
He is a Gentle Breaker, because He is so
much more than a Breaker. Other gods from
other places get names like Destroyer of Worlds,
but not Him. He is the Destroyer of Other Gods.
He is the smasher of the idols within.
He is the Breaker of Brokenness. His
Breaking is for the purpose of Wholeness.
He is the Whole Master, and is only the
Break Master to those who have not yet opened
the door to His gentle knocking.
And he is the Break Master to those who
have opened the door.
He is indeed the Break Master.
And he is coming.
I don't know what this means, so please
don’t ask.
Just listen for the knock.

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 The Desert

Come, let us return to the Lord.

For He has torn us, but He will heal us;
He has wounded us, but He will bandage us.
He will revive us after two days;
He will raise up up on the third day that we may
live before Him.
- Hos 6:12

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 The Desert

A Few Notes Of Thanks

Fuzzy bunny thanks to Martin Bell. I’ve

never met him, but his book The Way of the Wolf
has been a companion on my desert journey for
many years now, and directly inspired this book.
Happy book-y thanks to Ed Hays, whom
I have also never met, for writing such amazing
books, for saying such nice things about the early
drafts of this book and for encouraging me to
keep writing.
Awesome funny thanks to Gabe
Mounce, my dear friend and brother in Christ,
for inspiring me in so many ways, for reviewing
the early drafts of this book and for the gorgeous
cover photos.

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 Wonder-filled artsy thanks to Mandy
Hoelmer, for the wonderful illustrations so
generously provided for this crazy little project.
Loving hubby thanks to my beautiful and
awesome wife Kim, with whom I am thrilled and
privileged to share a life. Thanks for taking a
chance with me...
Laughing silly thanks to Bethany and
Jenna, the two little princesses who live in my
castle with me and are doing their best to teach
me patience, love, grace and time management
skills.
Grateful son-y thanks to my parents, for
being such wonderful and loving guides and
giving me (among other things) the two great
gifts of roots and wings.
And finally, humble church-y thanks to
Pastors Leon Hayduchok and Mike Ballman of
Cornerstone Community Church, for blowing my
mind with your sermons, your ministry, your
love and your friendship (but I repeat myself)…
and for completely destroying my ability to
comfortably fit into a large traditional
evangelical church anytime soon.

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