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sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand” (John 10:27–29).
    Even though my children will struggle through changes and desert times in their lives, the Good Shepherd will make sure they find nourishment there. And if they do wander away, getting lost in a culture without boundaries, Jesus has promised to search for them and lead them back to the Father’s fold where they will be safe for eternity. “Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep’” (Luke 15:6). No terrain is too bleak, no distance too far that it will stop God from rescuing His own. I can cling to that promise. I can trust the Good Shepherd.
    Engedi
    Our last stop in the Judean Wilderness is the Engedi Nature Reserve near the Dead Sea, a dozen miles north of Masada. According to the Bible, this is where David hid from KingSaul “near the Crags of the Wild Goats” (1 Samuel 24:2). Our group files out of the bus and starts climbing a steep, narrow trail. We are definitely in David’s hiding place because there are both crags and mountain goats here. Long-horned ibex amble across the rocky slopes as if they have suction cups attached to their hooves, taunting gravity. Furry brown coneys , which remind me of prairie dogs, scamper between the stones, poking up their heads now and then to stare back at us.
    The trail is arduous. We ascend a slender cleft between car-sized boulders. Why in the world would God tell David to hide here? The lifeless Dead Sea blocks his escape to the east, and nothing but barren wilderness stretches in the other three directions. Where would David find water for himself and his four hundred men? How would they survive the scorching sun in a land without trees—or sunblock? If these men were “in distress and discontented” when they joined up with David, I don’t see their mood improving out here.
    Gradually, we begin to see more and more green plants sprouting between the stones. Then I hear it—the sound of rushing, splashing, cascading water. We’ve arrived at an oasis. The air feels cool and refreshing after the difficult climb. The cold, spring-fed water is good to drink, the foliage lush and beautiful. This could be a lagoon in a Florida resort. Other tourists, including a group of young people with towels and bathing suits, are swimming and frolicking in the large, clear pool beneath the waterfall. Finding Eden in the middle of a dry, barren wilderness is so unexpected that I can imagine David’s surprise and relief when he and his men arrived here, hot and weary and thirsty. I see them stripping off their sweaty tunics to splash in the refreshing water, giddy with laughter. Clearly God was looking out for them after all.
    Discovering an oasis in the wilderness shouldn’t surprise me. Again and again in Scripture and in life, I have seen God faithfully provide a time and place of refreshment for His weary children. It might be as unlikely as this freshwater pool near the Dead Sea or a weekend spiritual retreat at my church. Typically, I have to expend effort to get there. Finding time in my busy schedule or money on a tight budget requires as much effort as scaling a rocky mountain slope. It also requires me to be honest about my barren spiritual condition and willing to admit I’m in need of relief. It’s easier to camp beside the Dead Sea’s bitter waters mumbling, “Poor me. Why doesn’t God help me? Why can’t I feel His presence?” than it is to search and climb and stretch spiritual muscles that have become flabby from lack of use.
    Wallowing in self-pity is hypnotic, as mesmerizing as floating in the Dead Sea. Unlike a body of freshwater, where I have to paddle to stay afloat, the Dead Sea’s dense waters allow me to drift