Finding God in the Desert: Lessons from U2’s The Joshua Tree

I recently found myself listening to The Joshua Tree, the 1987 album by the Irish rock band U2. Inspired by watching a documentary on the making of the record and contemplating the faith musings of Eugene Peterson, I found myself really drawn into the work first released nearly forty years ago during a time that my generation experienced a collision between idealism and disillusionment. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

I remained a rebellious, ideal cynic. While I still believed in truth, justice, and beauty, I didn’t trust anyone who claimed to embody them.

From a Christian perspective, ideal cynicism reveals the tension of living in a fallen world while longing for the Kingdom of God. Romans 8 describes creation groaning, caught between what is and what will be. I think that cynicism is our human way of coping with that gap. Faith, however, invites us not to discard ideals, but to anchor them in Christ, the one who won’t disappoint.

When U2 released The Joshua Tree in 1987, the world was caught between promise and peril. The Cold War had cast a long shadow and economic struggles weighed heavily on communities, as did human rights abuses that scarred nations from Central America to South Africa. Again, the more things change the more they remain the same. It was into that landscape that in the Spring of 1987, U2 released a record that was more than just music. The Joshua Tree was a searching prayer, a protest, and a confession all in one.

Faith in the Desert

The Joshua tree itself is a rugged desert plant named by early settlers who saw its branches as arms stretched toward Heaven. It serves as a striking symbol. Growing in barren soil, under a relentless sun, it thrives where most things wither. It’s not hard to see the spiritual parallel: in our wilderness seasons, faith can look dry and desperate, yet still point us heavenward. The Joshua tree teaches us a lesson in Perseverance 101.

Longing for More

The opening track, “Where the Streets Have No Name,” sets the tone. Bono sings of a place beyond division, a place of unity and transcendence. It reminds me of Abraham, who “was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Hebrews 11:10). There’s something deep inside us that longs for that promised place, where pain and prejudice are no more. Something in us tells us that this is not how things should be.

Searching Faith

“I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” has been called a gospel song by many and for good reason. It is a confession of faith blended with a great yearning: “I believe…but I’m still searching.” How many of us remember living in that space? How many of us still do? Today, as believers, we rest in our security of our salvation while we ache for the fullness of God’s Kingdom to come. This song gives voice to that holy restlessness that Paul described when he wrote, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12).

1 Corinthians 13:12 NIV

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Relationships are Complicated

In “With or Without You,” Bono describes the pure torment between his role as an artist versus a husband. He openly wondered if pursuing his music meant betraying his marriage or if being a good family man betrayed his artistic gift. It is an ode to the complexities of our relationships between God, ourselves, and those we love. In the end, true satisfaction comes through knowing the Lord.

Confronting Brokenness

The album doesn’t shy away from the world’s harsh realities. No, not at all. It tackles them head on. “Bullet the Blue Sky” cries out against war and exploitation, while “Running to Stand Still” paints a stark picture of addiction in Dublin. These songs hold up a mirror to our brokenness, reminding us of the wages of sin and the desperation of a world apart from God. Yet even here, there is compassion; an echo of Christ’s own heart for the poor, the oppressed, and the lost.

Romans 3:22-24 NIV

²²This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, ²³for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, ²⁴and all are justifiedfreely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.

Grief and Grace

One of the most moving tracks, “One Tree Hill,” is a tribute to Greg Carroll, a New Zealander the band first met during their 1984 Unforgettable Fire Tour. Carroll went on to be a roadie for the band and developed a close friendship with Bono. He died tragically in a motorcycle accident in July 1986. He was a friend gone too soon. The song’s raw grief is a reminder to us that mourning is part of the human story, and yet in Christ, mourning is never the end. The poetic album closes with “Mothers of the Disappeared,” a lament for those who suffered under brutal regimes in Latin America. Listening, I can’t help but think of Jesus’ promise in the Beatitudes: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).

Eugene Peterson

Any hurt is worth it that puts us on the path of peace, setting us free for the pursuit, in Christ, of eternal life.

Why It Still Matters

Almost forty years later, The Joshua Tree continues to resonate with me. The year it came out was a difficult, albeit seminal year for me personally. The wheels of my addiction came off and my life rapidly unraveled, albeit not for the last time.

Perhaps its secret lies in how it captures both the beauty and the barrenness of human life. It doesn’t offer easy answers, but it points us to hope. It tells us the desert is real while reminding us so is the God who brings rivers in the wasteland (Isaiah 43:19).

For me, the album is a reminder that faith is not tidy. Living the Christian life can truly be messy. It is a journey where longing, lament, protest, and praise, are often tangled together. Maybe that’s the point: in the desert places of life, our twisted prayers, like the gnarly branches of a Joshua tree, still reach toward Heaven.

The clash between idealism and disillusionment can give birth to ideal cynicism. But it doesn’t end there. Ideal cynicism serves as a stage, a wilderness, that pushes us either toward hardened disbelief or into a deeper, more resilient faith that embraces both brokenness and hope.

So if you’re in a wilderness season today, take heart. Even in dry and weary lands, God’s presence endures. He is the living water. And He can make beauty bloom where you least expect it.