Trusting God in Wilderness Places
Live any length of time, you’ll notice a pattern. Life rarely goes to plan. It often unfolds in ways we wouldn’t have chosen. It can be unpredictable, messy, and heartbreaking. Sometimes it unravels at the seams. Relationships fail. Businesses fail. Our health fails. And somewhere along that unforeseen path, we find ourselves in the wilderness—an unknown place of unknowing.
The Pain of the Wilderness
Perhaps you’ve been there. Alone, wandering in the dark, lost for a way out, frightened of what lurks in the shadows, and praying to be rescued. You don’t know which direction to take. If not terrifying, it’s immobilizing. Frozen in place, you’re unsure how to take next step.
Nineteen years ago, I suffered with excruciating back pain that lasted two long years. During that time, I could barely walk, stand, sit, or sleep. I couldn’t carry my purse because it was too heavy. I could barely think straight. My earnest prayers for relief went unanswered. I worried that it was some sort of punishment, although I didn’t know what I’d done wrong to deserve such pain. Desperate for a way out, I had no idea how long the pain wilderness would last.
Fourteen years ago, the business my husband and I began thirty-two years prior began to falter. We had done everything we could—given everything we had to save it—but despite our best efforts it was almost entirely taken from us. We landed in the wilderness watching our livelihood slip away and our brand controlled by others.
During this time, I experienced a myriad of emotions. I felt unsteady and bewildered. Angry and ashamed. Confused and condemned. I wanted out of this dark, directionless place as fast as possible, but was at a loss to find the escape hatch. That’s the uncomfortable thing about the wilderness. We don’t know the way, aren’t privy to the timeline, and fear we won’t make it out alive.
The Purpose of the Wilderness
In the wilderness, there is the temptation to believe lies from the enemy telling us we are lost, or all is lost. That we’ve missed out or missed the mark. That we’re too late or too messed up. Too stranded or stuck. We may wonder if this is our forever place. Tears wet on our face; our blurred visibility makes it difficult to see God or his goodness.
Our experience is not the exception. We’ve all encountered wilderness walking, as did those we read about in the Bible. After fleeing Egypt, Moses spent forty years as a shepherd. The Israelites spend forty years in the desert. David spent years as a fugitive running from Saul. Hagar fled to the wilderness to escape abuse from Sarah. Joseph spent time in a pit, in slavery, and in prison. Job lost everything. Jesus spent forty days fasting in the wilderness and being tempted by Satan before beginning his three-year ministry.
More than any wilderness experience, there is one that surpasses them all—the hours Jesus spent on the cross. The Gospel of Matthew records Jesus’ last words: “And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).
These stories record a point when it seemed all was lost. But have you noticed that things are rarely what they appear? It wasn’t the end of the story. God was far from finished. Moses led the Israelites out of slavery. The Israelites reached the promised land. David became King. Hagar was met by an angel and promised her son would be the father of a great nation. Joseph saved his family and Egypt from starvation. Blessed by God, Job’s life and fortune was restored to him far beyond his initial prosperity. And three days after his crucifixion, Jesus rose from the grave, conquering death.
In his wilderness experience, Job says, “But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold” (Job 23:10). In this sentiment, and through these stories, we notice something profound—traversing dark places is far from purposeless. God brings us through them to accomplish his purposes and display his glory while fostering personal transformation.
The Provision in the Wilderness
From our finite perspective, we don’t know how we’ll manage to pass through such places, but these stories give us courage that God will provide and produce beauty out of what appears ruin. Like Job, we are encouraged that we will be refined, not destroyed. And, like the examples above, we trust that God is doing something far greater than we could ask or imagine.
After two years of unyielding pain, my back miraculously healed without medical intervention leaving God alone to receive the glory. In the pain cave, I learned of God’s intimate love and care, as well as some undesirable behaviours I had been carrying such as: unforgiveness, pride, control, and fear—traits God showed me were linked to the pain. I also learned I can choose joy even in desperate circumstances.
And this past year, in an unexpected turn of events, we received our business back in full. When I look at all the heartache and grief we experienced in the bewildering loss, and the fourteen years of wilderness walking, I couldn’t have fathomed this outcome. In view of what God did—both in carrying us through and reinstating our livelihood—we are astounded and give him the glory.
Having traversed these and other wilderness places, I now think about this location differently. What if the wilderness isn’t punishment but a holy intervention? A divine detour? While we’re in it, aching and bruised from the blows that landed us there, it’s hard to imagine that any good could come from wilderness places. But a slight adjustment in vision and it becomes a place that kindles hope and expands our trust.
It becomes not a holding place but a holy place.
A place that exposes our degree of faith and forms us spiritually. A place that nurtures our reliance on God and prepares us for our calling. A place of purification. Of fortification. Of transformation. A solitary place where we encounter and come to know God in a way we hadn’t yet understood. Though confounded by the temporary redirection, we take comfort in this promise, “In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).
The Profoundness of the Wilderness
At the time, the wilderness felt anything but good. But looking back, in my darkest hours, God never left my side. Far from abandoning me, he met me in my pain and loss. Despite my doubts and fears, he never stopped loving and guiding me. Though I pleaded to be rescued, he allowed me to pass through the hard places to teach me things I would not have otherwise learned if he had prevented them or prematurely pushed the eject button. Things like greater trust in the One I declared to love and serve, and that, in his infinite wisdom, God sometimes intervenes in my plans for my good and his glory. Although I would have never wished any of it on my worst enemy, I can now say I am grateful for the miraculous way God met me in the wilderness and the priceless treasures it produced.
My story is not over. Neither is yours. God continues to turn the page to expose the miraculous—marvelous surprises that only he could orchestrate. We would settle for our good plans and good place, but God loves us too much to let us remain in the safety of mediocrity. He brings us through the wilderness to establish his best. And, like Job, he allows the pressure to refine us and produce beauty for his purposes.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8-9). Armed with this truth, we can release our white knuckled grip on the way we think life should unfold. We can replace it with trust. Trust in the One who died to be with us forever—the One who sees the beginning to the end.
Theses stories—our stories—testify that when everything seems to be falling apart, it’s really God putting it together. As painful as the wilderness may be, we aren’t lost but exactly on course. Faith in a loving God means we can trust that this divine detour is redirecting us on the path God planned all along. It may take years, but one day we’ll glimpse it. One day we’ll see what God was doing in the detour, marvel at the miraculous outcome, and give him the glory.
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” ~Isaiah 43:19
***
Prayer in the Wilderness:
Lord, in the right now and not yet places of living amidst what I trust you are bringing to life from the wilderness I am walking through, I believe you will do what you say. That one day, even now, you are resurrecting life in the parched places. Thank you for all you have done and are doing, for how you have preserved me throughout. Let me release my white-knuckled grip on my dreams—on controlling the outcome—and cling to you. Expand my trust, give me hope, and direct my path. Amen.
Blessing in the Wilderness:
“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power forever and ever. Amen.” ~ 1 Peter 5:10-11
