I can’t seem to escape the wilderness. I mostly mean as a theme from scripture, but I also mean personally. I’m not literally, physically in a desert, but God has sent me into the wilderness.
The wilderness is a place where every step forward is one step back — walking in place while the scenery changes around you. At night, there is a fog that sweeps through, causing you to question every truth you’ve ever been told. Sometimes, the fog sticks around until morning, making it difficult to gather the strength to get up. Each day is uncertain. Will you have an appetite? Will you binge in the middle of the night? Will you be able to sleep? Will you be able to get out of bed? Will you have the strength to move through it? Or will you want to give up? The desert is dry. You pray, you sit at His feet, you cry out at night — does He hear you? Will He respond? Will He come rescue you from this place?
It’s exhausting.
My wilderness journey began in May of 2018 when my husband sent me a text asking if we needed to be separated. I was suddenly propelled into the wilderness. I didn’t get to gather myself or my belongings. I didn’t get a chance to process what was about to happen. I was just instantly face down in the sand of the desert, alone.
Back in November of 2017, when our marriage was in the thick of struggle, I was studying the book of Isaiah. Chapter 40 became a balm for me that year.
“Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins. A voice cries: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”
Isaiah 40:1–5 ESV
I wrote in my journal in 2017, “Preparation happens in the wilderness. A way is being made for God to come through.” Little did I know that God was beginning to prepare me.
Countless nights, I begged Him for comfort, for an end to my pain, for relief in the seemingly endless suffering. I wanted to claim Isaiah 40’s victory. I wanted the way to be prepared already. I wanted God to fill my valleys, move my mountains, and smooth over all my rough edges. I was praying for miracles. But instead of a shiny, supernatural sign or turn-your-world-upside-down chain of events, God was just with me in it, preparing.
He didn’t rescue my marriage. He didn’t make everything okay. He didn’t protect me from the pain. He didn’t tie up all of my loose ends up in a neat bow. In fact, it continues to get harder with each step. But He has never been closer.
Here I am a year and a half after being thrown into the wilderness, still wandering in the desert. There is no end in sight. But that’s how the wilderness works. There isn’t an exit strategy. There is only more preparation.
But when I look at how God led the Israelites through the wilderness in the book of Exodus, I find some truth to cling to.
Because even though I can’t choose when I get out of the wilderness, I can choose faith in the wilderness.
God sends you through the wilderness (Exodus 13:17–18)
God leads you through the wilderness (Exodus 13:21)
God is with you in the wilderness (Exodus 13:22)
God does miracles in the wilderness (Exodus 14:16)
God fights for you in the wilderness (Exodus 14:25)
God will test you in the wilderness (Exodus 15:25, 16:4)
God will provide for you in the wilderness (Exodus 16:35)
You will want to turn back in the wilderness (Exodus 14:12)
But…
You will see God’s power in the wilderness (Exodus 14:31)
There is no preparation like the wilderness. I can choose to focus on the sand stuck to my skin, the dryness of my tongue, and the aching loneliness of the night. Or, I can choose faith. Because I know He wouldn’t lead me through this dry land for nothing. On the other side of this wilderness there is a place prepared for me. And I can’t wait to see it.
