“This is where faith begins—in the wilderness, when you are alone and afraid, when things don’t make sense.” —Elizabeth Elliot, The Path of Loneliness
With its barren and desolate imagery, the isolation often associated with the wilderness has held space in my mind for many years. I have felt drawn out of my comfort zone and into a place completely dependent on him. There, in the slow stripping away of things I once held so dear, I have heard his gentle beckoning, calling me out into the wild abandonment of all I’ve tried desperately to control. At first, there was resistance, a struggle to release what I thought I knew and to go where I thought the Lord was leading me to go.
Before moving abroad, I had the opportunity to travel to Israel—that once-in-a-lifetime trip where the stories of the Bible come to life and greet you with open arms. As a part of our tour, we traveled to Masada, an ancient fortress located on a plateau along the eastern edge of the Judean Desert. I found myself overlooking the Dead Sea on one side and was met with a vast view of rugged wilderness in every other direction. Khaki-colored mountains of sandstone with copper ridges towered above hidden valleys and gorges. The expansive sea of huge rock formations spread out towards the horizon as far as I could see.
When I think of someone who was met by God in the wilderness, David easily comes to mind. For his protection, the Lord hid him somewhere among the caves and canyons in the very wilderness I found myself overlooking. While fleeing for his life and hiding from King Saul, David, too, found himself in an uncomfortable place. I’m sure he struggled with feelings of discouragement and isolation, anxiety, lack of control, fear, and uncertainty of his situation.
As the dry-season wind blows wildly and settles dust over everything that’s exposed in our house, the thin covering rests heavy. In the busy but joyful growth of ministry, setbacks and delays in our adoption process have brought discouragement. The aching of homesickness lingers as more nieces and nephews are born and trips to our passport countries result in our own family being separated for a time. There have been waves of grief in our hearts with the loss of multiple grandparents and the inability to be with family during those times. Malaria has been a constant battle despite taking all proactive measures. Processing the loneliness when dear friends have had sudden or long-foreseen departures has been difficult. There is some relief when the rocky terrain of unexpected challenges levels out and you can find your footing once again.
While David also found himself in the shifting sands of emotions and waves of grief, he worshiped while he waited. With his faith on display, he penned Psalm 63:1 while enclosed within the rocky walls, writing,
You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you;
I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched land where there is no water. (NIV)
He sought after the Lord despite his dire circumstances. He desperately looked to the Lord to meet his physical and spiritual needs while he waited in the Judean wilderness. The closeness he found in the Lord, despite the isolation and instability of his situation, is so encouraging. Psalm 139:4–5 describes David’s confidence in his Heavenly Father:
Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before; and lay your hand upon me. (ESV)
I love this verse. Wandering that vast wilderness of uncertainty, but tucked away within the protection of the Lord. Knowing him in a deeper and closer way as we trust in his daily guidance and provision. He is with us in every harsh place, hemming us in as we walk the way he leads us—whether straddling the tight spaces between canyon walls or searching desperately for his footprints in a desert storm. The truth is he is holding us so very close. A few lines from a poem written from within my own wilderness-waiting come to mind.
In a vast land kissing the horizon,
With its ocean of waves, burnt sienna and terracotta hues.
It’s empty, with a nothingness about it,
seemingly barren, void of the life promised by you.
Yet, you don’t meet me in the middle
Or leave me wandering alone with little to say
You are there at the beginning, remaining steadfast to the end
Leading me along this wilderness way
I’m not at the end looking back,
for nothing has yet been resolved
But I’m writing these words from this very place,
to declare and to know that you are always good.
I long to see the Lord’s hand at work in my broken places, not after I’ve climbed up the steep and arduous cliffs or wandered through the dark and dreary valleys. I don’t want to reach the end to realize that he has been walking with me along the wilderness way.
He is shielding.
He is protecting.
He is comforting.
He goes before us.
And behind.
He is with us.
Right here, in the very middle of it all.
In what ways do feel the Lord hemming you in as you journey through your wilderness season?
4 Responses
Thank you for this post! I resonate with this, and I love your poem Janessa. Thank you so much for sharing.
Thank you Sally! So glad it resonated with you ❤️.
Thank you for you beautiful post Janessa.
Thank you Malia ❤️