Last year, I packed up all my belongings and uprooted myself and my life to move to a new location and be part of a new ministry. Sound familiar?
I went with the blessing of those I was leaving behind, was received with joy, and enjoyed the excitement of a new thing and the assurance that God had led me here. Now I’m at roughly the six-month mark, always a significant time in transitions. I know my way around. Know where to find the best deals for bananas and how to track down that one specific vegetable that I can’t find in the grocery store. I know where it’s safe to swim and where I’m likely to encounter crocodiles and other deadly things. I have a favourite coffee shop, a favourite tree to sit under, a favourite place to walk in the cool of the evenings. There’s a lot to be said for the six-month mark.
The honeymoon period, however, is long gone. The environment has delivered cyclones and devastating flooding. At work, constant uncertainty and challenges—combined with a lack of resources—are taking their toll. I’m seeing the gaps in the ministry, but I don’t yet have the wisdom or experience to know which gaps need to be filled and which can be left, and, in trying to fill as many as I can, I am stretched thin. As a single woman, I often feel very alone. I’m in the wilderness. It’s not the first time I’ve been here, nor the worst, but it is wilderness nonetheless, and I’m feeling a bit wobbly.
I’m not the first person to be here.
The Israelites left Egypt in triumph, laden with the treasures of a kingdom. They saw seas part and enemies swept away. They followed a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. They ate bread from heaven. They saw God descend on a mountaintop. They saw impossible things done by the God for whom nothing is impossible. And yet, in the wilderness, they baulked. They wanted familiar, safe, controllable things, and they used their treasure to make the god they thought they wanted.
Although they deserved to be destroyed, God heard Moses’s intercessory prayer and renewed his covenant with the people. He gave them commandments and laws instead of chaos and restored their dignity as his chosen people.
Like the Israelites, I need God, fierce and gracious, bringing order out of the chaos and stirring my heart to trust in him.
Elijah stood upon the mountaintop. He saw God send down consuming fire and heavy rain, saw idolatrous prophets defeated and people bowing down in awe, declaring the Lord as God alone. Then, pursued by enemies, Elijah found himself alone and afraid in the wilderness and begged God to let him die. So, gently, tenderly, God allowed him to rest and gave him food and drink. And when Elijah’s strength was restored, God came to him, not as a strong and destructive wind, nor as a mighty earthquake, nor even as a fire, but as a gentle whisper. God heard Elijah’s despair and did not rebuke, but commissioned. He gave purpose and direction, promised help to come, and gave reassurance—Elijah was not alone, there were seven thousand others still.
Like Elijah, I need the tender care and guidance of my Almighty Heavenly Father.
Peter, filled with faith, stepped out onto the water in unquestioning obedience to the call of the Messiah. But the wind rose. It must have battered at his body, tossed his hair and robes about, thrown waves and foaming water all around. Overwhelmed in this moment, Peter’s wilderness was not a dry and barren land but watery depths, and, sinking, he cried out to his Savior. And immediately, Jesus was there, steadfast, steady, drawing him up out of the water and leading him through the wind and waves back to the boat.
Like Peter, I need a faithful and present Savior who lifts me out of the depths and walks with me through the storm.
I could go on. Did the woman healed from her issue of blood ever wonder? Did the children raised from the dead ever doubt? Did Paul get overwhelmed and weary? Did Lydia ever want to close her doors and have the believers gather elsewhere?
Whether it’s a long journey of years of barrenness or a momentary feeling of the full weight of despair, the wilderness is a reality in this fallen world. We all get a bit wobbly from time to time.
Reflecting on these stories doesn’t change my situation, but it does change me as I remember again the God who has led me this far and who walks with me all the way.
Yongsung Kim, a Korean artist, has painted a picture called The Hand of God, which depicts the moment Jesus reaches out and pulls Peter out of the water. In the painting, Jesus is smiling.
How do you picture God’s face when you are “drowning” or in the wilderness? What do you think his heart is toward you?
