Stuck in Life's Desert--Three Lessons to Remember in the Wilderness

Stuck in Life's Desert--Three Lessons to Remember in the Wilderness

Vera Christian
Bible Teaching

And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.—Deut. 8:2-3

What if your very best life actually comes not through the easy road but the wilderness?

In my last post, we talked about how we do not love the world, but we can enjoy the good things in life as shadows of an even greater future. These blessings are transitory and fleeting, so we cannot bank our security on them. We do not live for them, but thank God for them as we live with hope at the better blessings to come.

Conversely, doesn’t it feel like the hard things in life go on forever?

Disability or chronic illness.

Infertility.

The grind of a difficult job you can’t quit.

Relational conflict you cannot escape.

Fear for a rebellious child.

Loneliness that doesn’t end.

The pain of unanswered prayer.

I wish I could say that things will work out eventually. But sometimes it doesn’t.

What It Looks Like For Me

In my own life, since her adoption, and until the day I die, we will be bearing the weight of our daughter Anah’s disability.

And honestly, I have had a range of responses to this reality.

First, I tried to escape or pretend it didn’t exist. I tried to live as if nothing changed. We were still “normal.” Not uncommon, but certainly not helpful.

When that didn’t work, I would grudgingly engage, but with anger—at God, at Anah, at the other members of my family who happened to be around. Again, not uncommon, but this time, now, it becomes dangerous. With the anger, I was also sowing seeds of bitterness and resentment in my heart and in others.

By God’s grace, I knew that was wrong and sought counseling to help me move away from this toxic response.

And while that’s much better, I’m noticing a third negative response: stoic acceptance.

Don’t complain, don’t whine. Don’t be a baby. Just do it.

However better, is that what God wants for me? I often feel like this still isn’t exactly what God intends. There’s got to be something more. But what is it?

Maybe you’re in the same position. It’s not like you’re fighting God. You’re obediently following Him, trusting Him.

Yet something in your spirit still feels like it’s frozen. Stuck.

You’re fighting the temptation to merely numb yourself or indulge the temptation to escape. You cling to the hope that one day this will end, if not in this lifetime, at least in heaven.

But is that all there is? Is living life with ongoing suffering simply about making it to the finish line? Do we just look forward to heaven as the ultimate escape? How can I look at these unending hardships with hope and trust—and dare I say it—even joy?

I’ll be honest with you. Anah is approaching 18 but still needing the care of a toddler, I don’t see an end to the desert. This is not theoretical for me—it is reality. How can I live?

Three Lessons From the Desert

This is where Deuteronomy 8:2-3 has been instructive for me.

From this passage, I learned several things about the nature of God—things I often forget and need to remember. Meditating on who He is, fixing my mind on these things snaps my situation into focus in a new way. It changes my interpretation and therefore, my consequent actions.

First, He is with us the whole way.

If anyone felt like they were in an endless desert, it was the Israelites. They literally wandered in the wilderness as a consequence of their disobedience and rebellion in Numbers 14.

If I were God (and thankfully, I am not), I would have just quit on them. Started over. You don’t want to enter the land I have given you, even after the miraculous deliverance you experienced? Fine. Boom.

But what a gracious God we have! Because He is faithful, He never left them for the forty long years of sand, manna, and death.

Because He never changes, that means He will never leave me either. When learned helplessness, endless routines, and all the extra work that comes with her care overwhelm me, I am not alone. He is with me to supply all I need to take the next step.

Second, He has a purpose.

For the Israelites, it was a test: to humble them to trust and to reveal their hearts. This is true for us too.

When trials come, we see with our own eyes what is often hidden. With the pressure and the squeezing of our pain, the real nature of our heart is revealed.

For me, my trials have served to zero in on the fact that I lack the compassion, gentleness, and love of my Savior. Anah then becomes the perfect opportunity for me to practice and grow in these traits.

I know I will never completely mirror these qualities like Christ, but God is using her to help me grow in them. By the end of my life, I trust that I will be a bit further along in their development—more so than if I didn’t have Anah in my life—and He will complete what He started at that time (Phil. 1:6).

Third, He has a lesson for us to learn.

Not only does He have a purpose to reveal our hearts, He has a lesson for us to learn.

For the Israelites, He wanted them to learn that man does not live by bread alone. After their experience in the wilderness, they knew this to be literally—not merely theoretically—true.

Very rarely does our trial go unused. At the very least, our trials bring Him glory, as Job’s does.

He also uses them to equip us to provide comfort to those in similar situations. Our trials can one day be our honest testimony of God’s goodness to us, an authentic encouragement to others (2 Cor. 1:3, 4).

Finally, our trials may be lessons that are prerequisites for His good works through us (Eph. 2:10). For me, my struggles with Anah have become the basis of my counseling and teaching ministry. They have served to both equip and shape me to walk with others who are likewise struggling.

Living Life in the Desert

Knowing these truths is one thing. How do I actually start connecting the dots to living it out?

Conclusion

Life in the desert is hard. I would not wish the wilderness wanderings of life on anyone.

Yet if you find yourself in them, may I also encourage you not to let them go unused? Instead of merely gritting your teeth and doing the next thing, ask the Lord to use these times to help you grow your faith and your character. Ask Him to help you actively learn from these trials, weaving their lessons into the fabric of your life so you think and act more like Christ.

When we do, the world takes notice. And when those happen to them, your own desert becomes a wellspring of wisdom and hope as we point them to our faithful Savior.

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