Wilderness Wednesday: Learning REALLY Begins

TONIGHT is night two of studying the Advent book at my church. If you're in the area and want to join us - feel free! We'll meet at Sycamore Friends at 7 p.m. and we'll be talking about Joseph.

I had a question last week from someone who wanted to know if I was not writing as much about the desert because I was trying to get out of what God assigned me to do. Nope - not trying to get out of it. Just trying to be able to enjoy writing about present day life without getting bogged down in the past. So desert posts are on Wednesdays only now.

In today's desert post, I am writing from my vacation to Tennessee with Faith and her daughters. It was during that vacation that God made a change in my heart. A painful change. And it began on the day you're about to see.

This particular morning, Faith wanted to take the kids to a little beach near our condo. So while she got the kids ready to go, I sat in the living room and journaled:

Kari sent me this verse this morning, and I am so thankful because I’m struggling and flailing in my trust today: Romans 15:13 – “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Precious Savior – give me the grace to wait in You. To trust in You. To love You and worship You in the waiting. How I long to be found faithful. And I know it’s going to hurt.

Wow. Streams. “The real work of God for the children of Israel did not happen when they awoke that morning to find they would cross the Red Sea, but it occurred ‘all that night.’ There may be a great work occurring in your life when things seem their darkest. You may see no evidence yet, but God is at work. God was just as much at work ‘all that night’ as He was the next day when the Israelites finally saw the evidence. The next day simply revealed what God had done during the night. Are you reading this from a place in your life where everything seems dark? Do you have faith to see but are still not seeing?...You may not see it yet, but through the night of your life, as you trust Him, He works.”

We drove to the little beach and Faith, Hannah, and Kaylah played in the water. I sat on a lawn chair in my swimsuit, writing some more: Sweet Savior of my soul, fill me with You. Cause me to love You more and more and trust You for the fulfillment of these dreams.

Father, hold me now. Help me to find joy in this time. Help me to hold to the knowledge that You’re working the night shift.

Jesus, I still choose You. Even though it hurts. I choose to trust You even though I don’t understand what You are doing in me.

Oh my sweet Father – calm and soothe my soul – please? Jesus, it aches and hurts. I’m not sure how to have hope right now. Please put hope in my heart. Although hope kind of hurts because it makes me remember what I had and lost.

You told me to trust YOU for deliverance and redemption. Redemption is not mine to pursue. It is Yours to give. And I guess You long to give it to me in a beautiful way. You said part of my redemption is the waiting for the pursuit. And part of his redemption is being able to come for me. Oh Jesus. I really don’t want to mess it up. I really don’t. Help me to be faithful to Your process.

I wonder, now, how the weeks to come would have been different if I actually had submitted to this. If I hadn’t grown impatient and kept pursuing him out of desperation. And I wonder how the weeks would have been different if Isaac had handled his half of the journey differently, too.

That afternoon, Hannah and I made some jewelry together, and then that night we all went putt-putting together. When we came home, Faith filled the massive whirlpool tub full of water and we all got in our swimsuits and sat in the hot tub.

I journaled, I never expected it to be so hard to crawl in that hot tub tonight. I almost couldn’t BREATHE – thinking of the wish list with Isaac and how WE are supposed to be in Tennessee on vacation in a hot tub. This isn’t fair – but I still choose to trust You, my loving Jesus.