6 hours.
Six hours.
That’s how long it took to drive from Santa Cruz, where I attended college, to Los Angeles, where my family and community were. Back when I was in school, I would get so homesick that the first Friday night of each month, I would jump into my trusty Corolla and make the trek home. This was before the days of GPS, so I often had to print the directions onto paper before heading out and juggle the art of navigating while gripping the steering wheel with my other hand. But after the third or fourth trip, I memorized the turns, the highways, to the point where I knew that three hours in I would stop at Kettleman City for a quick In N Out burger before getting back onto the road for another three hours.
Driving long distance is a curious phenomenon—you’re sitting in the same seat for hours, in the same position, all while hurtling through time and space at seventy-five miles an hour. Even though you’re moving, it feels like you’re not.
As if you’re stuck.
As if you’re frozen.
And then, by magic, you’re in a new destination, having traverse miles and miles… all while sitting in the same position for hours.
That’s what I think about when I think about wilderness seasons. All of us who follow God at one point or another will find ourselves traversing wilderness seasons: moments or seasons in our life where we seem to be stuck in slow-motion, paralyzed in whatever mess we find ourselves in, wondering why we’re not making progress or moving forward. But in reality, God is taking us on a journey—one that might seem long or arduous or unnecessary, but it brings us to a new destination. Whether that’s emotionally, or spiritually, or perhaps even physically.
Now, stick with me for a moment.
Imagine in the middle of my drive, I can't take it anymore—the sitting for hours in the same position, so I pull the car off to the side of the road and I announce to myself, “I’ve arrived!”
In the middle of the desert.
Am I really where I’m supposed to be?
Did I reach the destination I was aiming for?
Of course not. (Unless you want to live in a desert.)
And that’s the tricky part about wilderness seasons. We can actually sabotage ourselves from reaching our destination by choosing to eject ourselves from the journey early. For some of us it looks like settling for something (or someone); for others it looks like walking away from Jesus altogether. And still for others it is the unwillingness to continue trying.
God doesn’t hold us hostage in our wilderness seasons. He gives us the freedom to walk away from them, if we choose. And that’s what makes wilderness so dangerous. Sometimes the thing that we think is best for ourselves is like pulling over, getting out of the car, and settling for whatever patch of grass we find best.
Even in a desert.
But if we’re willing to stick it out?
Willing to give God a chance?
Willing to trust that he’s doing something, even if it doesn’t feel like it?
We just might find ourselves at the place we’ve been longing to be at the end of a long journey—exhausted and achy, but full of joy that we’ve reached our destination. A time and space of satisfaction, grateful we didn’t pull over in the middle of the desert and settle for the next patch of land we found.
The truth is, if you’re a disciple of Jesus, you’re going to go through many wilderness seasons in your life, each for different reasons: some to clarify our purposes; others, for our inner demons and insecurities to be revealed; and some to wake us up to the true reality of our lives.
God doesn’t just “allow” them to happen.
Often times he is the one who takes us by the hand and leads us there. Not because he hates us, but precisely the opposite—he does this because he loves us.
He believes in us.
He wants the best for us.
And the only way we can become who we’re meant to be in God’s imagination is to go through these wilderness seasons. But the beauty of the biblical narrative is that we see a God who doesn’t just abandon us to our wilderness—he’s right there alongside of us, journeying and traversing the wild lands with us, accompanying us with each step of the way.
Whether you’re just starting out on your wilderness season, or you’ve just emerged from it, may you feel the nearness of God stepping next to you in every season,
In every moment,
In every step.