Wandering in the Desert: When Grace Feels Distant
My life had not gone the way I had planned or hoped. Up until that point, I had always been able to maneuver or talk my way out of every bad situation. I felt in control. But now, for the first time, I was completely out of control.
In my desperation, I turned to God and confessed my sin, expecting relief to come instantly—as it always had before. But this time, it didn’t. It would be years before I truly felt the comfort of God’s grace again. Not because His grace wasn’t with me—I believe He was there in that very moment—but because He was doing something deeper in me.
The Sanctifying Surgery of Suffering
In my most painful season, God was performing a kind of spiritual surgery on my heart. My pride and self-righteousness were being broken. The idol I had made of ministry was being toppled. Jesus was clearing the temple of my heart, sweeping away everything I had placed above Him.
I also had to come to terms with the reality of my actions. The wounds I had inflicted on my ex-wife and children were real. My apologies, no matter how sincere, could not immediately erase their pain. There had to be time—time for healing, time for trust to be rebuilt, and time for me to become the man they needed me to be.
The Wilderness Season
During this time, the book of Numbers became my companion. The Israelites had been freed from slavery in Egypt, yet they still wandered in the wilderness. They weren’t in the Promised Land yet, but God was still with them—leading them by a cloud during the day and fire at night, feeding them with manna, sustaining them even in the desert.
That’s exactly where I found myself.
I felt like a nomad, wandering without a home, searching for stability but never quite finding it. And yet, even in my lostness, God’s grace sustained me. He held me when I thought I was alone. Looking back now, I can see His hand so clearly. But at the time, all I felt was despair.
Hope for the Wanderer
I share this because maybe you’re in the middle of a similar season. You’ve fallen on your face, you’ve repented, and you desperately want relief—but the pain is still there. You might even feel as though you are beyond forgiveness, that you are too far gone.
That is a lie.
Jesus did not come to condemn you—He came to save you. The Holy Spirit convicts, but He does not condemn. If the voice you hear is telling you that you are hopeless, that you are beyond redemption, that is not God speaking. That is the enemy, and he wants nothing more than to keep you trapped in despair.
But even this place—even this wilderness—can produce fruit.
As Joseph told his brothers, “What you intended for evil, God intended for good.” (Genesis 50:20)
Through all the pain, He is working. He is building something better than you could possibly imagine. Hold on. Keep walking. The wilderness is not the end of your story.
