God Will Carry You in the Wilderness
I sometimes wonder if she feels all alone in the womb.
My growing daughter is closer to me than my own skin, but she cannot see me.
And hat’s how I feel sometimes, like I’m all alone, but what if I’m so close to the Lord that I just can’t see Him? Like how a fish can’t recognize water or how a child doesn’t understand the presence of air?
The Lord holds us closer than we know.
Being in a season of wilderness feels like this—when we ask questions like, “Where are you, God?”
“What am I doing here, and where am I going?”
It’s a dark, strange, and uncertain season.
But what if the wilderness, like the womb, is not only our origin story but our training ground for greater things to come?
A recent season of wilderness for me started in the cold, dark months of winter. Several things had come to an end: I published my recent Bible study, finished up fitness classes, and wrapped up our time at a local church.
These were all good things, but ending them felt like I was being let go into the unpredictable world of anything-can-happen. And that's a scary place for me. And when I had stepped to the edge of Egypt, I faced an even more chaotic sea with no boat to stay afloat. I felt lost already, and the enemies of restlessness were charging close behind on chariots of anxiety.
Instead of a staff, God gave me a pregnancy test.
And then, He parted the waters.
When I saw those positive double lines standing up like two walls of water, my heart leapt with renewed vigor at the path ahead.
My husband knew I had been moping around the house from lack of purpose, and when I announced our good news he said, “Looks like you have your next assignment!” Yes, I was ready! I certainly thought about my previous miscarriage, but somehow I knew this time would be different.
This time, the wilderness of the womb is a comfort to me. Even though I am now the womb-carrier, I feel more than ever as if I am the one being carried:
“Listen to me, O house of Jacob,
all the remnant of the house of Israel,
who have been borne by me from before your birth,
carried from the womb;
even to your old age I am he,
and to gray hairs I will carry you.
I have made, and I will bear;
I will carry and will save.
The Wilderness as a Training Ground
Like an athlete preparing for the main event, I have been training for the big birth event. A huge focus for me is learning to relax my belly and breathe deep and wide so it will have room to stretch. Last time, I did not do this and as my stomach spread, it never went back together.
So yes, these exercises are preparing me to give birth, but they are also teaching me the importance of rest and leaning on the Lord for what is to come. The giants ahead of me in the Promised Land of baby #2 are sleep deprivation, baby blues, the unknowns of baby’s health, and growing a family beyond my own abilities.
But just as how Moses received instructions from the Lord in the wilderness of how to be God’s people together, I am receiving instructions of how to be this new family together. I hear Him saying through the Isaiah verse: “As you carry your children, I will carry you.” I breathe this in deeply, and exhale all the doubts and insecurities. I’m not afraid. I'm ready for this land of milk and honey - of breastmilk and baby snuggles.
Life may be cramped in my womb, but my soul is in a broad place. As I expand my breath, my heart makes more room for Jesus, too. If He carried me safe thus far, I have faith He will carry me still.
Are you in a wilderness of your own?
Is God telling you who He is? What does this say about who you are?
Who or what are the “enemies” in your next season? How can this desert place be redeemed into a training ground to stand firm in faith?
What are the fruits the Lord has promised in the next season?
Take a deep breath and envision the Promised Land by breathing in His promises. Breathe in His promise to you ("I will carry you"), and breathe out the doubts. Repeat seven times.