When church leaders wound you, when ministry dreams die, when everything you’ve built crumbles—these are the moments that test whether your faith can survive. It’s difficult to hear God’s voice. But when we go through devastating rejection, we can learn to recognize God’s presence in our deepest pain. Even when we’re fed the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, our Teacher never hides himself.
The day felt like it was closing in. The four walls pulled tight together. My mind swirled as I recalled the words that cut like daggers. A double-edged knife thrust from the mouth of the pastor. “We don’t want you here. Don’t come back.”
We had given almost two years of our lives to this church, and now we were being told our work was faulty. Lacking. What’s worse is that our children had established friendships here. We had built a ministry from the ground up. It was thriving. The people loved us. They were our family. The hurt was so raw I imagined it was a little like cutting off an arm without anesthetic.
In our brokenness and hurt, we could have left it all. Walked away from the church. From God.
And no one would have questioned our decision.
But we couldn’t.
In the shadow of those painful days, we groped for answers. But God continually reminded us that he was present in our pain. And he was still sovereign. The darkness nearly suffocated us, but the promises of God became the light we needed to keep going.
And though the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. — Isaiah 30:20-21
It was a balm for the gaping wound. A healing word in the midst of the hurt. That God had not abandoned us. It was by his leadership we found ourselves in this place. Just as he led the people of Israel through the wilderness to teach them how to rely on him, we were learning to stretch our faith when we didn’t understand or see the way.
And Though He Gives…
Years before, God had confirmed his call on our lives. Fresh out of Seminary and eager to begin a life together, my husband and I waited for God’s hand of blessing. But we soon learned the hard truth. From his hand comes both the bitter and the sweet. Through experience, we began to see how God weaves them together for a grander purpose we often don’t see. Even Job recognized that God’s hand sent both the rain and the drought.
…Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad? — Job 2:10
The Psalmist exposes the pain of his heart as a reminder that all things we experience in this life come through the filter of his hand.
You have fed us with sorrow and made us drink tears by the bucketful. — Psalm 80:5
So often I want to run for shelter. To seek escape from the trials of this life. I want things to be easy and smooth. To know exactly what comes next. To be comfortable. And even though he comforts me in my struggle, I am never promised the easy life.
Paul’s words tether me to reality. “My grace is all you need.”
…The Bread of Adversity And The Water of Affliction…
As much as I want the bounty of the good life, I am often fed with the scant provisions of the bread of adversity and the water of affliction.
How can I survive when the food I need for life is laced with difficulty and struggle?
The term used in Isaiah 30:20 that is translated as adversity literally means a pebble, or a tight place. Then the writer builds the pressure by using the word affliction. It describes being squeezed hard or hemmed in. The crushing weight of our distress makes survival uncertain. Yet in the midst of the strain the promise remains. God is present.
No matter if our trouble is momentary and easily fixed or if we are constrained to the point of death, God is with us. Through every tribulation, every trial, every trouble, we are never alone.
…Your Eyes Will See…Your Ears Will Hear…
The promise for Israel then is a promise for me today. When the days are lean, I still don’t know how we will get through. When the road is rough, I long for a rest. When the path leads me in unfamiliar territory, I still question and doubt. On my own, I fail him.
Every.
Single.
Day.
But his grace is never about what I do or don’t do. It’s a certain promise that exists outside of my actions. And that’s the best part. Even when I don’t understand why, he never stops leading me.
It’s the beautiful dance of delight and joy with sorrow and suffering. Each coming in its perfect time.
The trials of my younger days are no less painful remembering, but here on the other side, I can see the way God led us. I’ve learned to recognize his voice whispering direction when I come to a crossroads. I understand that no matter what I go through, he is with me. And even if I don’t know the reasons why, I can trust that everything he does comes from a heart of love.
When the walls threaten to close in on me now, I search the landscape to see his hand guiding. I move forward with my ears tuned to the tender whisper behind me.
What has God taught you through your wilderness season? Share in the comments below—your story might be the encouragement another reader desperately needs today.
Need help hearing God’s voice in your pain? Download my free 5-day devotional guide based on Isaiah 30:20-21. Get daily reflections, journaling prompts, and prayers for your wilderness season.
God has taught me so many things in seasons of dryness or in the wilderness. He has helped me understand that his grace is always a gift, just waiting to be received, opened, and embraced. He has shown me that I’m not alone and He is going to make it all ok…in His timing and in His way. He’s not asking me to do something all the time; sometimes all He is looking for is faithful obedience. And some days that look grand and radical. Other days that look like being quiet and still. Lessons learned for the next time I’m walking in the dry, barren land.
Such a good word, Tracie! God’s grace never runs out even when we walk through those difficult days.