“Lord, why this path? Why this season? I’m feeling all kinds of confused right now. Just a glimpse, please?”
Have you whispered something like that? I know I have. Sitting there, biting my lip, mind spinning in circles, trying so hard to figure out what He’s doing. Why He’s leading me through this wilderness, why the pieces of the puzzle feel so scattered and strange.
The waiting feels long, doesn’t it? The ache for answers runs deep. And sometimes, I can’t help but wish God would just show me where this is going.
But here’s the thing, sweet friend: God doesn’t waste a single moment. Not a single tear, not a single unanswered prayer. Every step—no matter how confusing—is part of a story He’s writing, one that’s so much greater than we can imagine.
I often think of Joseph and wonder if he asked the same questions. Did he sit in that pit, looking up at the sky and cry, “Why, Lord? Why me?” Did he pace his prison cell, wondering if God had forgotten him? And what about David, the man after God’s own heart, hiding in caves, fleeing for his life? Did he ever whisper, “How long, Lord? How long until this promise You gave me finally comes true?”
And then there’s Hagar. I think of her walking through the wilderness, carrying the weight of rejection, her child’s cries breaking her heart. Did she wonder, “Do You still see me, Lord? Do You care about me at all?”
These stories feel so familiar because they remind us of our own questions. But here’s the beautiful thing about them: God wasn’t distant in their confusion. He wasn’t silent in their pain. He saw Joseph in the pit and the prison, just as surely as He saw him standing before Pharaoh. He saw David in the cave, hiding and weeping, just as surely as He saw him crowned as king. And He saw Hagar—broken, wandering, and alone—and called her by name, reminding her that He was El Roi, the God who sees.
Their waiting, their pain, their wilderness—all of it had a purpose. Joseph’s suffering was preparing him to save a nation. David’s hiding was shaping him into a king who trusted God above all else. And Hagar’s wilderness became the place where God showed her that she wasn’t invisible—that even when others cast her aside, He still cared.
And the same is true for you.
I know the waiting is hard. I know you long for clarity, for a glimpse of where this is all leading. But sometimes, God’s silence isn’t His absence—it’s His protection. Sometimes, the confusion is just the cover for something extraordinary He’s preparing behind the scenes.
Maybe He’s building strength in you that can only grow in this season. Maybe He’s preparing you for something so breathtaking you wouldn’t believe it if He showed you now. Or maybe He’s not in a rush, because the process is as precious to Him as the destination.
So if all you can do today is hold on, do that. Hold on to the promise that this journey isn’t meaningless. Hold on to the truth that “He makes all things beautiful in its time”(Ecclesiastes 3:11).
And when your heart aches for answers, whisper this: “Father, I trust You. Even here. Even now.”
Because He loves you too much to rush what He’s perfecting. Rest in that love, dear one. Let it hold you like a lullaby tonight.
Love Sarah x.
*Thank you so much for showing up every post! I know I can post a lot, (I kind of live here) but I love my amazing tribe and all the likes, shares and comments you offer in support of this space. All I have to offer are my heart words, and I hope that’s enough. Please take a moment to encourage someone else today, there’s someone out there that could always use this encouragement. If you would like to keep this Christian creator… creating, and writing for the Kingdom. Please pray about becoming a paid supporter (totally optional of course). Or if you want to read more about me and what I do here, visit my About Me page.
You've painted a beautiful portrait of Proverbs 20:24, "man's steps are ordained by the Lord; how then can any man understand his own way?"
I have been through the craziest set of afflictions and betrayals in the last 8 years, going out into the wilderness at the same age Moses left Egypt. My violent neighbors came in the middle of the night to curse me, only a few weeks before my cabin suspiciously burned to the ground. The school principal called CPS, and then disenrolled my daughters in the middle of the pandemic, when all education was online. The leadership at my church turned out to be a brood of vipers, backing the elder, who was school board member backing that principle in her breach of the law and utter trampling of my daughters and my family. In all this, I have learned the true meaning of Micah 7, especially the part Christ does not quote "trust not her who lies in your arms."
God has taught me, "cursed is the one who trusts in man." But he is also taught me, "in faithfulness you have afflicted me."
What you have written here, I have lived, and the only explanation for it comes in the central confession of faith in Deuteronomy 32 (see Rev 15), and passages like Psalms 38, 40, 73, and 90.
God orders our steps, and calls us out of our worldly life, that he might show us that He is the wellspring of true Life.
He also promises, to his children, what was given to Joseph. See Mark 10: 29-31.
I will say that God gave me a series of visions/dreams to tell me what He was doing, but they have only made sense as his plan unfolds. His Word remains the primary interpretation of both vision and experience. Truly there is no one else to go to: He alone has the words of eternal life.
Gods omnipresence and omnipotence… it’s a beautiful thing. Thank you