Navigating the Wilderness

By Chelsey Dankert

Life can be incredibly messy. And I’m not even talking about the life of having 4 kids between 10 and almost 4, living in the house with their constant playbags full of their random stashes and treasures, meticulously left in every room possible. 

No, I’m talking about the feelings that we experience when we don’t expect them; the moments when we think things are going okay and something implodes. And after the dust clears, new boundaries need to be placed, goodbyes need to be said, and difficult forgiveness should be extended; bitterness that should be released to make space for faith and grace

It’s often far too easy to extend an “I’m sorry,” when the last cookie was eaten, or maybe you stepped in front of someone at the cashier at the grocery store. The words come out of our mouths almost as quickly as stating how much we “love” something - like chocolate chip cookie ice cream, for example. 

But what about when the coin is flipped and we are waiting for an apology? Or a recognition of a wrong done to us?

That, my friends, is a breeding ground for a variety of unhealthy things: imbalanced thoughts, lack of discipline, stress that is manifested in physical ways, hardened hearts…

Welcome to my most recent visit to the Wilderness. 

You may recall Alison's most recent post, she shared about her experiences and how the Bible reflected time spent in the wilderness through Moses and Christ Himself. Little did my BFF know that I was contemplating writing my own post in reflection of Moses as well. When her post came up with Egypt by Bethel Music and Cory Asbury, I knew it was confirmation because that song had been on my mind for days. (To be clear, she knew of my season of wilderness. She has been one of my closest confidants and speaker-of-truths; but the fact that I was considering writing on the same topic was a surprise.)

I am no stranger to the Wilderness. I believe there are many seasons of wandering that result in deeper trust; specific times of my life have felt dry and pointless, only to realize that the circumstances always point to Christ. But this one… this one was new, unexpected, and for a while, I was content to sit in it. 

Like a child who pouts when they don’t get their way, I plopped my metaphorical bum in the middle of that dusty place and said “So be it! I’m not moving until I get what I feel is owed to me.” I may have even stuck my tongue out. 

With my arms firmly crossed, I wallowed. I wept. I became angry. I was hurt and confused by the circumstances around me. I felt betrayed and lost. My temper was short and I felt like I would lose hours in my day, wandering in some sort of mental fog. Everything was tainted by this burden. I made excuses for myself and looked for ways to blame others or circumstances for my reactions and responses. The external stress manifested in a very physical way for me. I allowed lack of discipline to dictate my days, routines, and choices.

I was a willing captive of my own unruly mind; the temporary pleasure of self-righteous anger was my master.

Because clearly I am not wrong here, yet I am the one being shut out and bleeding from the shrapnel. 

During this time, I also began to experience panic attacks after having several years free from them. The added internal humiliation of not being able to stay in control of my emotions, or breathing for that fact, simply fueled the fire within to seek revenge. Ahem, I mean, justice. 

That became my primary focus. What one-liners could I sling when the chance came? I reached back into my memories to recall other times when I should have spoken up, but didn’t, and added those to my growing list of offenses. I was obsessed in my unrelenting desire for justice; I carried a bitterness that rocked my world in the worst possible way. I held court in my head where the outrageous acts and the evidence of such were on display and where I was judge and jury. 

I spoke words that seemed to be faithful to God’s plan, but I can see clearly now that my heart was not in the proper posture to submit to His plan. Even months after the initial shock, and the weeks following that were still filled with conversations, accusations, and bewilderment, I was wrestling with my spiritual footing - which is how I ended up pouting like a toddler. 

As my internal, metaphorical temper tantrum continued, I entered the stage that every parent has experienced - essentially covering my ears and singing loudly “la, la, la, I can’t hear you!”

I started feeling more angry because I felt like God may have abandoned the situation. Nothing had changed, no updates, no apologies, not even a word spoken in my direction with a hint of remorse. 

God, how is this still happening? Why haven’t you intervened? Why has this not been exposed yet? Other people could still be hurt and misled. I don’t understand!

I grew weary in my prayers as they were not answered in the manner or timing that I wanted. God wasn’t going to give me a sucker to keep me from wailing. He was patiently waiting for me to lift my head up and look at Him. 

Daughter, I did not expose your sin. I covered you with love and made you Mine. 

His words were like honey on a sore throat, soothing and healing to a wound that felt so raw and deep.

If His voice wasn't clear enough, the next day during my morning devotion time, I got a spiritual slap on the wrist with a few minutes spent in time-out. 

“By faith Moses, when he had grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing rather to endure ill-treatment with the people of God than to enjoy the temporary pleasures of sin, considering the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt; for he was looking to the reward. By faith he left Egypt, not fearing the wrath of the king; for he persevered, as though seeing Him who is unseen.”
Hebrews 11:24-27 (NASB)

My Wilderness wasn’t one that I was led to endure for a greater cause, but one that I chose to step into, so I could justify my temporary pleasures of my own self-righteousness and personal contempt. My own wrath, which manifested as a lack of discipline, had been consuming me, and without realizing it, subtly dictated my innermost thoughts. 

I was more concerned with my own feelings, than the treatment of others.

I considered my own pursuit of judgement to be riches greater than the reproach of Christ. 

I did not want to give over control to the One unseen, but rather remain in my own sense of Egypt. I was comfortable there. I knew what to expect there. 

I didn’t want to venture out into the Promised Land because that would mean relinquishing control. 

Sound familiar? Quite a bit like the Israelites complaining to Moses in Exodus 14. They had distorted their view of the past and refused to move forward by faith, into the Red Sea. How would the story have ended if they just gave up, threw up their hands and sat on the beach and waited for Pharaoh's army to bring them back into bondage?

I know I am getting wordy here, but the truth is just too good to cut short. 

The Israelites witnessed God’s power through the plagues and His mercy with the covering of the lamb's blood. However, when they encountered something that wasn’t part of their own exit plan, they started throwing their own fit. They only knew of one way to live, in slavery. 

In contrast, Moses spent part of his life living one way in Pharaoh's court - but one day he experienced the presence of God and that not only changed the trajectory of his life as a whole, but his perspective on a daily basis. 

He grew up. He stopped allowing his circumstances to dictate his mindset and he stepped into a new role with faith. 

So this is me. I am picking myself up out of the dirt. I am brushing the dust off my clothes and looking up to Him who knows all things. By faith, I will persevere through the Wilderness of the unknown, the seemingly unjust, and the unwavering goodness of God. 

As I close, I would like to add quickly that forgiveness does not mean open access as it may have been before an offense. I am in uncharted territory and am taking it one day at a time, knowing that my responsibility is to give God glory, to be loving and respectful to others, if for no other reason that they are image-bearers of Christ. It is my responsibility to not walk around blinded by unkindness, hatred, or ignorant of my role and how it changes the space around me. As Parker Palmer writes in the introduction of Leading from Within: Poetry That Sustains the Courage to Lead: “I am responsible for my impact on the world whether I acknowledge it or not.”