Waves in the wilderness.

The only way out.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are soaked with the salty air of North Carolina beaches. In particular, there is a special pocket of memories holding two summers our family vacationed at what was then a sleepy southern NC island beach just far enough away from much more hectic Myrtle Beach, to allow a long drive to supper and a short walk to the sound. My favorite memory is on my hands and knees skimming the shallow waters with my dad, digging for sand dollars. Round, living, breathing treasures, we scooped up and took back to clean in a bucket of water and Clorox, then dried them out and took them home as a remembrance.

The shallow water was inviting, more so than the beach where the waves could knock me down and the undertow could pull me away from the safety of the shore. I preferred the calm water then and I prefer the calm water now, but preference doesn’t always equal circumstance.

Some things in life we just can’t prepare for. It seems trite and obvious to state, but there have been enough times in my life now where I feel like I should have been more prepared, it seems ok to put the thought to pen. I suppose motherhood has created more of those moments than any other chapter. Except maybe marriage. And grief. And faith. And family. And perimenopause… Ok, maybe I’ll leave the door open and let it swing wide and free. Again, some things in life we just can’t prepare for.

I’m some eighty days into working through the Bible chronologically and just today, Moses handed the reins to Joshua and died without ever stepping foot in the promised land. He led God’s stubborn people through forty years in the wilderness to reach it. And he was so close. Close enough to see it. Maybe close enough even to smell the fertile soil? And yet, because of his sin, he didn’t get to take that final step before he drew his final breath.

In all the ways God prepared him to lead the Israelites, I can’t help but think Moses never saw it coming he’d never get to see it through. That would be his final prize, right? To cross the divine divide from the old to the new. After all, he endured so much from those forgetful, rebellious people. After all, he spent time face-to-face with God on the mountain. After all, he talked God into sparing their lives more than once because of their continuous return to idolatry. After all, he was God’s choice of all men on the face of the earth to lead God’s chosen people to freedom. Yet after all…he still didn’t get to see it.

“And the Lord said to him, “This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, ‘I will give it to your offspring.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not go over there.” Deuteronomy 34:5-6

Moses died at 120 years old and the Word says, his eyesight was clear and he was as strong as ever. He was not washed up and weary, whereas he would have had every right to be. He had endured forty years of wave after crashing wave of frustration from the ones in his care. He had to be tired, right? He had to be so over the complaining, insufferable people God gave him to steward, right? Maybe at times, yes. But that wasn’t his legacy. That’s not how he left them. He left them strong and clear. But how? How could all those years not wear a man out and wear a soul down?

Because he wasn’t alone. Ever. Not one second in the wilderness was he without the wave Maker and his great caretaker. Every time a problem arose, God had already given a way through. No food? Here’s some manna. Hot days? Here’s some shade. Cold nights? Here’s some fire. Thirsty? Here’s water from a rock. No one to lead? Here’s Moses. Who initially felt unprepared, but because he trusted, he triumphed.

Did his sin have consequences? Yes. So does yours and so does mine. But God never left him to endure the consequences alone.

Sometimes God leads us into the wilderness, just like He did Moses and the Israelites. Just like the Spirit led Jesus. But never once will He leave us alone in it. The waves may come. We may feel unprepared. We may not be able to see what He’s doing in it or through it. We may not want to be there. We may doubt. We may fear. We may get weak and faint and stumble through the deep sands of despair. But if we cling to Him, we will not sink. He will not let us. He loves us too much. And He’s already prepared the Way. After all, the Way is the way.

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