Calling the desert an unpleasant place to live would be an understatement. It is a dry, inhospitable place where even your tongue dries out for lack of water. Temperatures range from scorching hot during the day to unnaturally chilly at night. I’ve never tried living in the desert before, and I can’t imagine I would want to.
I have, however, lived in a spiritual desert before.
What exactly is a spiritual desert? It is an unrelentingly torturous place where trials both great and small are thrown in the Christian’s way. Here, everything he thought he knew about God and His goodness is put to the test. And no person’s desert is the same—some endure physical trials like a medical diagnosis, while others face mental struggles like depression. Trials come in every form. But the most terrible thing about a spiritual desert is that no matter how great or small a trial is, God seems so very, very far away.
There comes a time in every professing Christian’s life when God will lead him through a spiritual desert, just as He led the Israelites through the Arabian desert with Moses 3,000 years ago. For many people, desert trials are a dealbreaker that crushes their faith. They seem to believe becoming a Christian guarantees that they will never experience hardships, though Christ Himself says that following Him involves painful trials. They seem to think that trusting in Him for salvation entitles them to peaceful, happy lives.
I know this to be true because I once believed the same lie. While I would have denied it, I saw my faith in Jesus as a sort of “fire insurance” against anything the world could throw my way. It didn’t take me long to figure out how wrong I was when trials came my way—when my family faced joblessness, sickness, and even the deaths of several loved ones. While we experienced much joy, we also experienced great pain as well.
I struggled to connect with God on a personal level during that time, because I couldn’t understand why He was allowing these things to happen. In desperation I tried to “cash in” on my insurance policy by reading my Bible and praying every day, hoping that God would pay me back by ending our trials. And when He didn’t end the trials, I became bitter and depressed.
Though I did my very best to hide my feelings from my family and my friends at church, the experience took a toll on the childlike faith of my youth. I became skeptical that God was interested in my life or the lives of my loved ones. And when He did help us in a tangible way, my rational mind tried to argue away His involvement. I still believed in God, but I questioned everything I had been taught about His goodness and love. I wandered like this for several years in a spiritual desert, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to be led out.
Why do I tell you all this? Because I want you to know that I understand suffering on some level. However, I also realize that while my personal struggles were painful, many of you have experienced worse pain—pain I can’t even begin to imagine. Like me, you have asked, “Why does God allow His children to suffer? Doesn’t He care? Is He not ‘our refuge and our strength, a very present helper in times of trouble?’” There are many verses in Scripture that affirm this truth, but are they true?
The simple answer is yes, they are true.
The Old Testament of the Bible was written entirely—as far as we know—by Hebrews, the people who followed Moses into the desert and lived there for many years. They were no strangers to suffering and hardship because they endured it in the desert every day. So, when God wanted to explain His ways to them, He used the context of their experiences in that place. The Old Testament is replete with examples of this, like King David’s famous 23rd Psalm. Most Christians have this passage memorized, but many fail to understand the historical setting.
When we read that God is a shepherd who “makes me to lie in green pastures,” or “leads me beside still waters,” we picture bleating sheep feasting in a sea of green grass, with rivers of fresh water flowing nearby. But David—a Hebrew shepherd—wouldn’t have thought of such things and neither would the people he was writing for. Many of them would have raised their sheep in the desert, journeying constantly to find enough food and water to keep their flocks alive. The sheep couldn’t have realized just how hard this must have been for the shepherds; the sheep had to trust the shepherds with their lives every day, to protect them from starvation or from being ravaged by predators. But most importantly, the sheep had to trust that the shepherds wouldn’t abandon them when real danger came. A good shepherd never abandoned his sheep.
This is why when Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd,” we should pay close attention. As God, He assigns this role to Himself because it is one of the ways He relates to us. Though trials will come, Jesus promises that He will never abandon us during those trials. Rather, He will be there with us, caring for us and providing for our basic needs. Sure, He may not physically appear and speak words of comfort to us, but that doesn’t mean He isn’t there. Saying that He is there is like saying gravity is there—you feel His effects, even when you can’t see Him. “I will never leave you or forsake you” is a promise God takes very seriously.
God endures the trials of the desert with us, no matter how great or small they are. It’s like the old poem about a poet who goes for a walk with Jesus on the beach. Looking back at all the saddest moments in her life, the poet sees only one set of footprints in the sand. In despair, she asks Jesus why she had to face those moments alone, and Jesus answers her.
He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you."
It took me years to accept the truth that God loved me, and that He hadn’t abandoned me in the desert when I needed Him the most. And the more I look back on my life so far, I’m beginning to see the times when He was carrying me, helping me even in my lowest moments. I’m not completely out of the desert yet. And I’m not naïve to think that I won’t face more trials, possibly greater than the ones I have faced. But I am learning to trust the Good Shepherd again, to find peace in the one who has never abandoned me even when I was bitter towards Him.
That is my prayer for you, too—that you will also learn to trust Him and find peace in Him. He will never leave you alone, not even in the desert. This is His promise to you.