WILDERNESS FORMATION: FROM DESOLATION TO CONSOLATION

Wilderness. 

The word itself is unsettling. It screams of a piercing vastness and an unflinching barrenness. Indeed, the wilderness is an intentional place of isolation set aside for testing and formation. A place where old comforts and habits are stripped away and man is left with nothing but his God. Wilderness is a repeated theme in the Bible, and as it happens, this is exactly where I find myself today. My wilderness season has been laden with fractured dreams, unbearable confusion and, somehow, the presence of God.

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In 2023, our family moved from Texas to Northern Michigan with hopes of simple living and quiet adventure. We purchased a home and despite having a full-scale inspection, were immediately assaulted with serious structural issues, a leaking roof, and water damage. Our dreams of hobby-homesteading quickly devolved into home repair triage, reducing our family of six to a mere 1000-square feet of livable space for five months. Tensions and tempers rose. So I did what most men do: I jumped full speed into the chaos without first consulting God.

Like many, I try to tackle life and its problems by sheer willpower. I enjoy a deep sense of satisfaction that accompanies a completed project with my own hands. But on a house that was literally falling apart at the seams, grit and godlessness weren’t working anymore. The issues kept compounding and I couldn’t keep up. One afternoon I needed to make an $8,000 home repair decision. I was paralyzed with fear. In a fragile moment of faith, I prayed. I heard God say, “I will write you a check”. Terrified, I took the risk and hired the contractor. Three months later my mother let me know she was distributing some investments my deceased father had made many decades ago. Sure enough, I was handed a check. I couldn’t believe it. It covered the repair costs with a little extra. God had come through. 

Until my job fell apart.

Shortly after beginning my new position, a crisis developed in my workplace – one that would consume me for the next six months. My left eye developed a twitch. I had shortness of breath. Heart palpitations that felt like heart attacks came and went. I panicked. I had signed a year commitment with the organization, so I couldn’t quit. Plus we had just moved to a remote town of 15,000 people, so where would I work even if I did? I was in the wilderness. And I was being undone.

For my wife, this transition and all its shock became too much for her and finally took an emotional and physical toll. The details do not matter, but what became clear was how much I had relied on her for emotional support. Suddenly, she wasn’t available to me in the same way anymore. I felt exposed and afraid - like a naked man stranded on an iceberg. Everything had been stripped away. My house. My job. My wife. All I had left were my questions: Why would God take me to this place of emptiness? What is He after? Does He even care? Finally, I turned to the Bible. Flipping through, I stumbled upon Moses, a man familiar with wilderness seasons. I wondered if he ever asked these same questions during seasons of hardship.

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Moses had an entirely separate wilderness experience as prologue to the parting of the Red Sea. I’d submit this more obscure ordeal was perhaps the most significant one of all. But more on that later. For now, let’s start with a murder.

It all happened so fast. Moses had killed an Egyptian taskmaster– a mortal sin according to the rule of Ramses. And there was a witness – a Hebrew no less. He escaped to Midian and found himself at a well when seven young women arrived to draw water for their sheep. He’d seen them before; “Jethro’s daughters”, he thought. A few thuggish men were carousing nearby. Sneering, they tore the heavy buckets from the women’s calloused hands. Moses jumped to his feet, his jaw clenched and his chest tightened. He recognized the feeling. 

By now, it’s clear that Moses was a fighter for justice and a rescuer of the oppressed. This caught Yahweh’s eye. But what is also clear is that Moses had some work to do. He was hasty and aggressive. Left unbridled, his impulsiveness would be his downfall. Moses needed formation. He needed to go deeper. He needed the wilderness; decades of it, in fact.

It was a hot day on the Sinai Peninsula, just like it was yesterday, and the 40 years before that. Moses dug into his satchel for a handful of dates to keep his energy up and boredom away. Suddenly, the sharp odor of burning leaves betrayed his senses. With his senses heightened he looked around the nearby rock outcropping. There it was – a bush engulfed in flames. Burning, but not consumed? Looking around and seeing no one, Moses took a deep breath and risked a step further. Then, a voice. But from where? The bush? 

We know the rest of the story. God speaks to Moses through the bush. He tells him to kick off his sandals and listen up. You can almost hear the pride in Yahweh’s voice. Moses has done well. Moses’ period of formation was over, his destiny around the corner. 

Why did it take so long in the wilderness before Moses was ushered into his calling? Apparently, he had some lessons to learn before he could lead a nation. 

Moses was impatient. Sheep will teach long-suffering. How could he have handled Israel’s constant complaining without patience?

Moses was violent. You can’t kill off your sheep and still be a shepherd. How would Moses have handled the Golden Calf fiasco if he hadn’t previously learned mercy?

Moses was self-reliant. Forty years of hardship teaches faith. Without faith, could Moses have persevered in God’s promise of Canaan? 

God was particular in Moses’ formation and wanted his character rebuilt. It seems God is most concerned with the content of our hearts. This wilderness story is possibly the most crucial in Moses’ journey. Without God’s refining and testing, Moses would not have been able to handle his true calling as leader of Israel. 

God was after my heart as well.

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A few weeks ago, I had a dream. I don’t often have vivid dreams that stick with me, but this one did. I dreamed I was in a hospital room and my wife was in the bed. She looked strong though, resolute. I was holding our children nearby, hugging them around their necks. A man came into the room and I recognized him. He looked directly at me and said, “Pray Psalm 95.” And then the dream ended. 

I woke up and immediately read the verse. Chills ran down my spine as I studied the Psalm that is both worship and warning. 

Today, if only you would hear his voice,

“Do not harden your hearts as you did at Meribah,

    as you did that day at Massah in the wilderness,

where your ancestors tested me;

    they tried me, though they had seen what I did.

For forty years I was angry with that generation;

    I said, ‘They are a people whose hearts go astray,

    and they have not known my ways.’

So I declared on oath in my anger,

    ‘They shall never enter my rest.’” (Ps 95: 7-11)

I had been called out in the kindest, gentlest way. I was hardening my heart toward God. In my wilderness season I had been stripped of self-reliance and false identities. I had no friends or family to hide behind, no comfortable home to retreat to. My job was tormenting. Even the seasons were less forgiving, at least in the winter. I couldn’t even enjoy a cup of coffee anymore because my anxiety had me choking on my own breath. I felt raw, broken, and betrayed. 

The rapid deconstruction of my false securities and the pain of my circumstances was causing my heart to go astray. My fuse was short and my first reaction was to complain, rage, panic, and even curse God. I was just like Israel at Meribah and Massah – railing against Yahweh and forgetting all His provision. “‘Was it because there were no graves in Egypt (Texas) that you brought us to the desert to die?’” was an all too familiar complaint from my own lips. I was angry. I was restless. Worse, I was alone. 

So I went on a retreat. Some of you were there; the East Coast Grove. Admittedly, I knew very little about it when I signed up. I was afraid it would be chintzy, filled with cheap tricks and pseudo-masculine truisms. It wasn’t. It was deep, rich, and real. In a way only God could arrange, our random airport carpool group all happened to be placed in the same small group. We developed a strong bond in our four days together. This alone made the entire trip worthwhile. The best part though, is what happened immediately after the retreat. 

Standing uncomfortably at the “Departures” gate at the Philadelphia International Airport, our group shook hands and made a commitment. We decided to continue the work that started at the Grove by meeting virtually once a week and going through the Brotherhood Primer by Chris Bruno. Our connection however doesn’t exist solely on Thursdays at 7 p.m.. We talk throughout the week. I’ll call one to vent about my struggles at work. I’ll pray with another about my relationship with my mom. A third will spontaneously text me saying,“I’m standing with you” at the exact moment I need it. We are regularly connected, and we share each other's burdens. I can feel Aaron holding one arm and Hur supporting the other, while a third brings a stone for me to sit on. They have been a wellspring in my Sinai, manna in my desert. Because of them, my heart seems to be softening again toward God, and my soul is experiencing some rest. 

Wilderness is difficult. It was for Moses, and it sure as hell has been for me. In many ways, I am still living in that hardship. My house is still a work in progress. My identity continues to be refined. My wife and I still wonder what it all has meant and where we go with it next. But because of these men, because of this brotherhood, I am learning the wilderness doesn’t have to be as isolating as it once was.

In his wilderness, Moses developed patience, mercy, and faith. I hope I am learning the same in mine. But I think what I am beginning to understand the most is the importance of brotherhood. While I don’t know how my wilderness season will ultimately end, at least I know I won’t end it alone. 

_______________________

Ben Richardson
Restoration Project Grove Member