“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.” Hosea 2:14

I’ve been in the wilderness this past year. Some days sitting in my prayer chair, most days, kneeling in my jeans with ripped knees. But we’ve all been there—the wilderness—even if it’s for a few brief Sunday-morning moments.

Because there was one morning when the kids were small and we were fifteen minutes late for church. And my youngest, who had lived in my sequined majorette uniform and Pocahontas socks, had a full-blown theological crisis over the “seam” touching her toe. 

I offered a new pair. She screamed. I offered no socks. She wailed. I prayed. She howled. Her older brother begged, “Just put on the socks!” Then we completely forgot why we were leaving the house. Somewhere in the chaos, I gave up and harshly shouted, “We are going to worship Jesus whether you feel like it or not!” 

We did not go to worship Jesus that morning. We went to McDonalds. I cried into hashbrowns. Resented Pocahontas. And quickly barked out a prayer and felt like a total imposter of a mom before 8:00 a.m.

The world felt harsh.

I felt harsher.

Because I thought if I could just fix the morning, I could fix the mood. And if I could fix the mood… maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a failure. Lately, too, while in my life subscription of Wilderness Living, I’ve even thought if I can fix everything, then this time of testing would be over—and that would be like passing the test, right?

Undertrusting

But I’ve confused the road to Nowhere (overthinking and undertrusting) with the road to Somewhere. This past year and a half, I’ve believed I was stuck in the wilderness—with sadness and a story more like fiction than faith. But God has done a makeover in me, it “seems”.

Yet things aren’t always what they seem.

The wilderness has become my redemption.

It’s been the falling away of insecurities and anxieties I’d wrapped my identity around for years. I thought I was prepared for where God was taking me. I brought snacks. Worship music. Devotions. A good beach read.

But I circled.

And I even wondered—for hot, fiery minutes—like yesterday—if God had forgotten me. That maybe all this pain has a reason. That maybe I was the reason. Sigh.

But legalism lies. He loves. He gives more grace. God is never insufficient in how He plans or promises or provides.

In Scripture, the wilderness is not just a place of lack. It’s a place of formation. Israel wandered there to be reshaped before promise. Elijah ran there and met God not in fire—but in a whisper. Jesus was led there by the Spirit after His baptism, not to be abandoned—but to be strengthened.

The wilderness feels like absence, but it becomes a place of presence. It strips us, yet it strengthens us. It empties us—so we can be filled.

Understanding

In Hebrew, the word for wilderness is midbar, from the root dabar—“to speak.” The word “tenderly” carries this meaning—to speak with deep gentleness, love, and intimacy.

In other words, the wilderness is where God speaks, and not just speaks—He speaks tenderly. As ONE calling you closer to whisper something sweet. The ONE who exchanges your pain for diamonds. As the only ONE who knows every part of you, every fractured piece, every broken word, every harsh pain. Friends, our God is loving. 

This past month I was diagnosed with GIST, a cancerous tumor in my upper intestine. And I am writing this on the day I find out if the cancer has spread, and what procedure will be done. I will find out some of the things. And I keep thinking of my Mama’s words as she would sing her favorite hymn to me: “And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am his own. And the care He shares as we terry there, is like none other, I’ve ever known.” 

Tenderly, Father, speak. He is not just the God of mountaintops. He is the God who gently speaks in the wilderness. “Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.” — Hosea 2:14

In Tenderly, by Beth Duewel, the author delivers a beautiful, raw, honest and intimate view from the wilderness-a place to find God's presence. Share on X