Ever been so drained you can barely catch your breath? Like your soul’s just… dried up, and every step forward feels like you’re trudging through wet cement? Yeah, I’ve stood there too—staring at the same unchanging horizon, wondering if that heavy feeling in your chest will ever ease up. And those stretches of silence?
Funny how they roar louder than any noise. Let me tell you, though—I get it. You’re not alone in that. You start questioning, Is this it? Did I take a wrong turn somewhere? Let me tell you—this isn’t the end of your story.
The enemy loves to whisper that you’re trapped, that the dryness is permanent. But here’s the truth: God’s strength is a relentless, unshakeable force that doesn’t depend on your feelings.
That desert or wilderness you’re in, that is full of suffering? It’s not your home, but it is the highway of Holiness that you must walk on. It is the highway of God. Remember, after His baptism, Jesus walk in the wilderness for 40 days and forty nights. And after that 40-day wilderness season, Jesus return to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (Luke 4:14, NIV).
Here is how the bible stated about the wilderness, being the highway of holiness and a highway of our God:
… For waters will break forth in the wilderness… The scorched land will become a pool And the thirsty ground springs of water;… A highway will be there, a roadway, And it will be called the Highway of Holiness… (Isaiah 35:6, 7, 8 NASB)
A voice of one calling: “In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. (Isaiah 40:3, NIV)
Do you see the Bible verses above?
- They prove that when you are in a wilderness season of your life, you are in the right place.
- You are already walking on the Highway of Holiness.
- You are already walking on the highway of the living God.
Always remember, Jesus walked that way for forty days and forty nights, then returned in Galilee in the power of the Spirit of the living God.
The Wilderness Isn’t a Death Sentence
Let’s get real: dry seasons make us want to throw in the towel. I’ve crumpled to my knees more times than I can count, crying, “God, where are You?” But here’s what I’ve learned the hard way: the wilderness isn’t where faith goes to die. It’s where it’s forged.
Think about Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. Starving. Tempted. Alone. Yet that’s where He shut down the devil’s lies with Scripture and walked out stronger than ever. The wilderness doesn’t drain you—it trains you. It’s where you learn to lean on God’s strength instead of your own hustle.
David knew this ache too. In Psalm 63:1 (NKJV), he groaned, “O God, You are my God; early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.”
But did he quit? No. He wrote those words mid-desert, choosing to worship even when his throat felt like sandpaper. That’s the raw, gritty faith God honors.
God’s Strength Isn’t a Drip—It’s a Flood
Here’s the kicker: Jesus didn’t promise a trickle of help. He said, “He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” (John 7:38, NKJV).
Rivers—plural. Not a meandering stream you have to chase, but raging currents that surge through you.
These rivers aren’t metaphors. They’re real. I’ve felt them—like the time I was so burned out I could barely pray. Instead of waiting for an emotional high, I grabbed my Bible and whispered, “God, I’m empty. You have to show up.” And He did. Not with lightning bolts, but with a quiet strength that steadied my shaking hands. Those rivers are:
- Wisdom—not just ideas, but divine clarity when your mind is fogged by doubt.
- Understanding—a piercing light that cuts through confusion.
- Counsel—that nudge in your spirit saying, Turn here. Wait there. Trust Me.
- Might—the kind of endurance that defies logic, like finishing a marathon on a broken ankle.
- Knowledge—not head-smarts, but heart-revelation of who God is.
- Fear of the Lord—a holy awe that anchors you when the world screams, Compromise!
These rivers don’t dry up when life gets hard. They’re buried in your spirit, waiting for you to tap into them.
Dig Deep—The Well Is Already Yours
Here’s the thing: we often beg God for rain when He’s already planted a well inside us. Isaiah 12:3 (NKJV) says it straight: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” Salvation isn’t just a ticket to heaven—it’s a bottomless reservoir here and now.
I’ll never forget the year my prayers felt like they bounced off the ceiling. I’d read my Bible, but the words felt flat. Worship music? Just noise. Then one morning, through tears, I growled, “God, I won’t let go until You bless me (Genesis 32:26)!” (Yeah, I stole that from Jacob.)
And in that stubborn, messy persistence, something broke open. I started declaring, “Rivers, flow! I don’t care if I feel it—I believe it!” Slowly, the numbness faded. Joy flickered. Peace trickled in. The water was there all along—I just had to fight for it.
Don’t Quit—Your Promise Is Closer Than You Think
Let’s be honest: the wilderness sucks. It’s lonely. Exhausting. But it’s also where you’ll discover God’s strength in ways that defy explanation. I’m talking about the kind of strength that lets you forgive the unforgivable, hope when logic says despair, and stand when your knees buckle.
The enemy’s goal is to isolate you—to make you think God’s love has limits or His guidance failed. Don’t fall for it.
That dryness? It’s proof you’re being prepared for something bigger.
Maybe you’re being positioned to lead, to comfort others, or to carry a glory that can’t be born in comfort.
So what do you do when every step feels like a battle? You dig. You worship through gritted teeth. You declare God’s promises over your life like a war cry. And you remember: the same God who guided Moses through the wilderness is charting your path right now.
Your breakthrough isn’t a question of if—it’s when. So grab your shovel. Stir up that well. And watch what happens when God’s strength meets your stubborn faith.
Keep pressing. The desert or the wilderness in your life is about to bloom.
