A Letter from The Wilderness

Fruit of the Spirit: Peace

Mid-February 2025
From: The Wilderness
To: A Fellow Traveler

Dear Friend,

I’m writing to you from the wilderness, this in-between place where I’ve left New York but haven’t yet arrived in my Promised Land. My place now (much like the desert of old) is a temporary dwelling, a space of transition, of testing, of daily provision, but also of uncertainty.

I’m not gonna lie, there are days I look back at New York and remember all the comforts, and the stability, and the knowns, but it also had its limitations. I knew it was time to move forward and step into something greater, but I didn’t fully grasp how much faith and trust it would require.

Now I find myself somewhere between where I was and where I know I’m meant to be. And like any season of waiting, questions arise. How long will this last? What’s next? When will things finally come together?

Some days the uncertainty feels so overwhelming that I don’t even know what tomorrow would look like or how exactly I’m going to get to where I’m meant to be. Plans have fallen apart more times than I can count, and now I’m in a place that wasn’t part of the original vision; a sort of pit stop before the destination. This wasn’t what I pictured. But maybe that’s the point?

Because even here in this wilderness God is providing.

Doors have closed, but others have opened. What felt like setbacks have actually been setting the stage for something better. Every bill, every meal, every unexpected expense, it’s been covered.

And beyond the material, there’s been something deeper: a provision of time, of stillness, of learning to hear God’s voice in a way I never have before.

There’s a quote that I saw a few days back that I thought I’d share with you:

When every other gate is shut and locked, the gate of heaven is wide open and we enter that gate through prayer.

This wilderness has given me so many opportunities to prepare, reflect, and to reset my faith. And yet, I can see now that this waiting isn’t just about me getting to the next chapter of my life, it’s about refining my trust in God. I’ve been given time to fast, pray, and lean into Him with a desperation I wouldn’t have had if everything had gone according to my plan. I thought I trusted Him, but if I’m being honest, I trusted my plan more. And that plan utterly failed.

So here I am, learning to rest in God’s timing instead of fighting against it.

The wilderness teaches dependence like nothing else. Every day I wake up needing (manna) small, daily reminders of God’s presence and provision. And every day He provides.

But the greatest provision of all is His peace.

I used to think peace meant ease, but I’m learning that God’s peace isn’t found in everything making sense, it’s found in knowing that He is in control. It’s not the absence of uncertainty but the quiet assurance that, even here, He is leading me.

So if you too find yourself in the wilderness, here are some things I’ve learned (and am still learning) as I continue to navigate this season:

You stay faithful; even when you don’t see the full picture.
You remain grateful; because complaining only prolongs the journey.
You obey; even when it doesn’t make sense.
You look for manna; because it’s there, even if it’s not in the form you expected.
You build memorials; because one day, you’ll look back and say, Remember how God came through for me?

And here’s what to avoid; things I have to intentionally say no to, even when I’m drawn to them:

Don’t complain; words shape your reality.
Don’t compare; familiar doesn’t always mean better.
Don’t act out of fear; faith moves forward; fear keeps you stuck.
Don’t be stagnant; progress is still progress, no matter how small.

And remember: this is not punishment, it’s preparation.

Here, God provides manna to meet daily needs.
Here, He brings water from the rock, showing He can bring life even to dry places.
Here, He teaches dependence on Him, not on the comfort of what was left behind or the security of what’s ahead.

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The wilderness is uncomfortable, stretching, refining, but it is not forever. And when the promise finally comes to pass, I’ll know I didn’t get there by my own strength. It will have been Him, every step of the way. Until then, I’m here enjoying manna one day at a time.

With love from the in-between,

Dre.