I'm taking my family on a road trip next week, and I’m already preparing myself for the inevitable question: “Are we there yet?”

It doesn’t seem to matter how important the journey or how beautiful the scenery, there’s just something inside of us that longs to get to the destination. Or, if where we’re going feels too distant, to wistfully look over our shoulder to where we started and wish we could go back.

The Israelites fell into this trap, even after they’d watched God lead them out of slavery through a series of plagues; even after He’d parted the waters and destroyed the most powerful army on the planet; even as He led them in a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night and as they ate bread that miraculously appeared on the ground each morning and drank water that gushed from a rock in the middle of the wilderness, still they grew tired of the journey. They grew weary of being dependent on God both for their direction and their sustenance.

And in the midst of the discomfort, they began to reminisce about how “comfortable it was back in Egypt,” forgetting that it was literal slavery. They began to grow impatient to get through the journey and arrive at their destination. They began to grumble against God. It didn’t matter that He was guiding them, or that He was providing for them – their attitudes turned this adventure into an ordeal. And because of their resistance to trust God and follow His lead, God literally extended the time they spent in the wilderness. Because what He was teaching them about trust and dependence was just as important, if not more so, than where He was bringing them.

As I examine my own heart in this current season, I discover thorny shoots of anxiousness and impatience sprouting from the soil of my weariness and discomfort. I find myself wanting to rush through this time, to just get to wherever we’re headed. At times, I catch myself wistfully looking back to how things were before the whole world shut down and wishing we could go back. Can you relate?

What’s ironic is that as uncomfortable as the journey became for the Israelites, as much as they wished to rush through it or turn back, that time of walking with God in the wilderness was one of the most formative seasons in their history, one which caused their faith in God to grow exponentially. In the soil of their discomfort, they learned dependence and trust. And they saw just how much God loved them. It was a lesson that shaped them as a people for generations.

I am weary of the journey. I’d love to just fast-forward to 2021, skipping past the whole Covid-shutdown, the racial unrest and the election. But as much as those things feel overwhelming and the road seems endless, I’m reminded that we don’t journey through this wilderness alone. God is right here with us, leading the way if we will only look to Him. He’s providing what we need in the midst of a season of scarcity. And I suspect that when we look back on this time, years from now, we will be grateful for it, grateful both for where He’s bringing us and for what He’s doing in us along the way.

Because sometimes the most important part of a journey isn’t the destination; it’s about being present with the ones who are with us along the way.
 

So do not fear, for I am with you; 

do not be dismayed, for I am your God. 

I will strengthen you and help you; 

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. 

(Isaiah 41:10)