What to Do When You’re Tired of the Wilderness
Why obscurity might be God’s protection, not His punishment.
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Have you ever felt like the more you give, the more people take—and the less they seem to see you?
Perhaps you're the first one to arrive and the last to depart. Maybe you're pouring your heart into a ministry that no one else seems to notice. And somewhere in the quiet, you’ve started to ask, Why did God leave me here?
I’ve been there.
I didn’t have solid mentors growing up—at least not the kind who stuck around long enough to help me grow in the areas that mattered most. In ministry, I often found myself giving everything I had while others kept taking. In large churches, leadership can sometimes delegate responsibility so quickly that staff members feel more like tools than teammates.
Eventually, I started to believe that unless I had a title, I wasn’t truly called. I’d hear things like, “You’re next in line for a staff position.” And while that sounded hopeful at first, it eventually felt like a leash tied to someone else’s timing.
Every time I saw someone step into a role I had prayed for, my heart sank. Another ministry launched. Another book published. Another testimony that looked like the story I was still waiting to live.
And there I was. Faithful, available, tired, still in the shadows.
I remember walking out of a service one Sunday, when a friend smiled and said, “Your time is coming.” I nodded and thanked them, but inside I was thinking, When? I’ve been obedient. I’ve been consistent. I’ve done everything I know to do.
That’s when the Lord revealed to me that I was in a “wilderness-type” season where I needed to rely on God’s direction and provision for the road ahead.
The Lie of Falling Behind
The world has conditioned us to believe that visibility equals value. If you're not on a stage, if you're not trending, if you're not posting updates, are you even making a difference?
But God doesn’t work like that.
David was anointed king long before he wore a crown. And where did God send him? Not to the throne room. Back to the sheep fields.
Think about that for a minute.
After being anointed King of Israel, David went back to one of the lowest, dirtiest jobs he could have.
Personally, that’s the last place I’d want to be.
Moses spent forty years on the far side of the desert before God called his name from the burning bush. Jesus Himself lived in near-total obscurity for three decades before the first miracle in Cana.
None of these men were behind. They were being prepared. Shaped. Hidden on purpose.
Hidden ≠ Forgotten
There is a difference between being overlooked by people and being forgotten by God. One is a test. The other is a lie.
The hidden seasons are where roots go deep. It’s where God teaches you to hear His voice when no one is clapping. It’s where motives get purified and character is forged.
We want platforms, but God wants depth.
We want to be seen, but God wants us to be secure in who we are when no one else is watching.
Obscurity is not punishment. It is protection. And if we can embrace it, we’ll find peace instead of panic.
What If This Is God’s Mercy?
We often pray for promotion, but we don’t realize that exposure without foundation can crush us. God loves you too much to rush the process.
Sometimes, He hides us because He is saving us.
Sometimes, He delays our dreams because He is deepening our strength.
Sometimes, He pulls us back so we can move forward with power later.
What feels like waiting might be a gift of grace.
Practical Steps While You Wait
Here are some things that have helped me stay grounded in hidden seasons:
Journal what God is saying, not just what you’re feeling.
Feelings are real, but not always true. Writing helps me see the patterns of His faithfulness.Serve faithfully in small places.
Big stages often come to those who honored the back row first.
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much.”
(Luke 16:10)Celebrate others without comparison.
Their breakthrough doesn’t cancel yours. It might just be confirmation that yours is coming.Protect your heart from bitterness.
You can’t carry offense and anointing at the same time.Speak Scripture out loud over your life.
Remind your soul what God has promised. It is not void.
You’re Closer Than It Feels
One day, the shepherd boy walks into camp and finds himself face-to-face with Goliath.
One day, the man tending sheep in Midian hears his name from a bush that burns but isn’t consumed.
One day, the carpenter’s son steps out of the river Jordan, and the heavens open.
Obscurity always comes before assignment.
So no—you’re not behind. You’re in process.
You’re not forgotten. You’re being formed.
You’re not invisible. You're being strengthened in secret.
And when the time comes, God won’t forget you.
For Your Reflection
Where might God be forming you in secret right now?
What might He be protecting you from in His mercy?
Forward this to someone who’s been feeling invisible lately. Remind them their story isn’t over.
Let’s Keep the Conversation Going
Have you ever felt like you're falling behind in your calling? Are you in a hidden season right now?
I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment and let’s encourage each other. And if this post resonated with you, share it with someone who’s quietly struggling in the shadows.
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The reflection rightly calls out the lie that visibility equals value — and affirms that God often works in hiddenness. But I want to press further: obscurity isn’t just a preparation for significance. Sometimes, it is significance.
If your hidden work never leads to a platform, you haven’t failed. You haven’t been passed over. You’ve lived the gospel.
Jesus didn’t live in obscurity so he could one day “make an impact.” He lived in obscurity because that’s where most of humanity lives — and God wanted to sanctify it from the inside.
The problem isn’t that we fall behind when we’re hidden. It’s that we ever thought we had to get ahead.
My wilderness wasn’t about a platform or title—it was about surviving without protection from those who should have been my covering. I found myself trapped in an abusive marriage, believing I had no choice but to endure.
Like many who love God and want to serve Him, I thought staying meant faithfulness. But the reality of my situation was slowly destroying me. My only refuge became those stolen moments in the middle of the night, sneaking out of bed to pray and read my Bible. Even that small act of seeking God brought consequences—my husband would wake up and drag me back to bed.
In my desperation to “do the right thing,” I misunderstood a fundamental truth. God had set before me life and death, and I was choosing death—not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t understand what “life” meant in His terms. I thought obedience meant staying and enduring torture. I believed my disobedience had gotten me into this situation, so suffering through it would somehow make it right.
But God requires obedience, not sacrifice. And sometimes obedience means choosing the life He offers, even when it looks like the harder path.
The years that felt wasted in that wilderness weren’t wasted at all. They prepared me for a calling I never expected: to see and serve the overlooked—the unseen, the unheard, those who just need someone to be present.
Here’s what I learned that I wish someone had told me then: People in abusive situations don’t need you to fix everything. They need you to care enough to stay present.
The abuser often appears to be the outgoing, friendly type that everyone loves. The victim looks like the problem. But if you see someone who might be me ten years ago, offer your number. Offer a prayer. If they need to talk, just listen. In my experience, people rarely take advantage of this kindness—they just need to know someone is on the other side of the phone, and maybe occasionally willing to meet for coffee.
My wilderness taught me that God’s voice is often clearest in the darkest places, and that the broken places in our lives become the very places where His light can shine through to help others find their way out.