I think it’s very true that we sometimes hear God best in the wilderness. In 1991 I was accepted into a doctoral program at Emory University and set off from my hometown in the Chicago suburbs to Atlanta. For the first time in my life I was going to be truly alone in a strange place. I didn’t know anything about Atlanta and I certainly did not know a soul in that city. I found a place to live, explored my neighborhood, settled into a daily rhythm, but felt more alone than I ever had before. I was making some new friends, but it’s a strange thing to be in a place where I shared history with no one around me.
It was in this vulnerable and dependent context that two very important things happened. First, the faith I’d grown up in – the faith of my father – became my faith. I remember waking up one day, alone in my big house, and thinking to myself that I had better start taking Christianity seriously or just stop pretending. I began to pursue God truly for the first time. It was an amazing time of personal growth. Shortly after that experience another important thing happened. I began to discern a call to full-time ministry. I found it odd because, in a worldly sense, everything was going my way. I was on top of the world. And if I’d been back home, surrounded by all that was familiar, I’d probably have missed the absurd calling of God to drop everything, forfeit all that success, and embark on a life of servitude.
In the early months of my time in Atlanta I often asked God why I was there. When I stopped fighting the wilderness and really started to take a look around, I began to see and hear God as never before. Thank God for wildernesses.
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