What the Stripping Reveals

There are seasons in life when what once made us feel secure begins to change. The plans we carefully made no longer unfold the way we expected. The resources we depended upon become uncertain. The recognition we once received grows quiet. The work that once made us feel productive slows down, and suddenly we find ourselves standing in a place where many of the things that helped us feel steady are no longer available.

It is uncomfortable when life becomes stripped down like that. Yet there is something stripping can accomplish that comfort often cannot.

It reveals what has been happening within us.

Deuteronomy 8 gives us an interesting picture of this. Moses is preparing Israel to enter the Promised Land, but before they move forward, he tells them to remember what happened during their forty years in the wilderness. He says that God led them through the wilderness to humble and test them “to know what was in your heart” (Deuteronomy 8:2).

That phrase deserves our attention.

The wilderness revealed the heart.

Israel had spent generations in Egypt. Then God delivered them, led them through the Red Sea, and brought them into a wilderness where many of the things they had previously depended upon were suddenly unavailable. They could not grow enough food to sustain themselves. They could not predict where their next campsite would be. They could not create their own route to the Promised Land. Day after day, they had to depend upon God for direction, provision, and protection.

The wilderness stripped away their ability to depend upon what was familiar.

And what surfaced was not always pretty.

Fear surfaced. Complaining surfaced. Unbelief surfaced. Their longing for Egypt surfaced. Their desire for control surfaced. At times, they even questioned whether God had brought them into the wilderness to destroy them.

But the wilderness did not necessarily create those things.

It exposed them.

That distinction matters because sometimes we look at difficult seasons and assume the circumstances have caused everything happening within us. Certainly circumstances affect us, but they can also reveal things that were much easier to overlook when life felt secure.

When money is available, I may believe I trust God as my provider. But when the money becomes uncertain, I may discover how much of my security was actually resting in the amount available to me.

When people recognize my work, I may believe my confidence is firmly rooted in God. But when the recognition disappears, I may discover how much I depended upon affirmation to reassure me that what I was doing mattered.

When everything goes according to plan, trusting God can feel relatively easy. But when the plan collapses, I may discover that my peace was resting more heavily in knowing what was going to happen than in knowing the One who was leading me.

Even productivity can become a hiding place.

As long as we are accomplishing something, finishing projects, helping people, building something, or checking another task off the list, we can feel useful. Then a season comes when we cannot produce the way we once did, and suddenly questions about our worth begin rising to the surface.

Why?

Because something that was supposed to describe what we did may have quietly begun telling us who we were.

This is why stripping can feel so personal. We think God is dealing with the thing that disappeared, when He may also be revealing what that thing represented within our hearts.

Perhaps the money represented safety.

Perhaps the relationship represented worth.

Perhaps the recognition represented significance.

Perhaps the plan represented control.

Perhaps the productivity represented value.

None of those things are necessarily wrong. We need resources. Relationships matter. Encouragement is meaningful. Planning is wise. Productive work can be deeply fulfilling. The problem begins when something God has given us becomes responsible for providing something only God can ultimately establish.

Deuteronomy 8 continues with another familiar passage. Moses reminds Israel that God allowed them to hunger and then fed them with manna so they would understand that “man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Lord” (Deuteronomy 8:3).

God was teaching them something deeper than how to survive a wilderness.

He was teaching them where life came from.

They needed bread, but bread was not their source.

They needed direction, but knowing the entire route was not their security.

They needed provision, but possessing abundance was not the evidence that God was with them.

The wilderness gave Israel an opportunity to learn something they would desperately need once they entered abundance: everything surrounding their lives could change, but their dependence upon God could not.

Perhaps that is one of the things God teaches us in our own stripped-down seasons.

When something disappears and fear rises, we can ask what the fear is revealing.

When the plan changes and anxiety rises, we can ask what we believed the plan was guaranteeing.

When recognition disappears and insecurity rises, we can ask whose approval had been carrying our confidence.

When productivity slows and our sense of worth begins to suffer, we can ask whether we have confused being fruitful with being valuable.

These questions are not meant to become another form of self-condemnation. God revealing something within us is not the same as God rejecting us because it is there.

Israel’s wilderness was part of their journey with God.

He was teaching them.

He was revealing their dependence.

He was preparing them for what came next.

And perhaps there are seasons when He does something similar within us.

We spend so much time asking God to change what is happening around us that we can miss what He is revealing within us.

Maybe the better question isn’t always, “Lord, when will this season end?”

Sometimes the better question is, “Lord, what is this season showing me?”

Because when everything around us becomes quieter, the condition of our hearts can become much easier to hear.

Sometimes God allows what surrounds us to become quiet enough for us to finally see what has been happening within us.

Reflection

What has this season revealed about where I have been finding my security, identity, or worth?

Has something temporary been carrying a responsibility that belongs to God?

Whatever He reveals, we do not have to be afraid of seeing it. The God who reveals the heart is also the God who patiently teaches us where our security was always meant to rest.

Much Love

~Gayla~