He knows it’s been hard. Every long day. Every dark night. Every single step.
He knows we don’t skip through a wilderness. Or stroll. We trudge.
It’s arduous. Taxing. Often uneven. Often unfamiliar. Frustrating.
In the wilderness, your attention, your focus, your priorities are immediately distilled down to the very basics. Food. Water. Shelter. Survival.
In the wilderness, petty things melt away. There is no place for the luxury of distraction.
The wilderness can reveal our shortcomings, our lack of preparation, our fears, our doubts.
The wilderness is not always a place of wandering, though.
Sometimes it is a destination.
It can be a place of instruction and refinement.
It can be a place of transition, a chance to leave the past, and to start over.
It can be a place of restoration, of communion, even of worship.
It becomes the place where the trudging is redeemed.