Lord,
Here in the quiet places where the landmarks vanish
and familiar paths fade, I feel how small I truly am.
The wilderness stretches wide, my strength runs thin, and yet — You are here.
You were the God of Israel in the desert, the God who fed with manna, who guided by pillar and cloud.
You were the God who walked with Jesus into the wilderness — he was hungry, tempted, but unafraid.
You conquered where we fall, so walk with me now where I wander.
When my heart is dry like dust, send water from the Rock.
When my faith trembles, steady me with Your Word.
When the enemy whispers shortcuts and doubt, speak louder with truth than the lies that chase me.
Make obedience sweeter than relief, and trust deeper than understanding.
Teach me to live not by bread alone, but by every word that You breathe.
Shape me in the silence.
Strip me of what I cannot carry into Your promise.
Give me courage to stay when it’s easier to run, and grace to move when You say “go.”
Lead me one step at a time, cloud by day, fire by night.
Turn this wilderness into a place of encounter — where roots grow deep, purpose is refined, and my heart learns to sing again.
When the path opens, I will walk out changed. Not because I found my way, but because You walked it with me.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.