This Wilderness Won’t Waste Me: When Life Breaks You, But God Is Birthing Something Greater

By Sherita Jones | The Anointing Grace

I’m writing to the one who’s lost count of how many battles you’ve fought this year. The one who’s exhausted from holding it together while everything around you feels like it’s falling apart. The one who still whispers “God, I trust You” even when heaven feels silent.

If that’s you, pull up a chair. Let’s breathe together for a moment.

When the Fire Won’t End

I know the look in your eyes, the mixture of faith and fatigue. You pray, fast, worship, and still wonder, “Did I do something wrong?” You flip through memories like pages, trying to pinpoint the moment the storms started lining up outside your door.

I’ve asked the same questions. I, too, have stared down nights so dark they felt starless. I’ve felt the sting of injustice, the ache of loss, and the heaviness of responsibilities that keep multiplying while resources keep shrinking. I get it, the fire feels unending.

The Questions No One Talks About

Nobody told me spiritual battles could feel this lonely.

Nobody warned me that I’d wrestle with thoughts like,

“Maybe I’m the problem.”

“Maybe God stepped back.”

“Maybe this wilderness is proof I’m unworthy.”

But here’s what I’ve learned on the other side of those sleepless nights:

Wilderness seasons are not signs of rejection; they’re seasons of preparation. The questions that surface in the fire are invitations to deeper revelation, not proof of failure. When God is silent, it’s often because He’s doing His deepest work beneath the surface.

The Pressing Is Birthing Something

Oil doesn’t flow without crushing.

Wine doesn’t pour without pressing.

Gold doesn’t shine without fire.

So what if your pressing is producing oil for the next generation?

What if your crushing is unlocking authority hell has dreaded since the day you were born?

What if your wilderness isn’t wasting you, it’s weaponizing you?

Take heart:

The wilderness births clarity. 

Distractions burn off in the desert.

The wilderness births deliverance. 

Old chains snap when the heat rises.

The wilderness births intimacy. 

There’s no competition for God’s voice when every earthly crutch is gone.

In other words, you’re not just surviving this. You’re becoming through this.

God Is Faithfully Present and Eternally Intentional

It might feel like everything is being stripped, but the Potter never takes His eyes off the clay. He spins the wheel, applies pressure, and keeps shaping, because He sees the vessel you cannot yet imagine.

“I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried. They shall call on My name, and I will hear them.”  Zechariah 13:9

That’s His promise. He will hear you.

Even here. Especially here.

A Declaration for the Valley

I invite you to let go of the shame, grab a hold of hope, and declare out loud:

This wilderness won’t waste me.

It’s not punishment, it’s placement.

I may be walking through fire, but I won’t come out empty.

I’m being refined, not ruined.

Say it until you believe it.

Say it until the walls shake and despair lets go.

Say it every morning, because faith comes by hearing.

One Last Whisper

If no one has told you lately: you are doing better than you think.

You are still here. Still breathing. Still reaching.

That alone is a miracle in motion.

So hold your head high, even if your knees tremble.

Gather manna for today, rest when you can, and let God fight the battles you can’t.

This wilderness won’t waste you,

He’s birthing something greater.