Mark Goering
09/01/25
15 min
Now we can see it clearly. The pattern that has been emerging, the principle that has been whispering through the stories of Jesus and Paul, comes into sharp focus. This is not about random experiences or coincidental journeys. This is a profound divine strategy of preparation.
Jesus modeled something revolutionary: What it means to be both Son and apostle—completely identified with God, yet sent on a mission. His wilderness experience wasn’t just about personal identity or mere testing. It was about both, intrinsically and inseparably intertwined.
Look at the progression. Divine affirmation first. “You are my beloved Son.” Not a conditional statement. Not a performance-based declaration. An absolute, unconditional identity. Then wilderness. Not as a contradiction of that identity, but as the very mechanism of its deepening and demonstration.
In the wilderness, Jesus didn’t try to prove His sonship. He lived from it. Each temptation became an opportunity to demonstrate what it means to be truly aligned with the Father. “Man shall not live by bread alone.” “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve.” These were not desperate assertions, but calm expressions of a deeply rooted identity.
The same pattern emerges with Paul. His dramatic conversion was not the end point, but the beginning. Those years of apparent obscurity were not a pause in his calling, but the very preparation for it. His apostolic function was being forged in the crucible of transformation.
This is the profound insight: Apostolic function—true mission as a sent one—is born out of both identity and testing. Not one or the other. Both together.
It’s a counterintuitive process. When we expect immediate action, God prepares. When we demand instant visibility, He works in secret. When we rush toward mission, He invites deep formation.
The wilderness is not a detour. It is the pathway.
Identity is not something static to be preserved. It is dynamic, to be lived. Tested. Proven. Deepened.
For both Jesus and Paul, their wilderness seasons were essential. Not optional extras. Not unfortunate delays. But vital preparation. Each temptation, each moment of testing, was an opportunity to align more deeply with their true identity and purpose.
This speaks to a fundamental truth about calling. Your mission is not separate from who you are. It emerges from the deepest parts of your identity. And that identity is refined through testing, through wilderness, through seasons of stripping away.
The world looks for quick results, for immediate impact. But God’s economy is different. He is not interested in surface-level performance. He is committed to deep transformation.
Consider the implications. Your wilderness season is not a mistake. It is not a punishment. It is not a setback. It is preparation. It is where your truest self is being formed. Where your mission is being clarified. Where your identity is being integrated with your calling.
This is not about achieving more. This is about becoming more fully who you are created to be.
The voice that spoke over Jesus—”You are my beloved Son”—speaks over you as well. Not as a distant promise, but as a present reality. Your identity is not something you earn. It is something you are invited to live from.
And the wilderness? It is not your enemy. It is your teacher. Your refining fire. Your preparation ground.
Will you trust the process? Will you lean into the preparation? Will you allow these seasons of testing to form you, to clarify you, to prepare you for the mission you are called to?
The wilderness is not the end of your story. It is the beginning.
Challenges and Barriers: Wrestling with the Wilderness
Let’s be honest—wilderness seasons are hard. They defy our expectations. They challenge our assumptions. They test our deepest convictions about God, about ourselves, about calling.
You receive a clear word from God. A profound sense of calling. A moment of divine affirmation. Your heart burns with vision, with purpose, with anticipation. And then… wilderness. Silence. Waiting. Testing.
It feels wrong. Everything in our culture screams against it. Success should be immediate. Growth should be visible. Progress should be measurable. The path should be clear.
But what if our resistance to the wilderness reveals something profound about our understanding of calling? What if our discomfort with these seasons exposes our deeper assumptions about how God works?
Consider the natural responses to wilderness seasons:
We question our calling. Was that word from God real? Did I misunderstand? Why would God affirm me only to lead me into a desert? The silence feels like contradiction, like divine disapproval.
We try to escape. Surely there must be a shortcut. A way around. A faster path to fulfillment. We look for alternatives, for easier routes, for ways to bypass the stripping and testing.
We become discouraged. The waiting feels endless. The silence feels heavy. The testing feels cruel. We wonder if we’ve been forgotten, abandoned, set aside.
Yet these very responses reveal why the wilderness is necessary. They expose our attachment to control, to visibility, to immediate validation. They reveal how much we need this season of deep preparation.
Remember Jesus in His wilderness. The temptations He faced weren’t just about external actions. They were about identity. About purpose. About the very nature of His mission.
Turn stones to bread—prove your identity through supernatural demonstration.
Throw yourself down—force God’s hand, demand visible validation.
Bow down to Satan—take a shortcut to fulfilling your mission.
Each temptation offered a way around the wilderness. Each suggested an easier path. And each would have fundamentally compromised the very mission Jesus came to fulfill.
The same is true for us. Our wilderness seasons aren’t just about waiting. They’re about formation. About the deep alignment of identity and calling. About learning to live from who we are rather than for what we do.
The wild animals were with Jesus in His wilderness. The angels attended Him. He wasn’t abandoned. He was attended. Supported. Prepared.
Your wilderness may feel empty, but you are not alone. The very Spirit that led Jesus into His wilderness leads you. The same Father who spoke identity over Jesus watches over you. The same divine strategy of preparation is at work.
Will you trust the process? Will you allow the wilderness to do its deep work of preparation? Will you resist the urge to escape, to prove yourself, to force your way forward?
The wilderness is not your enemy. It is your ally in becoming who you are truly called to be.
Embracing the Wilderness
We began our journey by the Jordan River, watching as heaven split open and a voice declared identity over Jesus. We followed Him into the wilderness, understanding how that place of testing became the very ground of preparation for His mission. We walked with Paul through his years of obscurity, seeing how the same pattern emerged—identity, wilderness, mission.
Through these stories, a profound truth has emerged: The wilderness is not a detour from our calling. It is the pathway to it.
This is God’s counterintuitive strategy of preparation. When we expect immediate action, He invites us into stillness. When we demand instant results, He works beneath the surface. When we rush toward visible impact, He draws us into hidden formation.
The principle stands clear: True apostolic function—genuine, transformative mission—emerges from the intersection of identity and testing. It’s not enough to know who we are. That identity must be tested, proven, integrated through the crucible of wilderness seasons.
This understanding changes everything. Your wilderness is not punishment. It’s not divine disapproval. It’s not a mistake. It is preparation—sacred, necessary, profound.
Those seasons of silence? They’re forming you. Those times of testing? They’re preparing you. Those moments of stripping away? They’re focusing you.
The invitation stands before you now. Will you embrace your wilderness? Will you trust that these seasons of apparent barrenness are actually seasons of deep fertility? Will you allow God’s process of preparation to have its full work in you?
Consider Jesus, attended by wild animals and angels. Consider Paul, his zealous nature not destroyed but transformed. Your wilderness may feel empty, but you are not alone. The same Spirit that led them leads you. The same Father who spoke identity over them speaks over you.
The only question is: How will you respond?
Will you fight the wilderness, or embrace it? Will you resist the stripping, or welcome it? Will you demand shortcuts, or trust the process?
Your calling is too important for shallow preparation. Your mission is too significant for superficial formation. The wilderness is not your enemy—it is God’s chosen instrument for deep, lasting transformation.
Step into it with courage. Enter it with trust. Embrace it with hope.
For beyond the wilderness lies mission. Beyond the testing lies impact. Beyond the stripping lies genuine, transformative ministry that flows not from what you do, but from who you have become.
The wilderness awaits. And it is holy ground.