Good morning church and welcome to a unique moment. Today, we're not just speaking to everyday life—we're speaking to the road, the trail, and the race.
Let me ask you something: Have you ever run past a water station and immediately regretted it?
You’re feeling strong, a bit proud even, thinking “I’m good. I’ll take water at the next one.”
But then suddenly… The sun beats down, the road stretches out, your legs get tight, the silence kicks in, and your body starts reminding you—you needed that water. That last water station starts to feel like a distant memory from another life. I remember a runner once told me (true story or you can personalise it): “The worst part of a race isn’t the start or the finish—it’s the long, lonely silence in the middle, when all the cheering has faded and your only sound is your breath and your thoughts.”
That stretch—between the comfort, between the noise, between the water stations—that’s what I want to talk about today. Because life has wildernesses too. And spiritually, some of you here might feel like you’re in that same long stretch.
You've passed the last miracle. You remember when God showed up. But now it’s quiet. Now it’s dry. And your soul is asking: “Where is God?” Alright, let’s take a moment and go to the Word of God together—
Exodus 17:1–7. It’s a powerful moment in Israel’s journey that many of us can relate to more than we might realise. At this point in their story, the Israelites had just experienced some of the most incredible miracles in history. I mean, they walked out of Egypt after years of slavery—that wasn’t just a coincidence, which was God’s hand. That was a miracle! And then, not long after, they stood at the edge of the Red Sea, completely trapped. Pharaoh’s army behind them, water in front of them… and what does God do? He parts the sea! Another miracle. They walk through on dry ground. Come on, that’s next-level supernatural. And as if that wasn’t enough, God gives them divine navigation: a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. Can you imagine that? Literally following God’s visible presence every single day. There was no doubt He was with them.
But then… the wilderness.
They arrive at a place called Rephidim, and suddenly the situation changes. The Bible says there was no water for the people to drink. No water in the middle of a dry land. No refreshment. No visible solution. And just like that, the faith they had from Egypt and the Red Sea starts to fade. The confidence they had when they were following the cloud, and the fire now feels distant. So, they begin to complain. They argue with Moses. And then they ask one of the most honest, raw questions in Scripture:
“Is the Lord among us or not?”
Doesn’t that just hit home?
Because we’ve all been there, haven’t we? You’ve had your own moments of breakthrough. Times where God clearly showed up in your life—He provided when you didn’t know how, He opened a door no one else could, He gave you peace when things were falling apart. You’ve had your Red Sea moments. You’ve felt His presence, no question about it.
But now… things are dry. Silent. You’re in a stretch of life that feels like the wilderness. You’re showing up, you’re still running the race, but your soul is parched. There’s no “water” for your spirit. You’re not hearing from God like you used to. You’re not feeling the encouragement. The miracles seem like they belong to another season. And quietly, deep down in your heart, you find yourself asking the same thing Israel asked:
“God… are You still here? Did You leave me in this stretch?”
If that’s you, you're not alone. God put that question in the Bible for a reason—because He knew you’d be asking it too. And today, He wants to meet you right there. Not just at the finish line. Not only at the water stations. Right in the middle of the wilderness.
This brings me to my first point today: Let’s talk about something that’s both comforting and challenging to grasp: God is present in the wilderness. You know, one of the most beautiful and reassuring passages in Scripture comes from Psalm 139:7–10. It says, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast.”
That’s powerful. What David is saying here is this: there’s nowhere you can go where God won’t meet you. No height, no depth, no dark place, no silent stretch is outside of His reach.
But let’s be real. Just because God is there doesn’t always mean it feels like He is. Sometimes life gets quiet. And for many of us, silence can feel like absence. But let me encourage you with this: silence is not absence.If you’ve ever run a long race—or eve n just gone on a long, tough journey—you’ll know this feeling. At the start, there’s energy. There’s noise. There’s cheering. People are clapping, music is playing, the adrenaline is high. And at the finish line? Same thing. More noise, more excitement, more people celebrating.
But in between? In the middle miles, on the trail, when it’s just you and your thoughts, when the sun is hot and your legs are heavy—there’s no crowd. No applause. Just silence.
But do you know who is still there? A good coach. A good coach doesn’t just wait at the start or wave from the sidelines at the end. A good coach walks the trail. Paces beside you. Says nothing when you’re pushing through the pain but watches closely, supporting when it counts most.
And our God? He’s that Coach. He’s not just at the starting line of your faith journey, and He’s not just waiting with a medal at the end of your race. He’s in the middle of your wilderness stretch. He’s there when things are dry, when your prayers feel unanswered, when your spirit feels alone. He’s with you in the silence. He’s with you in the solitude.
So, here’s the encouragement: don’t measure God’s presence by how loud life is. Don’t assume that just because you can’t feel the goosebumps or hear the thunder that He’s not working. Measure His presence by His promise.
You don’t train for applause. You train for something deeper. Endurance. Faith. Trust. That kind of training happens when the crowd disappears. When no one sees your effort. When you run simply because you know the goal is worth it. So don’t expect the wilderness to be loud. Don’t panic when it’s quiet. That’s often where God speaks the clearest. Not in the earthquake. Not in the fire. But in the still, small voice. And that voice? It’s always present. Even in the wilderness.
My second point: Let’s move to something that’s not always easy to hear, but it’s so important for our growth: God uses the wilderness to shape us.
James 1:2–4 says, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” That’s a tough verse, isn’t it? Joy… in trials? But James isn’t saying we need to enjoy suffering. He’s saying we can find joy through it because God is using it to shape something in us that comfort never could.
Let’s take it back to the race picture. Races aren’t won at the water stations. Those are moments of refreshment, yes—but the real battle, the real transformation, happens between the stations. That’s where the road stretches long, the sun feels hotter, and your legs are screaming at you to stop. That’s when your mind must lock in. That’s where discipline kicks in. That’s where your breathing gets tested. That’s where you find out what’s inside of you.
And the same goes for your faith. It’s in the wilderness—the dry, quiet, uncomfortable places—that God trains us the most deeply. Not when everything is going right, but when everything feels uncertain. That’s where He builds endurance. That’s where He refines our trust. That’s where He strips away all the extra noise—our comforts, our distractions, even our pride—and brings us back to Him.
And here’s the thing: what feels like a delay might be development. You might be asking, “Why is this season so hard?” or “Why am I not seeing breakthrough yet?” But God is doing something in you before He does something through you. He’s forming a depth that isn’t shaped by comfort but by perseverance.
Because in the wilderness, you stop depending on easy things. You stop living off surface-level faith. You stop chasing blessings and start clinging to the Blesser. You stop asking, “What can God do for me?” and start asking, “Who is God to me when everything is stripped away?”
The wilderness humbles you.
It confronts your ego.
It teaches you to walk not by sight, but by faith.
And most importantly, it teaches you to love God not just for what He gives—but for who He is.
So don’t rush through the wilderness. Don’t despise it. Let it do its work. Let endurance have its full effect. Because in that space, God is building a faith in you that’s not shallow or shaky—but strong, mature, and unshakable. My last point: Now let’s talk about something that we all need to hold on to, especially when the journey gets long and the road gets dry:
God will provide when you need it most. There’s a powerful promise in Isaiah 40:29–31 that says, “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
That’s not just poetic language. That’s truth. That’s God’s Word for people who are in a place where their strength has run out. And if that’s you today, let this sink in: God will renew your strength. Not. Not hopefully. He will.
Now let’s go back to Exodus 17 for a moment. The people of Israel were in the middle of a dry, desperate wilderness. No water. No refreshment. Nothing in sight to ease the pressure. But what did God do? He told Moses to take his staff, go to the rock, and strike it. And when Moses obeyed, water gushed out of the rock—not just a few drops, but enough to satisfy the entire community.
Now here’s what stands out to me: God didn’t provide the water when they wanted it. He provided it when it was time. There’s a difference. Sometimes we feel like God’s help is delayed, but it’s actually perfectly timed. He knew exactly when they’d need it most.
Today you’re in that dry place. You’re spiritually dehydrated. You’re running on empty. You’ve got nothing left in the tank. And you’re thinking, “God, if You don’t show up now, I don’t know how I’m going to make it.”
Let me encourage you with this: The Rock is still there.
His grace hasn’t dried up. His presence hasn’t moved on without you. Living water still flows—you just need to cry out. Don’t quit now. Don’t give up. Just like in that race, when a runner thinks they’ve reached the end and suddenly they feel a second wind—that’s not always adrenaline. Sometimes, that’s supernatural strength.
We call it a “second wind,” but spiritually, it’s what Isaiah talks about. Renewed strength. It’s not your own energy. It’s not willpower. It’s grace. That moment when your strength ends is exactly where His strength begins.
So, hear me today: His help is never too late. It might not come the moment you ask, but it will come when it’s most needed. The water will flow. The strength will return. Just like God provided for Israel in the wilderness, He will provide for you. Cry out to Him.Don’t quit. Grace will meet you where your strength runs out.
Here’s what I know to be true—for every runner, and honestly, for every believer—you’re going to have highs and lows in this race. That’s just part of the journey. Whether you're running a literal ultra-marathon or navigating the race of life and faith, there are going to be moments where everything feels strong and full of momentum… and then there are going to be stretches where your legs cramp, your lungs burn, and your motivation starts slipping away. You wonder if you’ve got what it takes to keep going. You question whether you can make it to the next mile marker, never mind the finish line.
And in those moments—don’t just reach for a gel packet or your own willpower. Reach for Jesus. He is the One who sustains us when everything else runs dry. The truth is that this race isn't about finishing. It’s about how you run. With faith. With endurance. With trust in the One who never leaves your side.
You see, God isn’t only in the medals. He’s not just standing at the mountaintops waiting for you to celebrate. He’s not just at the water stations giving you a pat on the back. He’s in the in-between. He’s in the quiet, lonely stretches. He’s in the mid-race aches. He’s there when it’s dry. When you’re tired. When you're barely hanging on.
So today, no matter where you are in your race—whether you're full of fire or just barely putting one foot in front of the other—I want to remind you: You’re not alone. God is not waiting for you at the finish line. He’s running with you through the wilderness. He’s the strength in your weakness. He’s the water in your dry places. He’s the Coach who never let’s go.
Let’s take a moment and pray together:
🧎 “Lord, thank You that You don’t just meet us in our victories—but You walk closely with us through our valleys. You’re not just the God of the finish line… You are the God of the middle miles. The silent miles. The painful miles. And we thank You for that. Right now, I pray for every runner in this room—physically and spiritually. I ask that You would strengthen their hearts and renew their strength. Lord, when it gets dry, when it feels lonely, when the road ahead seems endless, remind us that You are near. That the Rock still gives water. That Your grace is still flowing. Let us run not just with passion, but with purpose. With grit, with faith, and with our eyes fixed on You. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
