Welcome to Pomoja Ministry. There is a question
we left hanging at the end of our last conversation.
If God is carrying you, where is He carrying
you? Because when you begin looking carefully
at Scripture, you discover that God rarely carries
His people merely so that they can remain where
He found them. He carries them through something
because there is often something on the other
side. Israel was carried through the wilderness,
but the wilderness was not the destination. Joseph
was preserved through the pit, slavery, false
accusation, and prison, but the prison was not
the destination. Elijah was sustained underneath
the broom tree, but the broom tree was not the
destination. Peter was preserved through failure,
but failure was not his destination. And when
Jesus described the shepherd finding the lost
sheep, the shepherd did not find the sheep merely
to sit beside it in the wilderness. He placed
it upon his shoulders and carried it home. There
is movement in the carrying. There is direction
in the carrying. There is purpose in the carrying.
And perhaps this is another mystery of divine
intervention. God is not only concerned about
what he is bringing you out of. He knows what
he is bringing you toward. Sometimes we become
so consumed with surviving the present season
that we forget there may still be something beyond
it. When you are in the fire, you are thinking
about the fire. When you are in the water, you
are thinking about breathing. When you are in
the wilderness, you are thinking about survival.
When you are in the prison, you are thinking
about freedom. When you are exhausted beneath
the broom tree, you are thinking about rest,
and understandably so. Pain has a way of narrowing
our vision. When something hurts badly enough,
tomorrow becomes difficult to imagine because
today demands all of our attention. But God does
not lose sight of tomorrow simply because we
cannot see it. He can be working with a destination
in mind. while we are still trying to understand
the road, and that changes the question. Maybe
the question is not only, God, why am I going
through this? Maybe another question is, God,
what are you preserving me for? Because sometimes
the fact that God continues sustaining you is
itself evidence that your story is not finished.
Let's talk about Moses in this part one, the
wilderness. was never the destination. Moses
gives us one of the clearest pictures of this.
When he looked backward at Israel's journey,
he said, the Lord your God carried you as a father
carries his son all the way you went until you
reach this place. I love those final words. Until
you reach this place, God's carrying had direction.
Egypt was behind them. The wilderness was around
them. But promise was ahead of them. And this
is important because Israel could easily have
mistaken the wilderness for their new reality.
Imagine living there year after year. Sand. Heat.
Uncertainty. Mana again. Cloud by day. Fire by
night. Moving. Stopping. Moving again. At some
point, a temporary environment can begin to feel
permanent. And maybe somebody listening understands
that. You have been somewhere emotionally, spiritually,
relationally, financially, professionally, or
personally for so long that you have quietly
begun assuming, this must be my life now. But
length does not necessarily determine destination.
Israel spent years in the wilderness. It was
still not Canaan. Joseph spent years away from
the fulfillment of his dream. The delay did not
cancel the dream. David spent years running from
Saul. The cave did not become his throne. There
are places God may sustain you in that he never
intended you to settle for. And this is where
we need wisdom. Because sometimes survival can
become comfortable. We learn how to live in the
wilderness. We learn where the manna falls. We
learn where the water comes from. We learn how
to arrange our tents, we become familiar with
uncertainty, and eventually the place we once
prayed to escape can become the place we are
afraid to leave. But divine intervention sometimes
comes not merely to comfort you in the wilderness.
Sometimes God says, get up, it is time to move.
Because what sustained you in one season may
not be what God intends for the next. Israel
could not build its future around manna forever.
Manna was miraculous, but manna was wilderness
provision. And when Israel entered the land,
the manna stopped. Think about that. Something
supernatural stopped, not because God had abandoned
them, but because they had arrived somewhere
new. Sometimes we interpret the ending of one
form of provision as the disappearance of God
when actually it may be evidence that the season
has changed. Yesterday God carried you one way.
Tomorrow He may carry you another way. The method
can change without the carrier changing. And
that is why faith cannot become attached merely
to methods. Faith must remain attached to God.
Let's discuss about Joseph. preserved for something
he could not yet see. Now think about Joseph.
Joseph receives a dream, and almost immediately
afterward, his life seems to move in the opposite
direction. He dreams of elevation, then goes
down into a pit. He dreams of significance, then
becomes a slave. He remains faithful, then is
falsely accused. He serves well. then is imprisoned.
If Joseph judged God's purpose only by his present
environment, almost every chapter would appear
to contradict the promise. And yet there is a
phrase that keeps appearing in Joseph's story.
The Lord was with Joseph. That phrase matters
because God being with Joseph did not always
mean Joseph's circumstances immediately improved.
God was with Joseph in Potiphar's house. God
was with Joseph in prison. God was with Joseph
before Pharaoh ever knew his name. Which means
divine presence was operating long before public
elevation appeared. And then suddenly the chapter
changes. Pharaoh dreams. Nobody can interpret
it. The cup bearer remembers Joseph. Joseph is
summoned. And in what seems like a single day,
the prisoner becomes the governor. But Joseph's
story is bigger than personal promotion. God
was not merely carrying Joseph toward a better
position. There was famine coming. There were
lives that would need preservation. There was
a family through whom God's covenant purposes
would continue. And years later, when Joseph
finally sees his brothers again, he can interpret
his story differently. You intended to harm me.
But God intended it for good, to accomplish what
is now being done, the saving of many lives.
Joseph can finally see destination. The pit did
not explain itself. The prison did not explain
itself. But eventually, purpose illuminated the
road behind him. And I want to be careful here.
Not every painful thing that happens to us should
be casually labeled as something God caused.
Joseph himself acknowledges human evil. You intended
to harm me. Scripture does not pretend the brothers'
actions were good. They were not. But the mystery
of providence is that human evil did not have
the authority to write the final chapter. You
intended harm, but God. Those may be two of the
most powerful words in Scripture. Human intention
existed, but God. Betrayal existed, but God.
The pit existed, but God. False accusation existed,
but God. Prison existed, but God. The enemy may
influence a chapter. He does not own the author.
And perhaps divine intervention sometimes means
God takes something he did not approve, something
he did not call good, something that genuinely
wounded you, and refuses to allow it to become
meaningless. He redeems. He redirects. He restores.
He preserves. And somehow what was designed to
end you becomes part of a testimony that serves
someone else. Joseph thought he needed deliverance
from prison. God knew nations would need Joseph
outside the prison. There was a destination bigger
than Joseph's comfort. There was assignment.
Let's talk about Elijah. God fed him because
there was still more. Then there is Elijah, one
of the most dramatic prophets in scripture. He
confronts Ahab. He stands on Mount Carmel. He
calls Israel back to God. Fire falls from heaven.
The prophets of Baal are defeated. It is one
of those moments where Elijah appears almost
invincible and then Jezebel sends one message.
Elijah runs. He enters the wilderness. He sits
beneath a broom tree, and he has had enough.
This powerful prophet reaches the end of himself.
And what does God do? God does not begin with
a sermon. God does not shame Elijah for being
exhausted. An angel touches him and says, Get
up and eat. Elijah eats. He rests. The angel
returns and says again, Get up and eat, for the
journey is too much for you. Listen to that language.
The journey is too much for you. That sounds
like carrying. God acknowledges the limitation
of Elijah's strength, but God also knows something
Elijah cannot see in that moment. There is still
journey ahead. There is still instruction ahead.
There are still kings to anoint. There is still
Elisha to call. There is still succession to
establish. There is still assignment. Elijah
thought he had reached the end. God gave him
strength for what came next, and perhaps this
is one of the ways God carries us. Sometimes
he carries us by giving us enough strength for
the next step, not enough information for the
next 10 years, not enough explanation to understand
everything, just enough grace for today, enough
bread, enough water, enough rest, enough strength
to stand again. And then he says, get up. because
there is still somewhere to go. Maybe you are
asking God for the entire map, and God is giving
you bread for the next step. Maybe you are asking
Him to explain your future, and God is saying,
eat, rest, recover, I am not finished with you.
There are seasons when divine intervention looks
dramatic. Fire from heaven, seas opening, prison
doors shaking, angels appearing. But sometimes
divine intervention looks like bread beside an
exhausted man. Sometimes the miracle is sleep.
Sometimes the miracle is strength returning.
Sometimes the miracle is discovering that after
you thought everything was over, God still has
somewhere for you to go. Let's talk about the
master himself, Jesus Christ. The shepherd carries
the sheep home. And then Jesus gives us perhaps
the most intimate picture. A shepherd has one
hundred sheep, one becomes lost. The shepherd
leaves the ninety -nine and goes after the one.
And Jesus says he searches until he finds it,
not until he becomes tired, not until the terrain
becomes difficult, not until darkness falls,
until he finds it. And when he finds the sheep,
he places it upon his shoulders, rejoicing. There
is something beautiful about that picture. The
sheep is no longer navigating. The sheep is no
longer finding its own road. The sheep is no
longer trying to remember where it made the wrong
turn. It is being carried by someone who knows
the way home. And maybe that is what somebody
needs to hear. You do not always need to know
the road when you know the shepherd. There are
seasons where God may not explain every turn,
but He knows where He is taking you. The sheep's
responsibility in that moment is not navigation.
It is surrender. And surrender is difficult because
we like control. We want maps, timelines, dates,
explanations. We want to know when. We want to
know how. We want to know who. We want to know
what happens next. And sometimes God gives answers,
but sometimes He gives something else, His shoulders.
And perhaps faith at its deepest level is saying,
I do not know where this road turns next, but
I know who is carrying me. Because the shepherd
does not carry the sheep deeper into lostness,
he carries it home. Let's bring all these truths
and stories together under this statement. If
God is sustaining you, there may still be an
assignment ahead. Israel. Joseph. Elijah. The
lost sheep. Different circumstances. Different
struggles. Different journeys. But there is a
pattern. God's sustaining presence is moving
somewhere. Israel toward promise. Joseph toward
preservation. Elijah back toward assignment,
the sheep toward home. And perhaps this is the
prophetic word hidden inside this conversation.
Do not build your identity around the place where
God found you. You may be in a wilderness, but
you are not the wilderness. You may have been
betrayed, but betrayal is not your name. You
may have failed. Failure is not your identity.
You may be exhausted. Exhaustion is not your
destiny. You may be waiting. Waiting is not necessarily
your final address. You may be recovering. Recovery
is a season, not necessarily the conclusion.
And perhaps one of the enemy's strategies is
to convince you to build a permanent identity
around a temporary chapter. Joseph could have
become the prisoner. David could have become
the fugitive. Moses could have become the shepherd
in Midian. Peter could have become the disciple
who denied Jesus. Elijah could have become the
prophet under the broom tree. But God continued
writing. And if God is still writing, do not
put a period where God has placed a comma. Maybe
this is why you survived. Not simply so you could
say, I survived. Maybe there is somebody you
will strengthen because you survived. Maybe there
is somebody you will encourage because you understand
the valley. Maybe there is someone whose prison
you will recognize because you remember your
own. Maybe there is someone who will hear your
testimony and discover that their wilderness
does not have to become their grave. We often
ask God, Why did you allow me to survive this?
And sometimes the answer does not become clear
until another person needs what God taught you
there. Jesus said to Peter, Simon, Simon, Satan
has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I
have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may
not fail. And then Jesus says, when you have
turned back, strengthen your brothers. There
it is again. Preservation followed by assignment.
Jesus did not merely pray for Peter so Peter
could survive Peter's worst night. There were
people Peter would strengthen afterward. There
was preaching ahead. There was Pentecost ahead.
There was leadership ahead. There was ministry
ahead. There were people who would encounter
Christ through the testimony of a man who once
denied knowing him. Peter's failure was real.
But it was not final and maybe yours isn't either
Maybe the fact that God kept you is connected
to something you have not seen yet Maybe the
reason the fire did not consume you is because
there is still something your life must carry
Maybe the reason the waters did not sweep you
away is because there is still somewhere your
feet must go Maybe the reason God sustained you
in the wilderness is because the wilderness is
not where your story ends And there is something
else I want you to see. Sometimes the fact that
something survived is itself a prophecy that
God still intends to use it. Look at Moses. Pharaoh
had ordered Hebrew baby boys to die, yet Moses
survived. At the time, nobody looking at that
baby floating in a basket along the Nile could
have understood everything attached to his survival.
There was a burning bush ahead. There was Pharaoh
ahead. There was Passover ahead. There was a
Red Sea ahead. There was a nation waiting to
be delivered. The baby survived, because there
was still an assignment attached to the man he
would become. Look at David. Saul hunted him.
He lived in caves. He moved from place to place.
There were moments when David himself said that
there was only a step between him and death.
Yet David remained. Why? There was still a throne
ahead. There were still Psalms ahead. There was
still Covenant ahead. There was still something
God intended to accomplish through his life.
Look at Paul, beaten, imprisoned, shipwrecked,
stoned and left for dead, threatened, rejected,
yet preserved again and again. And from some
of the very places that appeared to restrict
him, came words that would eventually travel
farther than Paul himself ever could. The prison
restricted the apostle. It did not restrict the
gospel. And this is where preservation begins
to speak. Sometimes surviving yesterday is evidence
that God still has something connected to your
tomorrow. Not because every person will stand
before kings. Not because everyone will receive
a public platform. not because every story ends
in earthly prominence. Purpose is much bigger
than visibility. Sometimes the assignment is
a family. Sometimes the assignment is one child.
Sometimes it is a person God places in your path.
Sometimes it is a testimony. Sometimes it is
faithfulness nobody applauds. Sometimes it is
a seed you plant that another generation will
harvest. But if God has preserved you, do not
assume preservation is meaningless. Ask him,
Lord, what have you kept me for? Not with pressure,
not with anxiety, not because you must manufacture
some enormous destiny, but with surrender. Lord,
whatever remains for me to do, let my life belong
to you. Because maybe preservation itself is
whispering, there is still more. And there is
another deception that happens in difficult seasons.
When the journey becomes long, we assume the
destination must still be far away. But scripture
does not always work that way. Joseph went to
sleep one night as a prisoner. By the end of
the next chapter, he was standing before Pharaoh.
Israel wandered for years, but eventually there
came a day when God said, You have stayed long
enough at this mountain. There are seasons of
preparation that feel endless until suddenly
they are over. There are doors that remain closed
for years and then open in a moment. There are
prayers that appear to be unanswered until the
answer arrives and changes everything. And this
does not mean we should manufacture expectations
or assign dates God has not given us. Faith is
not predicting what God has not promised. Faith
is trusting the God who already sees what we
cannot. But it does mean we should be careful
about assuming that because nothing appears to
be changing, nothing is changing. Roots grow
underground before fruit appears above ground.
Pregnancy develops invisibly before birth becomes
visible. Joseph's prison looked unchanged. the
night before Pharaoh dreamed. Israel's captivity
looked permanent before Moses returned to Egypt.
The stone remained in front of Lazarus's tomb
until Jesus said, take away the stone. There
are moments when years of waiting collide with
one moment of divine intervention. And suddenly
what looked permanent becomes history. So do
not measure God's movement only by visible movement.
You may be closer to something than your circumstances
are able to tell you. And even if the destination
is still far away, the distance does not change
the faithfulness of the one carrying you. But
perhaps this is the most important part of this
conversation. Because if we are not careful,
even a message about destination can cause us
to become obsessed with destination. We begin
asking, Where am I going? When will I arrive?
What is my assignment? What is the promise? What
will God give me? What will the next season look
like? And suddenly our eyes move from the carrier
to the destination. But the deepest gift of divine
intervention is not Canaan. It is not the palace.
It is not the open door. It is not the promotion.
It is not the restoration. It is not even the
answer. It is God Himself. Because you can reach
a destination and still be empty if you arrive
without Him. Moses understood this. When God
spoke about sending Israel forward, Moses essentially
said, If your presence does not go with us, do
not send us up from here. Think about that. Moses
preferred wilderness with God, over promise without
His presence. That is maturity. The goal is not
merely to get somewhere. The goal is to remain
with God wherever he takes you. So yes, believe
there is more. Believe the wilderness is not
necessarily the destination. Believe God can
redeem the pit. Believe he can restore the exhausted.
Believe he can carry the sheep home. Believe
preservation may still have purpose attached
to it. But above everything else, want Him. If
He opens the door, walk with Him. If He closes
the door, stay with Him. If He says move, move
with Him. If He says wait, wait with Him. If
He gives you Canaan, worship Him there. If He
gives you manna in the wilderness, worship Him
there. because the destination is never more
valuable than the presence that carried you to
it. And perhaps that is the safest prayer we
can pray. Lord, I trust where you are taking
me, but more than where you are taking me, I
want you. So maybe today you do not need to understand
the entire destination. Maybe you simply need
enough faith to say, Father, if you are carrying
me, I trust where you are taking me. I trust
you when I understand. I trust you when I do
not. I trust you when the road is visible. I
trust you when the next turn disappears into
darkness. I trust you when you open the door
and I trust you when you close one. I trust you
when you tell me why and I trust you when all
you give me is enough grace for another day.
Because if your arms have carried me this far,
I can trust your heart with where you are taking
me. And perhaps one day, you will arrive somewhere
you could not have imagined while you were crying
in the wilderness. You will look backward. You
will see the pit. You will see the prison. You
will see the broom tree. You will see the waters.
You will see the fire. You will remember the
nights. You will remember the waiting. You will
remember the unanswered questions. And perhaps
things that made no sense while you were living
them will look different from the other side.
You will realize God was not carrying me aimlessly.
There was purpose in the preservation. There
was destination in the sustaining. There was
tomorrow hidden inside the grace that kept me
alive today. And maybe you will finally understand
why God kept whispering through every chapter.
Keep going. Keep believing. Keep trusting. Keep
walking. And when you cannot walk, let me carry
you. Not because the road is easy. Not because
everything that happened was good. Not because
every painful chapter came directly from my hand.
But because none of those chapters possesses
enough authority to cancel what I have purposed.
The pit does not get the final word. The prison
does not get the final word. The wilderness does
not get the final word. Failure does not get
the final word. Exhaustion does not get the final
word. And the enemy does not get the final word.
God does. And if God is still writing, do not
put a period where God has placed a comma. Because
God is not finished. But before we close, there
is another mystery beginning to emerge. Everything
we have explored today involves things we can
recognize when we look backward. Israel could
remember the wilderness. Joseph could remember
the prison. Elijah could remember the broom tree.
Peter could remember his failure. We can look
backward. and identify moments when God sustained
us. But what about the moments we cannot remember?
Because we never knew they happened. What about
the danger you never saw? What about the conversation
happening somewhere else while God was already
defending you? What about the door God refused
to open because he knew what was behind it? What
about the road you wanted to travel but something
delayed you? What about the plan formed against
you that collapsed before it ever reached you?
What about the battle heaven fought on your behalf
that you never knew existed? Because scripture
reveals something extraordinary. There were moments
when God's people were living their lives on
one side of the story. While something concerning
them was happening somewhere they could not see
Israel was below a mountain while Balaam was
above it attempting to pronounce a curse over
them They apparently knew nothing about it, but
God knew Elisha's servant looked around and saw
an enemy army. He thought they were surrounded
then God opened his eyes and he discovered that
an army of heaven had already been there. Peter
was walking toward the most difficult night of
his discipleship, without understanding everything
happening in the spiritual battle surrounding
him. And Jesus told him, Simon, Simon, Satan
has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But then
came the intervention, but I have prayed for
you. Before Peter understood the battle, Jesus
had already prayed. Before Israel knew somebody
wanted to curse them, God had already entered
the situation. Before Elisha's servant could
see the heavenly army, the army was already there.
And that raises one of the most mysterious questions
of this entire season. How many times has God
intervened in your life without you ever knowing
you needed intervention? Maybe some of the greatest
miracles of your life are miracles you will never
be able to testify about because you never knew
they happened. And that is exactly where we will
continue. In conversation six of the mystery
of divine intervention, the interventions you
never saw when God fights battles you didn't
know existed. So until next time, stay encouraged,
stay in faith. Keep walking when God gives you
strength to walk, and when you no longer have
the strength, let Him carry you. You may not
know where He is taking you. You may not understand
why He chose this road. You may not see everything
happening around you, but you know the One carrying
you. And sometimes, that is enough. Stay tuned
as we continue our conversation in the mystery
of divine intervention. This is Pomoja Ministry.
One conversation, one story, one revelation at
a time. Until next time, God bless you.