What Now, God?

by Jessica Helm

I entered marriage at the young age of eighteen, full of hope and excitement for the future. I vowed to love and cherish my husband through thick and thin, eager to get my new life started. My visions of what life would look like abounded with possibilities.

Brokenness and the depravity of man swallowed up all of those hopes, dreams, and desires as I faced infidelity and a lack of honesty. The dreams I held dear shattered after seven years of marriage.

I vowed I would never again allow myself to endure such agony. I swore off marriage, convinced no man could meet my list of standards, and waited around for the next “What now, God?” moment. God’s design never included divorce, and yet I found myself packing up every shattered dream and doing life as I never dreamed – alone.

In the summer of 2022, faced with a bitter custody battle that didn’t end in my favor, I was forced to confront yet another upheaval in my life. The custody arrangement for my two children shifted to a 50/50 schedule, leaving me with an empty home and an aching heart. The silence of the house echoed my loneliness, a stark reminder of the loss of control over my own life. As I grappled with this new reality, a dear friend saw the pain in my eyes and urged me to “get away.”

And so, with a heavy heart and a glimmer of hope, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery and healing. The road ahead felt uncertain, but I needed some relief. My friend Paige invited me to join her and a group of adventurers on a journey into the Boundary Waters, a remote wilderness in Ely, Minnesota, accessible primarily by canoe. Paige, a seasoned guide in these lands, was eager to reveal the breathtaking beauty of the pristine forests, glacial lakes, and winding streams of the Superior National Forest. I willingly accepted her offer and began to prepare for our late July/early August expedition.

I wish I could say I spent time preparing myself physically for the challenges ahead, but that would be a lie. I made feeble attempts at readiness, taking the occasional hike and offering up scattered prayers. Truthfully, in the weeks leading up to my departure, I found myself consumed with inner turmoil. I wrestled with God in my heart while struggling to adjust to the absence of my children. I felt deep hurt, anger, and questioned God’s love for me. Did he not see me as a good mother? Had my failures led God to abandon me? Why did he allow the man who caused me so much pain to prosper? In my despair, I felt forgotten and unworthy of his love.

As I prepared to disconnect from the world for a week, I found myself torn between anticipation and a desperate hunger for God’s presence. I longed for him to reveal himself to me in the the wilderness, to show me I wasn’t alone, and that he still loved me. God remained irritatingly quiet, and I was desperate for answers.

My friend Paige, along with her husband, her mother, her college friend, her husband’s best friend Tim, and I all embarked on this wilderness trip together. Despite our varying skill levels, we found that our strengths complemented each other, forming quite the crew.

Paige and I shared a canoe on the first day of paddling. As we navigated the waters, we discussed the unexpected twists and turns life threw our way, marveling at how far we’d come. Paige revealed her plan to mix up the boat assignments each day, ensuring that we all get to know each other better. She also mentioned we would each share our testimonies throughout the week and urged me to prepare myself. Paige kept bringing up Tim’s name, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something brewed beyond my control. I pushed the thought aside, though, focusing instead on my wavering faith in God.

Twelve treacherous yet serene miles later we finally reached our first campsite. We filled the night setting up tents, cooking over an open fire, swimming, and engaging in deep conversations. Paige shared her journey to finding Christ and the trials she overcame, emphasizing God’s unwavering faithfulness. Exhausted from the day’s journey, we all collapsed into our sleeping bags, but the weight of Paige’s words and God’s unwavering faithfulness hung heavy in my heart.

I awoke with anticipation and eagerness the following morning, yearning for a moment of solitude with God. The beauty of my surroundings lingered in my mind – the towering pine trees, the crystal-clear water, the absolute stillness enveloping me – as I sat with my Bible, journal, and the book Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortland. In his book, Dane writes,

The point in saying that Jesus is lowly is that he is accessible. For all his resplendent glory and dazzling holiness, his supreme uniqueness and otherness, no one in human history has ever been more approachable than Jesus Christ (p. 20).

This notion of God’s approachability left me bewildered, especially as I pleaded with him for a different outcome, only to receive a resounding, “No!” in return.

As I engaged in a fervent dialogue with God, I felt his unexplainable peace wash over me, challenging my beliefs and urging me to see his goodness. The following day mirrored the first, as we embarked on another thirteen-mile canoe journey while forging deeper connections with one another. Despite our fatigue, we set up camp, cooked over an open flame, and shared our testimonies again. My turn to speak came this evening. Like Paige, I accepted Christ as my personal savior in my youth. I shared with the group my uncertainties about God’s plan for me, including the need for clarity and guidance from him.

The next morning, I rose early once more to immerse myself in God’s Word. Dane Ortland’s words echoed in my mind again,

Jesus can no more bring himself to stiff-arm you than the loving father of a crying newborn can bring himself to stiff-arm his dear child. Jesus’ heart is drawn out to you (p. 55).

At that moment, I envisioned my own children and the depth of love I feel for them. As a parent, I must at times make tough decisions to protect and provide the best for my children. A necessary part of that role includes saying “no” to seemingly good opportunities. It never diminishes my love for them, though, just as God’s love for me remains unwavering despite the challenges I face. I now confronted the series of lies I so elegantly weaved together in my mind and believed. God’s Word contradicted my thinking.

Placed in a boat with Tim for an eight-hour paddling journey, I decided to break the ice with a round of questions. What started as a simple conversation quickly turned into a deep and meaningful exchange. Tim shared his testimony of faith, hope, and resilience in the face of adversity. His experiences mirrored my own, and I found myself drawn to his strength and character. As we talked, I found a familarity in the structure of our conversations.

Unintentionally, we began talking through the items on my list of traits for a future spouse. It began to clearly see God at work in our midst. Throughout our trip, God’s presence felt palpable. From setting up camp to exploring God’s creation, every moment fueled a sense of purpose and connection. As Tim shared his desire to walk in obedience with the Lord and his hope for a future family, it became clear to me that God was up to something amazing.

We gathered for a final evening of sharing testimonies and affirmations. Each person in the group spoke words of encouragement and admiration, highlighting the unique qualities they saw in one another. After our discussion, we ventured into the night to gaze upon the stars. The night sky was a breathtaking sight, more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before. The stars shone brightly, and shooting stars streaked across the sky, leaving us in silent awe of our Creator. In the end, this journey was not just about paddling through the waters or setting up camp. It was a journey of self-discovery, faith, and connection. As we prepared to return home, I knew God’s hand guided us every step of the way.

As the sun rose the next morning, I found myself perched on a rock overlooking a vast lake. In the quiet stillness, I reflected on all God accomplished in my life that week. Opening the pages of Gentle and Lowly, I came across a passage that struck a chord deep within me.

The battle of the Christian life is to bring your own heart into alignment with Christ’s, that is, getting up each morning and re-placing your natural orphan mind-set with a mind-set of full and free adoption into the family of God through the work of Christ your older brother, who loved you and gave himself for you out of the overflowing fullness of his gracious heart (p. 181).

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the truth. I had been living a lie, my heart out of alignment with God. But in that moment, I understood God’s unwavering love for me. He sent his son to die for me out of the abundance of his gracious heart.

I am not a failure.

God is not punishing me.

My story is not over even though life is difficult.

In the midst of chaos and heartache, it sometimes feels impossible to comprehend how tragedy can turn into something good. Beauty out of ashes. But we serve a God whose heart overflows with grace. My time on that rock came, not as the end of my story, but as a moment of realignment. And as I continue my journey, I see evidence of God’s faithfulness woven throughout.

My transformative experience in the Boundary Waters took place two years ago. God worked miracles in my life there. Not only did God bring healing into my soul, but he also blessed me with my new husband, Tim.

Through Tim, God healed my deepest wounds and showed me the true meaning of Christ-like love in a marriage. My question, “What now, God?” transformed into a resounding declaration of “What’s next, God?” Truly, His power and grace know no bounds.