Soul Remodeling Series: A Wilderness Call [Part 2]

More on Part 1’s spiritual high-wire act.
That deconstructing . . . for your soul’s reconstruction.
Breaking free from preconceived “factions”—becoming Divergent, your unique self in the L-rd.


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The original article was created in late 2014 and posted in early 2015 with some picture additions and post divisions later. Judaic scripture numbering references used.


Read this first: Soul Remodeling: A Wilderness Call [Part 1]




had walked in His wilderness-called journey before. I knew somewhere along the way there would be recalibrating, a spiritual tightrope strung through His basic process: The love call. The soul’s deconstruction and reconstruction. The emergence.


But this time, I felt like there was more at stake on many levels. So I seriously wanted to emerge like the lover in Song of Songs (Song of Solomon) 8:5. “Who is this coming up from the wilderness leaning on her beloved?”


Stripped, humbled, taught, infused with His presence, transformed by His voice, reconstructed. And resting on Him, even more than before. That’s who she is.


Human viewpoint says you have to get tougher, stronger through life’s valleys and potholes. But toughening up solely via your human strength can make you bitter, harder, harsher, louder, colder. Filled with a false sense of power.


In the world’s eyes, the beloved in the Song of Songs should have left her wilderness experience like part of the Dauntless faction in Divergent—bulging muscles, ninja-like skills, kicking some downright serious butt along the way.


Thanks, God. Got it. I’ll take it from here.


Not even. That would mean her soul was disengaged from Him. Flowing in its own words, standards, strength, darkness.


God says that in your weakness, He is made strong. It’s His strength flowing through your soul that you need to rely on—not yours. When you’re humbled before Him, He lifts you up.


So look again at that Song of Solomon 8:5 scripture. She spends time in her soul’s wilderness with her beloved and comes up out of that desert experience. Her soul ascends from where it was, what it was.


How? Leaning on Him. L-e-a-n-i-n-g.


Her soul is no longer rushing ahead in its own strength, own ways, own timing. Nor is it dragging behind Him, fearful, shivering in a corner, not taking any action. Instead, there is a deeper rapport with Him, soul to soul.


Remember that when He gives you a come-to-the-wilderness call.


Your soul is breathed from Him (from the Hebrew word neshama, breath), given the capacity to flow and move with Him (from the Hebrew word ruach, spirit/wind) and called to rest (from the Hebrew words nefesh and nafash, rested breath) in its bodily journey down here . . . surrendered, obedient, in love with Him. Him, your very breath, your very life.


God wants to flow from His throne to and through your opened, connected, humbled soul.





Midway in my multi-year soul reconstruction process, I had questioned God about my wilderness journey. Well, actually, I had questioned Him at the beginning, middle, and just about every place along the way. But I digress.


Then in His kindness, He gave me this vision as His answer.


An image of an arrow flashed before me.
It was notched and rested in the bow’s string, then pulled back.
Way, way back.


God was the archer. His faithfulness, the bow. His strategy, the tension. And I was the arrow that had to “rest” in Him through it all.


I knew where this was headed. Sort of. It was going to take more shifts. Deep shifts. Intentional shifts. Subterranean work.


God likes to hit His target goal—creating something better, greater, eternal within the soul. And that something takes time, precision, and pulling those He loves away from the common and into the holy.


Of course, in the process, you can feel more like a broken arrow, shattered into a gazillion pieces like Moses’ tablets—the ones with the commandments inscribed by God that he threw down at the Golden Calf incident.


But that shattering can be a good thing.


I used to think the Dauntless were fearless.
That is how they seemed, anyway.
But maybe what I saw as fearless was actually fear under control.

—Tris, Divergent by Veronica Roth


According to Talmudic thought, Moses put the new tablets and the shattered tablets into the Ark of the Covenant (Aron HaBrit, אֲרוֹן בְּרִית), the acacia chest overlayed with gold containing a pot of manna, Aaron’s rod, along with the covenantal tablets, Israel’s God-given constitution.


The two sets of tablets stood as a paradoxical lesson.


Both sets reflect your soul. Shattered, yet whole.
Broken, yet engraved with the hand of God.

Your soul arises.
Standing on its brokenness.
Strengthened by Him.


A wilderness walk. A love call off the grid. His glory plan to refine your soul into His image.





Whether working within the soul of a person or a nation, God’s modus operandi is deconstruction before reconstructing and birthing the soul into its destiny or deeper fine-tuning.


I imagine God stretching out His hand to touch our souls during this precarious process much the same way He reached out to touch Jeremiah’s mouth to birth the prophetic, delivering those destiny-driven words in Jeremiah 1:10—uproot and tear down, build and plant.


But the soul’s deconstruction-reconstruction process
takes walking according to His timetable.


So forget thinking you can speed things up. You can’t. Although your balking, rebellion, and ingratitude can alter His time frames. Like Israel’s rebellion turning God’s one-year plan into forty.


You probably know the story. Israel made the exodus from the hard toils of their deconstructive Egyptian experience, yoke free in the natural and witnessing the glorious might of God’s hand. But spiritually? Well, let’s see . . .


Their grumbling, rebellion, lack of gratitude, and lack of joy cost them big time. God gave them one year of discipline for each day of their faith-failed reconnaissance—forty years in the desert vs. God’s intended one-year preferred plan.


Like a woman unable to conceive, their souls were in a state of barrenness. They needed to do the Abraham thing—embark on a lech lecha journey with God, going down into their souls and allowing God to deconstruct them further so their spiritual womb could be healed, opened, and fruitful.


But that first generation couldn’t get with His program.


It would take time, more wilderness, and a totally new generation of believers who would surrender to His process. A generation whose souls would emerge as carriers of His presence, reconstructed, bravely able to stand on their shattered tablets, ready to enter the Land and bring forth the kingdom of God.


Of course, there were ups and downs in that generation . . . and every generation since. We are, after all, fractured like those shattered tablets. But we can be made whole again in Him.


In fact, throughout the Bible, you can see God’s soul process at work: the love call (that come-away-with-me lech lecha journey), followed by the deconstruction-reconstruction soul process, and then the emergence.


Everyday people like you and me on an adventure into His Holy Presence. His soul arrows notched, pulled back, made ready to soar. Click on the link to check out their stories and be encouraged.


from barrenness of soul to prophet—and the world’s matriarch

Each crack of lightning in her story—the call from the polytheistic, cosmopolitan Ur to Haran, move from Haran to Canaan, dealings with Lot, battle with the five kings, sweepings into pharaoh’s and Abimelech’s harems—was a flash of His light, revealing a moment in the soul that sparked attention. Something had to be learned here, absorbed here, infused here, stripped here in order to birth something of greater magnitude later. Read the rest of her story here.


favor lost, favor regained—in spite of himself

Position doesn’t just happen. It’s given by God. Joseph’s prophetic dreams weren’t a free pass to ride the tails of his royal or priest-like, multi-colored coat, k’tonet pasim, כתנת פסים—k’tonet is the name of the high priest’s garment, perhaps a hint of Joseph’s future soul story. Those dreams were manifestations of a calling that would first become a lightning rod in God’s hands— a tool that would spark situations and form a wilderness path for Joseph’s soul. Read the rest of his story here.


fugitive prince turned bride guardian—who almost missed his calling

Egypt proved a blessing for the 12 tribes of Israel during the famine years when Joseph held a high position. Then the shift emerged and Israel experienced over 400 years of oppressive enslavement. But God, in precision timing, was on the move. He separated Moses from the common—his birth tribe and his adopted, privileged position in Egypt—for a series of deconstructing-reconstructing encounters with God to beat all others. God’s lightning revelations flashed through the soul of Moses time and time again. Moses was humbled at the burning bush, silenced at the sight of God’s glory, illuminated at God’s giving of the Torah. Read the rest of his story here.


accidental prophet—cohen priest turned pillar of iron

God’s lightning flashes pierced young Jeremiah’s soul and pronounced its destiny. There would be no discussion, no demonstrations as He had done with Moses. God knew Jeremiah in his mother’s womb. It was a done deal. The initial calling was merely a polite gesture. Jeremiah was going to be strategically placed in God’s archery bow with all kinds of tensions—dark moments taking him to near death—pulling him back so he could be launched higher, further for the sake of God’s mercy, love, covenant with Israel. God’s voice, a “fire” in Jeremiah’s bones would not be silenced. Read the rest of his story here.


persecuting zealot turned God’s servant—the famed pharisee some Jews and Christians love to hate

[Heads-up: Judaic-Messianic Bridge crossing to foster understanding.]

A Jew from the tribe of Benjamin, circumcised on the eighth day, of the nation of Israel, a Hebrew born of Hebrews, a Pharisee and son of a Pharisee, a talmid (student) of the renowned Rabbi Gamaliel, both Jew and Roman citizen (hence his dual name, Saul Paulus).

He made his raison d’être the destruction of Messianic Jews—followers of “The Way” (Jesus/Yeshua, his Hebrew name). But then . . .

Read the rest of his story here.

CREDITS: Flower in Snow photo by Luke Richardson on

CREDITS: Woman on mountaintop by Denys Nevozhai on

CREDITS: Arrows photo by Franck V. on


Journey on