Desire Of My Soul

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 Lord.


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




Ihad 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) . . .


Your soul is given the capacity to flow and move with Him (from the Hebrew word ruach, spirit/wind) . . .


Your soul is 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.


The point is, I felt like I was buried beneath mounds of snow. Forgotten. Useless. Then in His kindness, God 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 story stands 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—His time frame, not yours—to refine your soul into His image.




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

Read her story here.

favor lost, favor regained—in spite of himself

Read his story here.

fugitive prince turned bride guardian—who almost missed his calling

Read his story here.

accidental prophet—cohen priest turned pillar of iron

Read his story here.

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

Read his story here.


Flower in Snow photo by Luke Richardson on

Smashed pottery by Matt Artz on


NOTE: The original Soul Remodeling post was created in late 2014, then later, post divisions were added for easier reading.


Desire of my Soul Author
Servant of the Living God. Book developmental editor, book line editor, writer, exploring the subterranean deep of Adonai's words, stories, character, faithfulness, love. Stirring the soul toward Him, bridging understanding along the Judaic-Messianic/Christian continuum for His Glory.
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Walking God’s Bridge.