THE MYSTERY OF DIVINE INTERVENTION-Conversation V: God Is Carrying You Somewhere

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.