THE MYSTERY OF DIVINE INTERVENTION-Conversation III: When God Carries You

Welcome to Pomoja Ministry. There is something

about divine intervention that we often misunderstand

because when we ask God to intervene, we usually

already have an idea of what His intervention

should look like. If there is a Red Sea in front

of us, we expect Him to divide it. If there is

an enemy pursuing us, we expect Him to defeat

that enemy. If there is a closed door, we expect

Him to open it. If there is a storm, We expect

Him to calm it. If there is a sickness, we pray

for healing. If there is a battle, we pray for

victory. If there is a mountain, we ask God to

move it. And there is nothing wrong with any

of those prayers, because throughout Scripture,

God reveals himself as the God who opens doors,

divides, sees, defeats armies, heals diseases,

calms storms, moves mountains, breaks chains,

and makes a way where there seems to be no way.

But there is another dimension of divine intervention

that we do not talk about enough. Sometimes God

does not remove what you are facing. Sometimes

he does not immediately change the environment

around you. Sometimes the sea remains deep. Sometimes

the wilderness remains long. Sometimes the valley

remains dark. Sometimes the fire remains hot.

Sometimes the storm continues blowing. Sometimes

the prison door does not immediately open. And

yet... God has intervened because divine intervention

is not only God changing what is happening around

you. Sometimes divine intervention is God sustaining

you through what he has not yet changed. And

perhaps that is one of the greatest mysteries

of our journey with God. There are moments when

God delivers you from something and there are

moments when God carries you through something.

Those are not the same kind of miracle. When

God delivers you from something, you can often

point toward the moment when everything changed.

The door opened. The diagnosis changed. The enemy

disappeared. The answer arrived. The battle ended.

But when God carries you through something, the

miracle can be much harder to recognize because

the circumstances may look almost exactly the

same. The fire is still there. The water is still

rising. The wilderness is still stretching before

you. The night is still dark. And yet somehow,

you are still here. Somehow, what should have

destroyed you did not destroy you. What should

have broken you did not finish you. What should

have swallowed you did not swallow you. What

should have caused you to abandon your faith

somehow drove your roots deeper into God. And

when you look backward, You cannot fully explain

how you made it. Maybe that is because there

are seasons of life that were never survived

by your strength. You were carried. Part One

There are miracles we only recognize afterward.

One of the difficulties with divine intervention

is that we often expect to recognize it while

it is happening. We expect something dramatic,

something unmistakable. something that announces

God has arrived. But scripture repeatedly shows

us that some of God's greatest interventions

are only understood when people look backward.

Joseph did not understand the pit while he was

inside it. He did not understand slavery while

he was serving in Potiphar's house. He did not

understand the prison while the door remained

locked. There was no visible throne in the prison.

There was no royal robe hanging outside his cell.

There was no announcement saying, Joseph, do

not worry. This prison is actually a corridor

leading toward Pharaoh's palace. All Joseph could

see was the season he was living, but God could

see where he was carrying him. And years later,

Joseph could look backward and say to the brothers

who had sold him, you intended to harm me, but

God intended it for good. Notice when Joseph

understood it. Not in the pit. Not while being

sold. Not in Potiphar's house. Not while falsely

accused. Not necessarily during those long nights

in prison. He understood it from the other side.

And there are things about your life that may

only make sense from the other side. There are

places where you are asking God for explanations

while God is giving you preservation. There are

seasons where you are asking God, why am I here?

while heaven is saying, just keep trusting me

because where you are is not where your story

ends. This is why we must be careful about interpreting

God's presence according to our circumstances

because difficulty does not mean abandonment,

silence does not mean absence, delay does not

mean denial, and suffering does not automatically

mean that God has stepped away. Sometimes God

is closer than you realize precisely because

the road has become harder. Isaiah 43 gives us

one of the clearest pictures of this mystery.

God says, When you pass through the waters, I

will be with you. And when you pass through the

rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you

walk through the fire, you will not be burned.

There is something extraordinary about those

words. God does not say there will be no waters.

He does not say there will be no rivers. He does

not say there will be no fire. He promises something

deeper. I will be with you. We often want the

promise to read, when you approach the waters,

I will remove them. But sometimes the promise

is, when you pass through the waters, I will

be with you. We want, when you see the fire,

I will extinguish it. But sometimes God says,

When you walk through the fire, you will not

be burned. That means the miracle is not always

the disappearance of the fire. Sometimes the

miracle is that the fire cannot destroy what

God has decided to preserve. Shadrach, Meshach,

and Abednego discovered this. God could have

prevented Nebuchadnezzar from throwing them into

the furnace. He could have changed the king's

heart. He could have extinguished the furnace.

He could have sent rain. He could have caused

the soldiers to drop them before reaching the

flames. God had unlimited possibilities available

to him, but he allowed them to enter the furnace.

And then something happened that nobody expected.

Nebuchadnezzar looked into the fire and asked,

weren't there three men that we tied up and threw

into the fire? They answered him, certainly your

majesty. And then the king said something astonishing.

I see four men walking around in the fire, unbound

and unharmed. Do you see the mystery? God did

not keep them from the fire. God met them in

the fire. The environment did not have to change

for God's presence to become real. And somebody

needs to understand this distinction. You may

have been praying, God get me out. And perhaps

God is saying, I am going to get you through.

You have been measuring divine intervention by

whether the furnace disappears while heaven may

be measuring the miracle by whether the furnace

can destroy you. You have been waiting for God

to remove the water while God has been giving

you supernatural strength to cross it. You have

been asking why the wilderness has not ended

while God has been giving you manna every morning.

You've been asking why the valley is still dark

while the shepherd has never stopped walking

with you and this brings us to Psalm 23 David

does not say though I see the valley of the shadow

of death God will give me another road He says

even though I walk through the valley of the

shadow of death I will fear no evil and then

he gives the reason for you are with me not because

the valley disappeared Not because David suddenly

understood everything. Not because there were

no enemies. Not because there was no shadow.

But because presence changed the meaning of the

valley. A valley without God is terrifying. A

valley with the shepherd becomes a passage. Fire

without God consumes. Fire with God becomes testimony.

Deep waters without God can overwhelm you. But

waters with God become something you pass through.

The wilderness without God feels like abandonment,

but the wilderness with God can become the place

where you discover that man does not live by

bread alone, but by every word that proceeds

from the mouth of God. And perhaps this is why

there are seasons where God does not immediately

change your surroundings. Because there is something

you can learn about God while being carried that

you could never learn if every difficult road

disappeared before your feet touched it. There

is a revelation of God that belongs to the valley.

There is a revelation of God that belongs to

the wilderness. There is a revelation of God

that belongs to the fire. There is a revelation

of God that belongs to deep waters, and there

is a revelation of God that only becomes visible

when your own strength is no longer enough. Because

as long as you can explain your survival by your

intelligence, your resources, your connections,

your experience, your strength or your ability,

you may never recognize the hands underneath

you. But eventually, life can bring you somewhere

where you know I could not have carried myself

through this. And that is where another mystery

of divine intervention begins. Because sometimes

God does not simply walk beside you, sometimes

God carries you. Part two, the footprints you

misunderstood. And that brings me to a story

that came back to my heart recently. It is a

story many of us may have heard in one form or

another. But this time, I did not hear it merely

as a beautiful story. I heard a revelation inside

it. Imagine with me for a moment. A man is walking

with God. At the beginning of the journey, the

road is beautiful. The sun is shining. The path

is visible. The ground beneath his feet is firm.

And whenever the man looks behind him, he sees

something that gives him tremendous comfort.

Two sets of footprints. One belongs to Him. The

other belongs to God. And those footprints become

evidence to Him that the promise is true. God

is with me. God is walking beside me. God has

not abandoned me. But as the journey continues,

the landscape begins to change. The beautiful

road slowly disappears, and before Him rises

a wilderness. The wilderness is dry. The path

becomes uncertain. The distances become longer.

There are days when the man does not know how

much farther he must travel, but he continues

walking because he remembers the promise. God

is with me. Then the wilderness leads him toward

a valley. The mountains rise around him. The

light begins to disappear. The shadows become

longer. The valley becomes darker. And suddenly

the words of David are no longer something he

merely reads in Psalm 23. He understands them.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow

of death, now he knows what a valley feels like.

There are places where you can no longer see

very far ahead. Places where yesterday's confidence

is not enough for today's road. Places where

you know God made a promise. But everything surrounding

you seems to contradict what God said. Still,

the man keeps walking, then the valley leads

him into water. At first, the water reaches his

ankles, then his knees, then his waist, then

his chest. The current becomes stronger, every

step becomes more difficult, and the words of

Isaiah suddenly become personal. When you pass

through the waters, I will be with you." So he

continues, but after the waters come mud. Heavy

mud. The kind of ground that does not simply

make the journey difficult, but seems determined

to hold your feet where they are. Every step

requires strength. Every movement becomes a battle.

And then, beyond the mud, he sees something he

never expected. Fire. Now the journey is no longer

merely uncomfortable. It is frightening. The

heat becomes unbearable. The smoke obscures his

vision. Everything inside him wants to turn around.

But there is nowhere to go except forward. So

he walks through the fire, through the wilderness,

through the valley, through the waters, through

the mud, through the darkness, and eventually

exhausted, wounded. Confused and barely understanding

how he has survived, the man stops. He looks

backward. And that is when he notices something,

something that troubles him deeply. At the beginning

of his journey, there were two sets of footprints,

his and God's. But somewhere along the wilderness,

there is only one. Through the valley, one. Through

the water, one. Through the mud, one. Through

the fire, one. And suddenly, his exhaustion becomes

disappointment. Because the evidence seems obvious.

When the journey was easy, God was there. But

when the journey became unbearable, God's footprints

disappeared. And perhaps, this is where the story

becomes more than a story. Because there are

seasons when we do exactly the same thing. We

look backward at our lives and begin interpreting

God through what we can see. God, when everything

was going well, I could feel you. When my prayers

would be an answer quickly, I could recognize

you. When the doors were opening, I knew you

were there. When the promise seemed close, I

could see your hand. But when everything changed,

where were you? Where were you when the night

became long? Where were you when I cried and

nothing changed? Where were you when people walked

away? Where were you when the door closed? Where

were you when I did everything I knew to do and

still found myself in the valley? Where were

you when I prayed and the fire became hotter?

Where were you when I obeyed you and still ended

up in deep waters? Where were you when I could

no longer understand what you were doing? And

the man finally turns toward God and asks the

question that has been growing inside him throughout

the journey. Lord, you told me you would never

leave me. You told me you would never forsake

me. You told me that when I pass through the

waters, you would be with me. You told me that

when I walk through the fire, I would not be

burned. You told me that even in the valley of

the shadow of death, I should fear no evil, because

you would be with me. And at the beginning, I

believed you, because I could see both sets of

footprints. But look, Lord, when the wilderness

became difficult, yours disappeared. When the

valley became dark, yours disappeared. When the

waters became deep, yours disappeared. When the

mud became heavy, Yours disappeared. When the

fire became unbearable, yours disappeared. Why?

Why did you leave me exactly when I needed you

the most? And God answered, My child, look again.

The man looked backward. The footprints had not

changed. There was still only one set. And God

said, You are right. There is only one set of

footprints. But you have misunderstood what you

are looking at. Those footprints are not yours.

They are mine. When the road was easy enough

for you to walk, I walked beside you. When you

had strength, I strengthened you. When you could

see the road, I guided you. But when the wilderness

exhausted you, when the valley became too dark

for you to navigate, when the waters became too

deep for your feet, When the mud became too heavy

for your strength and when the fire became too

hot for you to endure I did not disappear. I

picked you up The reason you cannot see your

footprints is because your feet were no longer

touching the ground You were in my arms You thought

the single footprints were evidence that I had

abandoned you They were evidence that I had carried

you You thought you crossed those waters. I carried

you. You thought you survived that fire. I carried

you. You thought you found your way through that

valley. I knew the way. You thought you somehow

endured the wilderness. I sustained you. Enduring

those nights when you wondered how you would

make it until morning. I carried you. During

those mornings when you woke up without enough

strength for another day, I carried you. When

your faith became weak, but somehow did not disappear,

I carried you. When you could no longer pray

the way you used to pray, but something inside

you still whispered the name of Jesus, I carried

you. When you could not understand my plan, but

somehow could not walk away from me, I carried

you. You were looking for my footsteps beside

yours while you were already resting in my arms.

And church, there is a revelation here that I

do not want us to miss. Sometimes what looks

like the absence of God is actually a form of

divine intervention you have not yet learned

to recognize. We think intervention must always

change the scenery, but sometimes intervention

changes nothing about the scenery. and everything

about whether the scenery is able to destroy

you. The wilderness remains, the valley remains,

the water remains, the fire remains, but you

remain too. And perhaps somebody listening to

me right now has been asking the wrong question.

You have been asking, God, why haven't you removed

this? But perhaps tonight, heaven is asking you

another question. How do you think you are still

here? How did you survive something you were

certain would destroy you? How did you continue

believing after what happened? How did you get

back up after losing the strength to stand? How

did your mind survive that season? How did your

family survive it? How did your faith survive

it? How did your calling survive it? How did

the enemy throw everything he could against you

and yet something inside you refused to die?

Maybe you have been calling it survival. Heaven

calls it grace. Maybe you have been calling it

resilience. Heaven calls it sustaining power.

Maybe you have been saying, I don't know how

I made it. And God is answering, because you

didn't make it by yourself. And this is not merely

poetry, this is scripture. Because Moses looked

back at Israel's wilderness journey and said

in Deuteronomy 1 .31, the Lord your God carried

you, as a father carries his son. All the way

you went until you reached this place. Listen

carefully to those words. Until you reached this

place, there were places Israel walked. There

were battles Israel fought. There were mornings

Israel gathered manna. There were nights Israel

slept beneath the wilderness sky. There were

days when they complained. Days when they doubted.

Days when they became afraid. Days when they

wondered whether Egypt had been better than the

uncertainty ahead of them. But when Moses looked

backward over the entire journey, he gave them

another interpretation of their history. You

thought you crossed the wilderness. God carried

you through it. And maybe one day, when you reach

the place God promised you, you will look backward

at the season you are living right now. and finally

understand something you cannot understand today.

You will see the fire. You will see the water.

You will see the valley. You will see the wilderness.

You will see the nights you cried. You will remember

the prayers that seemed unanswered. You will

remember the moments when you almost gave up.

And then you will see those footprints, only

one set. And you will finally understand. Those

were not the days God abandoned you. Those were

the days God carried you. And perhaps the greatest

evidence of divine intervention in some seasons

of your life is not that the fire disappeared.

It is that after everything you have been through,

you are still here. When God carries you, and

perhaps this is where we need to stop for today,

Not because we have exhausted this revelation.

Actually, we have barely begun. Because once

I started looking deeper into scripture, I discovered

that the language of God carrying his people

appears again and again. Moses looked backward

over 40 years of wilderness and told Israel,

the Lord your God carried you as a father carries

his son. Isaiah speaks of a God who says, I have

upheld you since your birth. I have carried you

since you were born. Even to your old age and

gray hairs I am he. I have made you and I will

carry you. I will sustain you and I will rescue

you. And then Jesus gives us the picture of a

shepherd who discovers that one sheep is missing,

leaves the 99, searches until he finds it. And

when he finds it, he does not simply point toward

the road. and tell the exhausted sheep to find

its own way home. He places it on his shoulders,

and he carries it. There is something much deeper

here that we need to explore, because perhaps

being carried by God is not merely an emergency

response to human weakness. Perhaps it reveals

something about the very nature of our relationship

with Him. Perhaps God carries us not simply because

we have become weak, but because we belong to

Him. And that is where our next conversation

must begin. Because there are still questions

we have not answered. What does it actually mean

for God to carry a person? How does God carry

us when we cannot physically see His arms? Does

He carry us through His Spirit? Through His Word?

Through supernatural strength? Through people

He sends into our lives? Through doors He closes

without explaining why? Through dangers he prevents

us from ever seeing, through grace that keeps

our minds together when circumstances should

have broken us, through prayers being prayed

for us when we do not even have enough strength

to pray for ourselves, and what happens when

God carries you through something but does not

tell you where he is taking you. Because there

is another dimension to being carried. When someone

carries you, you are no longer controlling every

step. You have surrendered the road. You have

surrendered the pace. You have surrendered the

direction. You have surrendered the timing. And

now you must trust the one whose arms are holding

you. Maybe that is why some seasons are so uncomfortable.

We are asking God to explain the road. While

God is asking us to trust his arms, we want to

know where this is going. God says, trust me.

We want to know when it will end. God says, trust

me. We want to know why he allowed it. God says,

trust me. We want to know what waits beyond the

mountain. God says, you do not have to see where

I am taking you in order to know who is carrying

you. And maybe that is the word somebody needs

tonight. You do not know where this road ends.

You do not know how this situation will turn

around. You do not know when the answer will

come. You do not know when the wilderness will

become a promised land. You do not know when

the night will finally become morning. But perhaps

God has not asked you to know. Perhaps he has

asked you to trust. Because a child being carried

by his father does not need to understand the

geography. He only needs to recognize the father.

And if you recognize the one carrying you, you

can rest even while the landscape is changing.

You can rest while passing through the valley.

You can rest while crossing the waters. You can

rest while walking through territory you have

never seen before. Because your security is no

longer in understanding the road. Your security

is in knowing the one holding you. So tonight,

before we close this conversation, I want you

to look backward. Look at the valleys you survived.

Look at the fires that did not consume you. Look

at the waters that did not sweep you away. Look

at the doors that closed and somehow redirected

your life. Look at the nights you thought would

never end. Look at the moments when you were

certain you could not continue. And then ask

yourself one question. If I truly had no strength

left, who carried me? Maybe those footprints

you have been looking at all these years were

never yours. Maybe the evidence you interpreted

as abandonment was actually evidence of intimacy.

Maybe the season where you felt God the least

was the season where his arms were holding you

the closest. And maybe the testimony is not simply,

I made it. Maybe the testimony is, he carried

me. He carried me when I could not understand.

He carried me when I could not see. He carried

me when I could barely pray. He carried me when

the fire became hot. He carried me when the waters

became deep. He carried me through the valley.

He carried me through the wilderness. He carried

me through the night. And if I am standing here

today, it is not because I was strong enough

to survive everything that came against me. It

is because the God who promised never to leave

me was faithful enough to carry me. And we are

not finished. In conversation four of the mystery

of divine intervention, we are going to continue

this revelation and go deeper into what scripture

means when God says, I will carry you. We are

going to explore the father who carries his children.

The shepherd who places the lost sheep upon his

shoulders. The God who sustains us from birth

to old age. And the mysterious ways divine intervention

can be operating in our lives even when we cannot

recognize it. Because sometimes God changes the

battle. Sometimes God changes what is coming

against you. Sometimes God opens the sea. Sometimes

God closes the mouth of the lion. Sometimes God

steps into the furnace. And sometimes, God does

something far more intimate. He picks you up.

So until our next conversation, if the road becomes

difficult, if the valley becomes dark, if the

waters become deep, and if you look backward

and suddenly see only one set of footprints,

do not immediately assume God disappeared. Look

again. Those footprints may not be yours. You

may have reached the part of your story where

God started carrying you. This is Pomoja Ministry.

One conversation, one story, one revelation at

a time. And I will meet you again in our next

conversation as we continue exploring the mystery

of divine intervention.