"You Will Not Find God at the Mall"

“Moses does not encounter the living God at the mall. He finds Him (or is found by Him) somewhere out in the deserts of Sinai, a long way from the comforts of Egypt...As did John the Baptist, and his cousin, Jesus, Who is led by the Spirit into the wilderness.” — John Eldredge

You will not meet the living God in the place of your comforts.
You will not encounter Him while clutching your idols.
You will not hear His voice while numbing your soul with distractions.
God does not manifest His glory in the temple of your convenience.

Moses wasn’t called in Pharaoh’s palace. He was stripped of title, reputation, and comfort—exiled, forgotten, wandering the wilderness like a man undone. And there—only there—when he was empty enough to listen, broken enough to obey, and desperate enough to notice a bush burning in silence… there the Lord came.

We treat God like He is supposed to show up in our man-made temples of entertainment, polished churches, and curated spirituality. But the Holy One has never been found among idols. He calls from the desert—from the wild places that break you, humble you, and remake you. He summons you into fire and obscurity.

A Long Way from Egypt

Egypt is the land of ease, indulgence, and influence. It’s where the flesh is fed and the soul withers. God does not speak to the man still in love with Egypt. He calls him out. And not halfway out, but completely severed.

Moses had to be unmade. Forty years of wilderness silence were not a delay—they were a divine execution of pride. Egypt had to be burned out of his bones. He had to forget Pharaoh’s voice to recognize God's whisper.

So must you.
If you want the fire of God, prepare for the wilderness.
If you want the voice of God, turn off the noise.
If you want the presence of God, walk far from Egypt—until your comforts cry out for you to return—and still, you press on.

The Pattern of the Wilderness

John the Baptist wasn’t raised in the temple. He didn’t inherit the priesthood of his father. He was driven by the Spirit into the wilderness to become a voice. Not a preacher. Not a performer. A voice crying in the desert.

His life was a rebuke to religion, to compromise, to man’s applause. His diet and clothing were signs of radical detachment from the world. He lived to prepare the way of the Lord—and the price was isolation.

And what of Christ? The Spirit led Him into the wilderness—not the synagogue, not the banquet table—but the barren place of confrontation. There, the Son of God warred with Satan, fasted for forty days, and crushed every temptation that ruins lesser men. Power was forged in that fire. Identity was anchored in that silence.

Why would you expect to carry Christ without walking where He walked?

You Want God? Then Die to the Mall.

You want revival but refuse repentance.
You want anointing but reject obscurity.
You want power, but won’t give up pleasure.
You want fire, but won't walk through the wilderness.

You cannot have both Egypt and Sinai.
You cannot cling to the world and walk into glory.
You will not find the Holy One in the land of ease.
He dwells in the wilderness—where He breaks you to bless you.

The Call

This quote is not cute. It is a warning.
God is not coming to you in the mall, the social feed, or the lukewarm pulpit.
He’s calling you into the wilderness.

Leave Egypt.
Abandon the idol of comfort.
Let your soul be stripped.
Let your pride be crucified.
Go where few will go—to the lonely place, the silent place, the holy place.

And there, you will see the fire.

Reflection Questions:

• What is your Egypt? What comfort or convenience are you unwilling to part with?
  
  

• Has the wilderness already begun—and are you resisting it?
  
  

• Are you more interested in finding God or staying comfortable?
  
  

Prayer of Surrender:

God of Sinai, burn my idols to the ground. Rip me from Egypt’s grip.
Lead me into the wilderness where You break men to raise them.
I don't want comfort. I want fire. I don’t want ease. I want glory.
Make me a voice—not an echo. Strip me of the world, that I may carry You alone.
Amen.