The Solace of Fierce Landscapes

The Solace of Fierce Landscapes

Well, hello, friends!

Today we’re coming to you from the desert of Arizona—a beautiful place. And if I’m honest, I’ve said it before, but this landscape has grown on me over time. I didn’t always love the desert. At first, it felt harsh. Sparse. Unforgiving. Brown.

But the longer we’ve spent time here, the more I’ve noticed how much the desert has to teach us about God—and about ourselves.

When the Desert Becomes a Teacher

Some dear friends of ours, Jeff and Syd Hulsclaw, recently wrote a beautiful book called Landscapes of the Soul. In it, they explore our interior landscapes—our emotional and spiritual lives—through the lens of attachment theory: how we learned to love, to trust, to survive, and how those early landscapes shape how we relate to God and to others.

Scripture also speaks often about landscapes, especially the desert.

In Deuteronomy 8, Moses reminds the people of God about their years in the wilderness. He says God humbled them by letting them hunger so they would learn something essential:

“You do not live by bread alone,
but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”

That passage reframes the wilderness—not as punishment, but as formation.

God allows lack, not to abandon us, but to teach us.

Moses is standing on the edge of the Promised Land when he says, “Remember the long way God led you through the wilderness.” Not to shame them. Not to scare them. But to remind them: the desert was not a mistake. It wasn’t a detour.

It was a teacher.

God let them hunger and then met them with manna—just enough for the day. No more. No less. So they could learn to trust, not through abundance, but through scarcity. Not by stockpiling or controlling, but by relying on God.

And maybe that’s true for us, too.

The places that feel most stripped down are often the places where God is teaching us that God is enough.

The Solace of Fierce Landscapes

Another book we’ve loved for years explores this idea from a different angle but arrives at the same truth. It’s called The Solace of Fierce Landscapes by Belden Lane.

Lane writes about deserts and mountains—what he calls fierce landscapes. These are places that don’t coddle you. Places that don’t rush to comfort you. Places that are largely indifferent to your ego.

And yet, paradoxically, they are often tender with your soul.

Lane suggests that these landscapes strip us down. They remove the noise, the pretending, the illusion that we are in control. And in doing so, they create space—space for truth, for honesty, for God. Not God as an idea, but God as a presence.

Standing here in the desert, it’s easy to see how much this mirrors our inner lives.

Our Interior Landscapes

There are seasons when our souls feel lush and green. And seasons when they feel dry, bare, or exposed.

But maybe it’s more nuanced than simply “seasons.” Maybe it’s better understood as parts within us—interior landscapes that often coexist.

You can be in a lush, flowering moment with people you love and suddenly feel a wave of interior sadness or pain. And when that happens, we’re tempted to think something has gone wrong.

But what if the desert within us isn’t a failure?

What if it’s a teacher?

What if God does some of God’s deepest work not in abundance, but in enough?

Both of these books remind us of something essential:

Our spiritual lives are shaped by landscapes—
external landscapes and internal ones.

And God meets us in all of them. Not just the beautiful or easy places, but also the fierce ones. The quiet ones. The ones that ask us to let go.

Grace for the Landscape You’re In

So wherever you find yourself today—whether your soul feels like a lush garden or more like a fierce desert—remember this:

You are not alone.

God is already there.

And even the fiercest landscapes can become places of deep solace.

Grace and peace, friends.
We’re so glad you’re on this journey with us.