The Remnants: Faithfulness in the Wilderness

I’ve been sitting lately with the ancient biblical idea of the remnant — that small group of people who, even in the midst of chaos, exile, or collapse, still hold on to God. Not always neatly. Not always publicly. But deeply. Quietly. Truly.

Scripture is full of stories about remnants. After Israel faced judgment and exile, when their entire way of life was torn apart, there were still those who didn’t let go of their covenant with God (Isaiah 10:20-22). They were scattered, displaced, sometimes barely hanging on — but they remained His.

Paul, centuries later, would look at the turmoil of his time and say, “At the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace” (Romans 11:5). Even when the religious systems cracked, when faithfulness wasn’t easy or celebrated, there was always a thread of people God preserved.

Faithfulness Isn’t Always What We Think It Is

Today, faithfulness often gets mistaken for attendance. As if still sitting in pews, singing songs, and showing up every Sunday is the sole measure of a heart tethered to God.

But the biblical story of the remnant reminds us otherwise.

Many faithful ones were in exile. There were no temples to attend, no sacrifices to offer, no structured “services” to keep them anchored.

Still, they loved God.

Still, they prayed, they remembered, they waited.

Still, they trusted that God’s promises had not failed, even though everything around them had.

Faithfulness today, for many of us, doesn’t look like neat belonging. It looks like wilderness living. Like holding a fragile flame of hope in a world that feels more wild than orderly. It looks like remembering who God is — even if your relationship with “church” or “Christian culture” has crumbled.

You can be part of the remnant without being part of the system.

The Church in the Wild

Maybe you feel like you’re wandering. Maybe you left organized religion because it left you first — by its compromise, by its silence, by its betrayal.

Maybe you’re exhausted by pretending things are fine.

But take heart: you are not lost to God.

Wilderness has always been the meeting place of the remnant.

God preserved His people not by keeping them safe in buildings, but by planting His Word in their hearts. By meeting them under open skies, in foreign lands, in unfamiliar places. The exile didn’t erase their identity — it refined it.

We are seeing a “church in the wild” rise again.

A scattered people.

An untamed remnant.

Not abandoning God, but abandoning what no longer carries His presence.

If You Are Holding On

If you are still seeking, still praying, still aching for what is real, even if you are doing it outside of traditional walls — you are not a failure. You are not forgotten.

You are part of something ancient and true.

You are the remnant.

Maybe your worship today looks like a whispered prayer while driving.

Maybe it’s honest conversations at a kitchen table.

Maybe it’s simply staying open to wonder, refusing to let cynicism have the last word.

This is holy.

This is real faithfulness.

An Invitation

If you resonate with this, I invite you to honor your journey. Don’t rush to rebuild what was torn down.

The wilderness is not a punishment — it’s preparation.

Be the remnant: tender, brave, rooted in grace, open to wherever God shows up next.

We don’t need to fear the exile.

God does some of His best work there.