Russ Florey

The night everything changed, it was late. The house was dark, and I was on my knees—not because I was righteous, but because I had nowhere else to go. My wife was leaving me.

My drinking had destroyed my marriage. Everything I had built was crumbling, and I knew that it was my own doing. I began reading the Bible, looking for an answer, and turned to Daniel chapter four, where King Nebuchadnezzar is stripped of his throne and driven into the wilderness—wandering in madness for seven years until he finally lifted his eyes to heaven and acknowledged that the Most High rules over the kingdoms of men.

And then, God gave me a vision. I saw a water hose running freely. Two hands appeared and bent the hose tightly, cutting off the flow. A number appeared in my mind, as clearly as if someone had spoken it: seven. Like Nebuchadnezzar, I was about to enter a wilderness time.

I grew up in East Texas in a Christian home. My parents took us to church every Sunday. When I was five, I walked down the aisle and accepted Jesus. But somewhere in my teenage years, we stopped going to church—and I didn't care.

I started drinking at fifteen. By college, I was drunk or stoned most of the time. I married a woman I shouldn't have. On our honeymoon, I got belligerently drunk, became violent, and cheated on my wife. Two weeks later, I sent my own father to the hospital. My wife gave me an ultimatum: treatment or she leaves.

I entered AA, stayed three months, then quit—but I stopped drinking for six and a half years through sheer willpower. No recovery. No God. Just white-knuckling it.

Then, I convinced myself I could handle one glass of wine. Within weeks, the cravings roared back. I was drinking again. The divorce crushed me. That was the night of the vision. My wilderness had begun.

It says in Psalms 118:18, "The Lord has chastened me severely, but He has not given me over to death." I went back to AA—this time to survive. I worked the steps. I got a sponsor. I was $250,000 in debt, including law school loans I had co-signed for my ex-wife. I rented rooms to other alcoholics just to keep the house.

But something else was happening. I began fellowshipping with Christians in AA. For two years, I attended a weekly home Bible study. After years of chaos, I had found men who were simply walking with God and willing to walk with me.

When I was thirty-three, I was baptized again—not because I doubted my childhood faith, but because I wanted to mark my life as belonging to Christ as a man who had seen his own sin and turned back. There were more failures. A second marriage that ended in divorce. More loss. By the end, everything I owned fit in a backpack.

But by God's grace, I stayed sober. And I kept seeking Him. Jeremiah 29:11 says, "For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord. "They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." I found a church. I joined a small group. I went to every event they had. I didn't date anyone. I focused on getting right with God for a year and a half.

Then, for reasons I can't explain, I logged into an online dating site one more time. Someone asked if I wanted to chat. Her name was Fe. I told her the truth—two failed marriages, addiction, but also my faith. She didn't dwell on who I had been. She was interested in the person I was today. I flew to the Philippines to meet her. As I walked through the airport, I saw her holding a sign: Welcome Home, "Russ" Florey.

When I left ten days later, we both knew: if this was from God, He would bring it to pass. After we married, I counted the days from the night of the vision to the day I first talked to Fe. It was seven years and one month. The vision made sense now. Those seven years were not simply wilderness—they were correction. Training.

The Lord corrects those He loves. I had tried to live in my own strength for years, making decisions without prayer, without counsel, without submission to anyone. It destroyed everything. Those seven years taught me what I could never learn any other way: my own arm cannot save me. Only the arm of the Lord truly saves.

Today, Fe and I are debt-free. Everything I had in the wilderness is gone. But what I have now is beyond anything I could have earned: a godly wife, sobriety, and a relationship with the Lord I didn't have when I walked that aisle at five years old.

If you are in your own wilderness—if the water has been cut off and you don't understand why—hold on. God is not finished with you. The wilderness is not wasted.

It's where God does His deepest work.