You reach and it feels like you’re grabbing air.

You know that God is real. You aren’t going anywhere, because even when you don’t feel it, you can’t help but thank him for who he is, and what he’s done.

But it’s dry.

So stinking dry.

And you want more.

That’s where I found myself recently. Like “last night” recently. I tell you this because you might be there too, and maybe you’ve started to believe it’s because you’ve messed up somehow. Or that you’re not as spiritual or faith-filled as others.

Nope, that’s not it all.

It’s the wilderness, and for whatever reason, we can end up there for a season. It’s so opposite of the times that God is as close as a whisper, or when joy bubbles up, or you throw your hands in the air (maybe in your thoughts, because there’s people all around) as you rejoice in who God is.

So, last night, when I was lying in bed, I talked to God about this. 

Lord, I don’t feel you. I wish I could. It’s been awhile, and I miss you. But I know you’re there. I know you are working on my behalf. I know you hear me. I trust that this wilderness season has a purpose, and I trust you. 

Tears ran down my cheeks.

Tears of sadness for what I’m not feeling right now. Tears of gratitude for the knowledge that I will feel it again — and regardless of when it takes place, He is with me now.

[bctt tweet=”When you’re not feeling God, it doesn’t mean He’s not there. It doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong. #livingfreetogether” username=”suzanneeller”]

I don’t know why I’m in this wilderness season, but I’m not going to lay down, stop believing, stop sharing truth, or stop being me — Suzie, who loves God with all her heart, soul, and mind.

I’m not sad. I’m just in a season of trust.

If you are in a similar place, I’m reaching with a huge hug.

You’ve not done anything wrong.

He’s not far away, I promise.

Every word ever spoken over you by him is yes and amen.

The wilderness won’t last forever and as we follow him, he’ll teach us and love us through it.

They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. Jeremiah 17:8 (NIV)

This is my promise. It’s yours as well. We can’t see it right now, but as we dip those roots deep into faith and truth, fruit is rising up inside.

You aren’t walking through that wilderness alone. He’s got you. We’ve got each other. And we’ll come out on the other side stronger.


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