(via shannonicole)

I believe there are seasons when God calls us into the desert just so that He can woo us back out.

Sometimes that looks like Elijah crying out for death in a cave, and waking up to an Angel preparing him food.

And sometimes that looks like giving up everything to move to Arizona, and being blessed with a sweet Nashville farmhouse and community of women eager to share their hearts.

When you stumble into your desert place, sometimes by choice and other times kicking and screaming, you will feel abandoned at first. You will cry in the night and lose sight of the sunrise. You will want to run back to wherever you came from, but realize you have nothing left in you to move another step. You will know emptiness and sorrow, shame and confusion, grief, and paralyzing fear when you see there is nowhere to hide. Until, that is, the waters spring up from the ground, the breeze comes to tickle your skin, and the mountains appear on the horizon. Manna will fall from the sky to nourish and sustain you, and the Heavens above will cry out in anticipation for the heart-change within you to come.

Because when we’re finally in a paradise we never before knew existed, we remember the desert and the One who led us out. We long to never let go of His hand, and we write His name on our hearts for all time. Then we begin to ask how we may share that paradise with others, and we live for all of the ways we can help the garden to grow.

I’ve literally followed You into my desert place, and here I’ve felt You hold me near and I’ve heard You whisper, “Keep close, darling. I’ll show you things you’ve only dreamed possible.”

Sometimes we have to walk away from everything in order to find the One thing that truly sustains.