In The Wild.

I’ve always been about the idea that God prepares us a table in the wilderness. It serves as a reminder that in the dry and desolate times, God is preparing an abundance of rain. There have been a few prominent seasons of darkness and isolation that turned to beauty in my own life. Truthfully, I am currently stepping out of a three-year dry season. A few weeks back, I was worshipping with some friends at a lake house in California, and I felt the Holy Spirit for the first time in longer than I’d like to admit. It was so relieving. I was overwhelmed with this joy, something I had literally just been thinking about. We were asked to talk about where in our lives we doubted God’s goodness, and the first thing that came to my mind was how for so much of my life I've turned to temporary satisfaction for “joy,” and how it always left me empty. Whether it was spending money, receiving affirmation from boys, or never stopping to rest, I chased after these things in search of something to make me content. At the same time, though, I desired what I wasn’t looking for - true, eternal joy that only rests in Jesus. Within minutes of having this thought, God showed up (or really, I was able to tangibly notice His presence). I smiled and wept, because this gave me an unexplainable joy. What. A. Moment. A little over a month ago I moved to the Pacific Northwest to live in a giant house with twenty other people and intern at an organization that helps lift women and girls out of the sex trafficking industry. I have most definitely been in the wild - moving away from my comfortable Midwestern life in an attempt to practice what I preach: justice. I’ve been faced with finding life in newness and debunking my inherent need for immediate gratification and ease. But that’s the thing about God, He doesn't want us living an “easy” life, but rather one that gives honor to His heart and to our roles as sons and daughters. Easy is for the apathetic, and God’s heart is so far from apathetic. The beauty of moving across the country is that no one or thing can prepare you for it. Before I left home, I was on a roller coaster of emotion - half of me was ready to leave with no goodbye and half of me wanted to stay planted in my roots forever and ever. God knew, though, that my roots need to be watered and tended to, and that doesn’t allow me to leave them alone or stay stagnant. It became so obvious after being in Washington for a week that I needed the discomfort. How else would I grow as a human, as a friend, as a daughter? My previous comfort had become my idol. My routine became my promise of safety. My home became my everything. Leaving all of it behind showed me that all I had left, truthfully, was God. He prepared a table for me in the wilderness. It’s funny how God works that way, giving you a space of emptiness to show you that all you need to be full is Him. You don’t need money. You don’t need a person. You don’t need a job or a coffee shop or a wardrobe to give you worth or purpose. You need the radical love of a Father unlike any you’d known. When you realize that, it makes the small moments more beautiful. I honestly don’t believe I would be saying this if I hadn’t been shown the wilderness, and shown a table in it, too. A table where I could feast with Jesus.  words and photo by Madi HouchinSaveSave