When your greatest need is to hear the Father’s wisdom, and he isn’t saying anything, it can be very discouraging. Years ago, I repeatedly cried out to God for an answer to prayer during one of the lowest points in my life. Every day, I’d pour out my heart (AKA— complaining) and beg God to show me what to do. I’d worship him, although much of the time, I was focused on myself.

Those days were spent spewing complaints, calling out for Jesus to rescue me, and quoting Scripture like it was some magic potion instead of something sacred and personal. They were not some of my finer days. Every unhealed soul wound was jumping up and down, waving its arms, trying to get me to face the fear and doubt God wanted to free me from. I was desperate for an answer to prayer, but my desperation was pushing me to strive for answers. If God wasn’t going to help, I’d try to make something happen myself. (He was reaching out to me, but I was stuck in my head.) Desperation led to frustration, and I began suffering from panic attacks for the first time in my life. They were intense, frequent, and crippling. I was in one of the most bewildering seasons of my life.

God finally said something I’ll never forget. “When all you hear is silence, lean into it. You’ll find Me there.” He explained that in all my crying and questioning, he’d been trying to give me exactly what I needed—peace and quiet. The Father wanted me to trust him in this wilderness and to settle into his presence while he loved me into wholeness. He wanted to help

me get to the root of the fears rising in my soul instead of pushing them down and fighting to control everything.

Silence wasn’t the result of being ignored by him. It was a blessing I’d resisted.

As we snuggle into the Father’s arms, he begins healing areas where the enemy has manipulated our relationship with God and caused us to doubt. Stillness and silence become the home where miracles happen in our souls. In the safety of his presence, we finally see what has been hidden beneath the chaos of busy minds.

Yielding to the quiet power of love is one of our deepest yearnings, but it is also something we struggle with. We long for peace, yet resist it because accepting it means releasing our worries and trusting God. There’s that word again—trust! I had a strong aversion to that word for many years. “Trust God,” people said. But no one could tell me how. What do I do with the fear that he won’t come through? Do I pretend it’s not there? Should I end conversations with, “Well, I’m trusting God,” as if it’s actually true?

Christian jargon never sets a heart free. It’s time we got honest with ourselves and confessed doubt, fear, and a need to control. God already knows our hearts. He isn’t ashamed or mad at us, but he does want to show us. And as we take this journey, he does.

Trusting God begins with experiencing his love. You’ll always struggle to trust him if you don’t believe he loves you and wants what’s best for you. You cannot force yourself into faith or make an encounter with him happen. However, you can position yourself before God and wait for him to reveal his love. Once love comes alive in your heart, believing him is effortless.

So, what if you do believe God loves you, but the wilderness is challenging your faith?

The Lord has radically altered my perception of these dry, lonely times, and I pray this revelation will do the same for you. Let’s start by reading Colossians 2:7b-8a in The Passion Translation.

“For you are established in the faith you have absorbed and enriched by your devotion to him! Beware that no one distracts you or intimidates you in their attempt to lead you away from Christ’s fullness by pretending to be full of wisdom when they’re filled with endless arguments of human logic.”

Colossians 2:7b-8a

If we’re complete in him, why do we feel incomplete, unhappy, and unfulfilled? Perhaps our minds are filled with endless arguments of human logic.

Inner freedom comes when nothing and no one has our hearts more than he does. And God loves to help us with this. Very often, he does this by drawing us into the wilderness. I used to hate this subject! Until the Lord taught me to see it the way he does.

“Behold, I am to romance her and draw her into the wilderness; I will speak tenderly to her.”

Hosea 2:14 TPT

When we pray, “Lord, I want to know you more. Make yourself real to me.” Jesus takes us seriously and responds, “Great! Come on! I know exactly where we need to go.” Then, he

takes us to a secluded place to answer our prayer. Sometimes, the isolation is as short as a morning prayer, and other times, he leads us to the desert and tucks us away for months or years. In these lengthy seasons, we feel alone, bewildered, and uncomfortable. What we view as punishment or a result of sinfulness, God sees as an opportunity for blessing and connection.

Recently, the Lord invited me to a season of separation that I knew would be difficult. As I shared my apprehension, Jesus stood before me—his face beaming with pure joy, and I felt his childlike anticipation of being with me. His expression pierced my soul. He seemed to be asking me why I wasn’t excited, too. How could I feel anything other than loved and cherished in light of this opportunity? The intensity of his love and excitement made my heart feel like it would break. I hadn’t realized how special the wilderness season was in his eyes.

The Lord enjoys being with us and is jealous for time alone with us. Let that truth sink deep into your heart. It will forever change how you see these times.

You may go in one way, but it is God’s will that you come out another—leaning on your Beloved and infused with his strength.

Desert seasons are not chastisement or discipline but invitations to deeper intimacy.

Many Christians have an aversion to silent prayer because it mimics the wilderness. It can feel uncomfortable, especially if we’re used to being in control of how prayer time goes. Silence, like seasons of seclusion and opposition, forces us to recognize how much we believe in a God we cannot see. Like shaken jars of muddy water, our souls need time to settle until the water is clear. We can do this by making stillness a habit.

I’m reminded of Exodus 24 when God called Moses to be with Him on Mount Sinai. We read in verse 12 (TPT),

“YAHWEH said to Moses, “Come up the mountain to me. Wait there, and I will give you the stone tablets upon which I have written the law and commandments so that you may instruct the people.”

Exodus 24:12 TPT

God told Moses to ascend and wait before receiving the stone tablets. I’ve often wondered what went through his mind. Maybe Moses began to doubt whether he had heard correctly. Perhaps he was learning a lesson in patience. We aren’t told the details, but we do know that he tarried there for six days, and it wasn’t until the seventh day that God spoke again.

The number six is often associated with man and man’s fleshly nature. Waiting for six days sounds like an opportunity for impatience, doubt, fear, and other carnal obstacles to faith to surface. However, after dealing with the fleshly nature, on the seventh day, God called Moses into the glory cloud and a higher level of the mountain. Seven can represent perfection, completeness, and rest. Many of us want to step into God’s promises but aren’t willing to tarry alone in his presence to be prepared for them.

When God invites us to wait in his presence, our fleshly nature rises to the surface. If we persist, our driest and seemingly most boring seasons of prayer will transition into a deeper level of intimacy with him. Sometimes, we don’t hear or experience God because we are too focused on ourselves. Contemplative prayer helps shift our focus.

If you desire a deeper relationship with God, take heart— this is what you were created for.

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