I remember it like it was yesterday… Certain memories seem to play in technicolor. These are the ones you can see, smell, feel for years. Where the terror hangs heavy and every hair on your body stands at attention. Physical trauma has a way of marking our memories in this way, and surprisingly enough, emotional trauma sure can hold its own, too. This memory is one of the vivid ones. I was finally cancer free, again, and sitting on the back porch. Years of rapid and consecutive trauma had left me weak, devastated, and weary. I remember the way the sunlight lit up the leaves, the smell of the crisp Colorado air, and exactly where my husband was sitting when the words fell like lead from my lips… “I don’t know what I believe anymore. I don’t know if I believe God is real.” They landed with a thud. There it was. The Truth. “Saying those words out loud… terrified me even more than the prospect of dying.” Hebrews 6:19 tells us, “We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.” Take away the hope, take away the anchor, and we’re adrift at sea. Or, to put it another way, lost in the wilderness without a canteen. The Israelites could tell us a thing or two about the wilderness. Recently freed from Egyptian slavery, the exiles saw nothing but the long, hard road up ahead. Yet, despite all their questions and years in the wilderness, there was one truth that changed the nature of the waiting: They were never alone. In chapter four of Relentless, we consider a God who refused to leave, even when we wander. To the Israelite exiles, He came as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, leading his people through the wilderness, every step of the way. He provided for their needs, he endured their grumbling, and he answered all of their woes & whys with his unshakeable presence. “He was with them every step of the way, even in their questions.” Dear friend, it’s okay to doubt. It’s okay to ask questions. It’s okay to cry. But please hear me when I say: We mustn’t stay there. “There’s a very powerful correlation between our lack of understanding and belief in God’s presence and affection, and the depth and capacity of our own presence and affection with others.” We must wrestle, we must question. Sometimes our faith needs to be rebuilt. And that rebuilding will often come with a fight for Truth. But setting up camp in a place of doubt is dangerous. Not only do you risk becoming petrified there, a sort of living death, you may also become either unavailable or abrasive in our relationships.  “We are only able to love and be present with people to the extent that we are able to receive and believe God’s love and presence with us.” So, what do we do when we find ourselves in that wilderness place? Join me in this episode for the "5 Ropes" that can lead you from “lost” to “home”. The good news is, you only need one.  “I want you to look for a light that is only visible in the dark. That is evidence of God’s presence with you in the middle of the wilderness, not waiting for you on the other side of it.”