“…But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.”

Luke 15:20 ESV

The wilderness is disquieting.

When walking in that season of pain, I penned lyric after lyric describing how it felt trudging through high waters, the sting of fire burning around me, and the overwhelming crush of fear. The Lord later used those songs as a sort of journal—showing me He was there even when I couldn’t feel it at the time.

But in those moments, I felt the breathless sensation of walls closing in around me. It was wearying knowing the arrows were still flying, and all I could do was expect that they were coming.

It was easy to lose sight of the God who loved me so much. I’d forget His face and instead see the circumstance. It was easy to slip into seeing Him as a harsh father or an unyielding judge.

I changed.

I was crushed.

I lost footing.

But the God of the valley is the same God who split open the Red Sea, who drew stunning mountains and endless flowers with a mere word, who lifted a little girl from her deathbed, and who sent His Son to die for my sins.

There is this picture, I can’t shake from a song I heard while in the valley:

Did he [the son] see you from a long way off, runnin’ to him with a Father’s heart.

Did you wrap him up inside Your arms and let him know that he’s home?

(TobyMac, “21 Years”)

When I was at my lowest and couldn’t feel God or how He felt about me, He was the same Father depicted in the Prodigal parable whose hat flew in the wind, whose feet drew up dust as He ran, and who gathered His child into His arms.

I changed in my valley—I grew, I ached, and I found my rooting in the Lord.

But He never changed.

My Father never once changed.

And He loved me through it all.