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For those who wander. Alone. Wandering.
It’s unnerving when life takes a turn and the ground you’ve built your life upon feels uncertain, when equations you’ve relied on no longer balance, when you realize the path where your feet have settled is no longer a path at all.
Like the time my friend and I went on a simple four-wheeler ride and, ten hours later, found ourselves walking through the woods—no trail, no person, and no four-wheeler in sight. We had lost our way.
And yes, we even lost the four-wheeler. How does that happen? That’s a story for another day.
“Help! Help!” our shaky, tearful preteen voices yelled. We clung together like magnets—walking, looking, and shouting for hours. Scene after scene played through my mind of living the rest of our lives in the woods, lost. I was terrified, but not the horror-movie kind of terrified. No, it was more of a sudden realization that life was not as safe as I once thought. For the first twelve years of my life, I didn’t understand that life is hard, that scary things happen, or that not all trails lead home.
I think of this story when I feel the wandering rumbling within.
I think of this story when I’ve gone so far down a road that returning feels impossible. What once felt like exploration has quietly shifted into being lost in a moving maze. And the result? Fearful, breathless searching.
It can be terrifying when looking around no longer brings comfort but instead reveals isolation. So alone—not only unfamiliar with the surrounding scenery, but unfamiliar with yourself in this unmarked space.
Just as the sun was setting, we finally heard a voice—a distant call: “Heather! Shelley! Come toward my voice!” The voice was so faint we couldn’t tell which way to turn, so we stood still, listening and hoping. Minutes that felt like hours passed, and then we saw him.
If you’ve ever been lost, you know the sudden burst of hope, joy, and relief at the first sight of rescue. They had called in a man who knew those woods “like the back of my hand.” I remember the sight of him—this burly, serious man. He was clearly the keeper of the woods, and he was on a rescue mission. We climbed onto his four-wheeler and clung tight, breathing deeply.
We had been found.
Perhaps you have a wandering story of your own. If so, can I tell you something you may need to reread when you’re ready?
Your God knows the way.
He knows how far you’ve traveled, and He knows the reason.
He knows if you’re wandering for survival—whether you’re running from chaos or searching for safety. The Prince of Peace knows.
He knows if your wandering is rebellion—a rejection of people, ideas, and beliefs in search of your own. The Truth incarnate knows.
He knows if you’re disillusioned—perplexed that those who taught you the songs and Scriptures no longer live according to them. The Unwavering One, the Rock of Ages, knows.
He knows if boredom has caused you to wander—if life hasn’t turned out the way you envisioned and your restless heart has grown too wild to contain. The Giver of abundant life knows.
Questions, doubts, anger, hurts—whatever your reason, your Father in heaven knows.
The One who knows the way, the “Keeper of the Woods,” is on a rescue mission.
It isn’t to bring you shame, but to bring you home.
It may not be to restore life to what it once was, but it is certainly to bring you to Himself.
“Son! Daughter! Come toward My voice,” He calls. And in His mercy and grace, He will clarify, prove, and confirm who He is, who you are, and why walking with Him is infinitely better than walking away from Him.
He calls your name. His eye is on you. He is your rescue.
Copyright © 2023 by Heather Harrison @ heatherharrisoncounseling.com No part of this article may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from Lifeword.org.