Not All Who Wander
From the outside, in our world of five-year plans and goal-setting and ladder-climbing, wandering looks aimless, restless, wasteful, even lazy. And it certainly can be. But wandering can also be purposeful—a form of intentional surrender aimed at letting the ego take a back seat and allowing God to guide us.
Sometimes God speaks by slamming doors in our faces or setting our hearts ablaze with an undeniable desire, but more often I find he speaks in whispers and nudges that are all too easy to miss. When we are so focused on our goals and our plans and our destinations, we make it more difficult to hear those whispers and feel those nudges.
In contrast, wandering means openness, unhurriedness, curiosity, and a certain degree of quietness that leaves us more attuned to the small invitations that we otherwise sprint past.
It’s so easy today to feel like we have to decide on a career path before we graduate from high school, or certainly by the time we graduate from college. And then culture tells us that if we just work doggedly toward success in that chosen field, we’ll get there. And if we are struggling, the story goes, it is probably because we’re not working hard enough, not putting in enough hours, not hobnobbing with the right people, not staying focused enough on our goal. And sometimes that is true. Hard work is undoubtedly required for a life of purpose and success. But sometimes all of that striving and focus blinds us to other paths that might be beckoning.
Wandering is a common topic in the Bible. Many times, the word has negative connotations, indicating people who are straying from the path, ignoring God, and generally living life without a sense of direction, or without a good one. But the other meaning for “wander” is to allow the body or mind to rove, to explore without agenda, to dwell in a state of uncertainty, to seek without having a fixed idea of what the answer or destination will look like. “Not all those who wander are lost,” Tolkien reminds us.
John the Baptist wandered in the wilderness. So did Jesus, by this definition. “I wonder as I wander,” the hymn-turned-carol chants, inviting us to do the same.
Wandering is precisely the posture we need if we know where we want to end up but do not know the path that will lead us there. It is a posture of trust, of openness and optimism.
When we wander, we are not aimless but rather steadfastly set on hearing that whisper of God urging us to the left or the right, showing us that next right step even as all the steps after it remain opaque.
When we direct our own steps with too much certainty, we miss out on so much. So much beauty. So much peace. And sometimes, we end up walking right past the most valuable gift of all: the awareness that we are held safe in the arms of the One who never stumbles.
