. The Sacred Art of Spiritual Wandering

"All we like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him." - Isaiah 53:6 (NASB)

I used to think going astray was the worst thing that could happen to someone spiritually. Now I wonder if it might be the most honest.

The metaphor of lost sheep always bothered me as a kid. Sheep seemed so helpless, so stupid for wandering off. But then I spent two years in what I called my "wilderness period"—questioning everything I'd been taught, trying on different philosophies like ill-fitting clothes, feeling more lost than I'd ever felt in my life. And I realized something: maybe the sheep wasn't stupid. Maybe it was brave.

Maybe leaving the familiar pasture wasn't rebellion—it was exploration. Maybe questioning the shepherd wasn't betrayal—it was growth. Maybe getting lost was the only way to discover what I actually believed versus what I'd been told to believe.

Rebecca Solnit wrote, "Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That's where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go." Sometimes spiritual wandering isn't a departure from faith—it's faith in action, trusting that truth is sturdy enough to withstand our questions.

The Isaiah passage doesn't shame the sheep for straying. It simply acknowledges that wandering is part of the human condition. We explore, we question, we push boundaries. We leave safe pastures for dangerous freedom. And somehow, mysteriously, even our wandering becomes part of a larger story of redemption.

I met God more authentically in my wandering than I ever did in my certainty. In the wilderness of my questions, stripped of easy answers and comfortable assumptions, I encountered something real. Not the God I'd been taught about, but the God who was actually there—patient with my exploration, present in my confusion, closer than ever in my spiritual homelessness.

If you're wandering right now, if you've left familiar spiritual pastures and feel lost in territory you don't recognize, take heart. You're not the first sheep to explore beyond the fence line. The pasture will still be there when you're ready to return. But for now, there's something to be learned in the wilderness, something to be discovered in the space between leaving and arriving.

Wander thoughtfully. Question bravely. Trust that love is large enough to encompass your exploration. The shepherd's job isn't to keep you penned up—it's to make sure you're never truly lost.