Prone to Wander


The path is narrow…and it doesn’t seem to be worn like the wide and easy lane we are drawn to. This path leads through brambles and stickers, sometimes up hills that seem too hard to climb, and rocks below feet that are weary of the trek. I can see the wide lane from where I walk. I can see the ease that some of the travelers seem to have as they leisurely stroll. So often my tired heart pulls me down the way to the wide lane. And yet my gracious shephard draws me back to the narrow path, leading me through beautiful clearings with beauty and glory all around.

My selfish and anxious heart longs for ease. Longs for a rest on that wide lane. I am so prone to wander, allowing myself to stumble off track. We all do. But a few precious souls find the right way. Through the creaky gate and past the brush and prickles and Lord, are you sure this is the right way? But my spirit knows. Its pulled onward with an internal compass with needle pointing and feet walking and body obeying.

But my reckless heart pulls toward sin like a the prostitute returning to a lover’s bed. It is simpler to find love the easy way. Harder to believe Someone loves you for you rather than what you give. So prone to wander…

His precious blood was shed for me. We didn’t have to do anything. Still don’t. Lord, are you really sure this is the right way? Even with the tugging on the heart, the two tides of my soul pulling me – the polar opposites. The journey is difficult, and I long for that place I was made for. With feet running and heart pounding and feeling and longing and are we home yet? His presence steadies me. His peace calms my soul. The only balm for the wandering wounded is His crimson flow. His utter acceptance of our rejected sin while gifting us His glorious righteousness.

I realize that the wide lane never really offers rest. As I gaze down at muddied worn shoes that have walked a path I sometimes don’t like, its like the rest in found in the walking. Because I am not companionless. I am not alone. Far bigger wounds have been received on this path than the scratches of stickers and bruises of rocks. Sunshine flickers on my face through leaves on trees and Jesus was on a tree. Beaten and battered willfully, with us in His mind’s eye. My daughter, this is the only way.

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice,
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.

Oh Lord, please let me stay on the path. Let me see the beauty in the brambles and find joy and peace and rest in the walking. Don’t let me stray; bind my wandering heart to Thee. Let me know the sweetness of your voice and your embrace on this hard path. Let my joy be complete in You and fill me with your love and acceptance.

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” -Matthew 7:13-14


  1. says

    man Erin you are a great writer and this spoke right to my heart. I am so blessed by your transparency and beautiful words here. So glad we met so I can start reading your blog :)