Holy Wanderings

I recently heard a man named Jamie Gallaway say: "Sometimes in faith you don't know where you should be, but you know where you shouldn't be."

I was stunned. He practically summed up my seven years of following God in a single sentence. In my experience, I know when it's time to leave a place long before I know where it is I'm going. I also know I need to say no to something before I know what I'll be saying yes to instead. This has made for a dynamic journey. A path full of offshoots and mini adventures this way and that. Always moving and changing directions. Lots of transition and lots of time in-between. I recently found myself there again. I left my job because the Holy Spirit told me to. I haven't gotten a new one yet, even though I probably could and according to many definitely should, because God is offering me an alternative invitation - a sabbatical of sorts. But we'll talk more about that later.

The thing is, faith often looks foolish on the outside.

Like when you refuse to overstay when you hear God whisper, "leave." Or when you choose to stay, because you know the invitations coming you're way aren't from Him. It may look unwise or irresponsible. You may come across stagnant or inconsistent. But remember this:

Whether you leave in obedience without knowing where you're going, or you stay in obedience without knowing what you're waiting for, that is a radical choice. The kind only made by the wildly brave. The kind only made by the faithful.

So if they say you're a wanderer, because you never stay long - let them. And if they call you flighty, because you always change your mind - let them.

Wandering is movement away from the proper, normal, or usual course or place. Wandering is not keeping a rational or sensible course.

These are HOLY WANDERINGS.

Wandering is radical obedience. Wandering is what the faithful do. Wandering is a natural response to something completely supernatural: following the Holy Spirit.

It doesn’t always make sense, it isn’t always easy, and it may not be popular or well received - but here, I hope to offer you permission to be in process, uncertain, and in between. Faith to believe that God is who He says He is: a good Father, a faithful lover, the kindest King. Confidence to believe that you are everything Jesus says you are: perfectly loved, passionately desired, always enough. Encouragement to hear His voice. Boldness to say yes to His every invitation. Courage to follow the Holy Spirit, whatever it looks like, wherever it leads. Hope to dream wildly with God and inspiration to co-create with Him.

But mostly, I hope to offer you permission, permission to be here - wherever you are in this season, this very moment.

Because if your journey looks anything like mine, you are in process, uncertain, and in-between. In fact, I think it's safe to say if you're human, you are in process, uncertain, and in-between. I want to crush the lie that says you're the only one living there. I want you to know you're in good company, that this place is full of fellow Wanderers. I want to talk about this place - the confusion and the fear, the questions and hope-deferred, the beauty and the majesty.

I want to cultivate a community of people who give each other permission to be in process by being public about it.

A community of people who are unafraid of being authentically human - imperfect and unfinished. A community that declares boldly to the rest of the world who our God is by living a life of radical obedience. A community that embraces uncertainty, trusts in God's goodness and faithfulness, and follows the Holy Spirit wherever He leads - whether that's to far away places or the deepest parts of our hearts.

I want to talk about Holy Wanderings.

So if you think you might be a fellow Wanderer, would you join the conversation? Chime in. Share your experience with us. I'd love for you to invite us into your story as I invite you into mine.

Here's to Holy Wanderings - whatever they look like, wherever they lead us. And to never having to journey alone.

Thanks for wandering with me,

Jessie