Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.
—E. B. White
You might have seen the bumper sticker “Not all who wander are lost” proudly displayed on anything from a beat-up old Jeep to a Prius Hybrid. When I see it, a smile always creeps across my face. I assume the driver is a Lord of the Rings fan and probably doesn’t feel controlled by a map or obsessed with a destination. When I think about it, I long to take off in any direction and find whatever I might discover along the path.
The problem is that wandering in real life usually doesn’t feel like an adventure. It feels like the wilderness—full of unknown dangers. Wandering through a wilderness, with no apparent exit, often feels like a nightmare.
Pressing into new ways of thinking can be exciting at first—like a whole new world is opening up. But for most of us, any thrill from new ideas and perspectives is quickly squelched by the weight of the questions and doubts that arise. The wilderness feels completely foreign, a terrain we are ill equipped to navigate. We look at the wilderness that surrounds us and realize we can journey in any direction, and the truth is, we have no idea where we will end up.
Let me tell you about Sam. He found himself in the wilderness unexpectedly after a broken relationship and some bad experiences with a few Christians who, let’s just say, weren’t exactly following the heart of Jesus. This season of questions came during the peak of the popularity of the young-adult dystopian novel-turned-film The Hunger Games. So Sam felt like one of those futuristic hovercrafts had dropped him into the woods without anything to defend himself with.
He felt like he was plopped down right in the middle of a forest so thick with trees that only glimmers of light could get in. He couldn’t tell which way would lead him out of the darkness and doubt, but he knew he had to do something.
He tried to find books, films, and podcasts that addressed the questions consuming his mind. Sometimes he’d fall down an online rabbit hole so deep that before he knew it, it was 2:00 a.m., only a few hours before he had to be up for work. Thoughts constantly buzzed in his mind, especially when someone was talking about faith or the Divine. He found it difficult to quiet the noise when he needed to go to sleep or pay attention in a meeting at work, so he turned to hours of mind-numbing video games and nights out with friends who were also trying to numb their own pain and worry. He could escape from the darkness for a time, but it was always short-lived.
Not knowing how to take intentional steps in any direction, Sam began to wander, feeling lost without a compass. There was none of the excitement or whimsy the bumper sticker implied, just a sense of dread. He eventually found himself in what felt like the quicksand I had experienced—stuck. Those pits can come up unexpectedly in unknown terrain. Questioning became wandering, and wandering led to being stuck.
We all experience wilderness in our lives—it’s not a matter of if but when we will find ourselves in a period of wilderness wandering. For most people, wilderness seasons are cyclical and happen throughout our lives when we experience questions, doubts, loss, transition, or other disruptions.
The theme of wilderness crops up all over the place in the narrative of the Bible—from the forty years the Israelites spent wandering in the desert in Exodus to the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness in preparation for ministry. All of these wilderness accounts share one thing in common: the storyteller believes that it is God who leads the people into the wilderness.
God led the people around by the desert road toward the Red Sea. (Exodus 13:18 NIV)
Therefore I [God] led them out of Egypt and brought them into the wilderness. (Ezekiel 20:10 NIV)
Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness. (Matthew 4:1 NIV)
Why would God lead people, who God supposedly loved, into such treacherous and difficult conditions?
Having the benefit of hindsight, we can see that wilderness leads to something better, something greater, something more that God wanted for them. In the story of the exodus, the people were in captivity. They had much more certainty than they did in the wilderness, but they weren’t free. Sometimes what seems like certainty in our lives is actually just a form of sneaky bondage. God wants us to be able to live freely!
In each story, when the people are in the middle of the wilderness, uncertainty is towering around them. The questions and doubts feel all-consuming: Will we have our needs met? Is God really there? Should we find other gods? How can we trust this God who is leading us into the wilderness? Maybe we should just go back to where we came from; even though we weren’t free, at least we knew what to expect.
But they couldn’t go back. Once you’re in the wilderness, you have now seen too much. Going back to where you started isn’t an option.
Uncertainty often clouds the views of those in the story. But there is something at the other end that God deeply wants for those being led through the wilderness: a life that is more free, full, and vibrant than anything they could have experienced without the journey through the woods.
There’s no way to know for certain whether it is God leading you away from a place of comfort and into a place of wilderness. If it is God leading you, it could mean there is something significant worth pursuing on the other side of the forest, desert, or woods (with some experience, I have found that the wilderness can take many forms in different seasons of life). You might feel like you want to turn around and go back. I know I did! The tension of the wilderness strains your mind and heart, and it’s exhausting.
If, like me, you found yourself stuck in the quicksand of doubt, questions, and confusion, perhaps you don’t have to stay there. You can’t go back to where you came from, but maybe you don’t have to wander in the wilderness of uncertainty alone.
What if wonder is the point of the wilderness?
If the wilderness wandering we read about in Scripture were reframed as a time of wonder, it would be an entirely different experience! I see the difference between wandering and wondering like this:
Wandering is a coping mechanism of avoidance that tries to minimize what is uncomfortable.
Wondering is an active pursuit of questions and a willingness to risk the tension in the unknown.
Wandering is a way to steer clear of the stress that comes from a deep concern about the direction that might be best for you and others around you.
Wondering is a heightened curiosity about God, yourself, others, and the world that, while often uncomfortable, is full of passion and intrigue.
Wandering is motivated by fear, confusion, apathy, and an endless search for novelty.
Wondering is motivated by passionate uncertainty about the mystery of God and the excitement that comes with discovery.
Throughout the story, God was inviting a different approach. And God still offers that invitation to us—to take on a posture of wonder.
Wonder that fuels our passion and leads to discovery. Wonder that pushes us to even deeper questions and away from pat answers. God is calling us not to satisfying contentment but to deeper meaning-making experiences—the kind of experiences that bring a community or a family closer together rather than further apart. The kind of journey that invites the courage to risk and squelches apathy.
With questions propelling us along the way, we wonder through the woods rather than wander.
Those who wonder aren’t lost—they are propelled by curiosity. They may not know the destination, but learning and discovery begin to mean more.
Let’s get back to Sam’s story. I should tell you that Sam is a stand-in for all kinds of people I’ve encountered in my life. Maybe you see some of Sam’s story in your own. Perhaps you’ve tried different methods of plowing through or escaping the wilderness, but the core realities of the wilderness resonate with some of your experience.
So the end of Sam’s story depends on the choice between wandering and wondering. There are as many different results as there are stories, but I see two overarching themes.
The Sams who continue to wander often have an increase in frustration, apathy, anger, and general dissatisfaction in their life. I see many of them end up isolated from others, including their faith communities, families, and sometimes even their spouses or former confidants. They grow frustrated that everyone around them doesn’t seem to “get it” and struggle to see why others aren’t also wandering through the wilderness. Some of these Sams conclude that others simply aren’t as enlightened, and they begin to disconnect from people and communities. On their own, they begin to lose their passion for justice or causes they once cared about. Wandering has kept them from being propelled by the purpose that used to guide them. Even the spiritual practices that had been helpful are set aside as the distractions of daily life take over.
Then there are the Sams who begin to let the wonder of their questions lead them through the trees and out of what once seemed like perpetual darkness. Their destination is unknown, but as they journey through the wilderness, they find themselves glimpsing what Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. once called “the far side of complexity.” The questions aren’t all answered, but they don’t loom like they once did. These Sams are able to participate communally again, but now in ways that are fresh with meaning and a deeper understanding of the world around them. Having been through it, they have a lot more grace than they once did for others who might think differently.
They know that they need others to understand God and themselves. Ultimately, they have made the personal choice to actively integrate their faith with their life experiences. They probably have a very different understanding of God than they had before the wilderness, but they have peace with the continual process of knowing God. It’s a reality that some come to a place where they don’t believe God exists and start to experience how much faith is required for that conclusion. Those who have taken responsibility for their faith formation realize their own agency in the decisions they make to live that faith out in the world. The distinction is, they didn’t get to where they are by accident, but rather guided by wonder.
The far side of complexity is not something easily reached; it’s not a destination of certainty that we may hope for. By taking it one step at a time, propelled by wonder through the wilderness seasons of life, we all can experience the freedom that comes when we embrace wonder.
Two very different outcomes, but it starts with one choice. To wander or to wonder.