Hope for the Eastertide Wanderer Part 2
When Wandering Isn’t Pointless
Finding Grace in the Uncertain Path
“Wandering,” as defined by Merriam-Webster, is “characterized by aimless, slow, or pointless movement.”
That definition has been sitting with me lately. This Easter season, I’ve felt like a wanderer disoriented, unsure, slowed down. But even in the midst of uncertainty, I can’t say this wandering has been aimless or pointless. Quite the opposite, actually.
The boundaries of grace are wide and steady that even in uncertainty we find ourselves right where we are supposed to be. That’s the mystery of grace—it leads us into deeper awareness of who we are becoming. And that awareness, though often born in difficulty, carries us through the hard and the dark.
The Purpose in the Wilderness
Not all wanderings are fruitless. In fact, some are incredibly purposeful, even if they take us through wildernesses filled with pain. I’m reminded of Frodo in The Lord of the Rings—willing to journey, though often lost in unfamiliar terrain. Still, he presses on, because there’s a deeper purpose driving him forward.
This quote I stumbled upon recently put words to what my soul has been feeling:
“Yet, while wandering offers an abundance of freedom and self-discovery, it is by no means an effortless undertaking. The path of the wanderer is often riddled with uncertainty and challenges. It requires immense courage to venture into the unknown, to surrender control and trust the journey. However, it is through these trials and tribulations that the wanderer truly finds themselves.”
It rings true in so many ways and I find myself nodding yes and yet I pause. But I’ve come to believe that wandering isn’t just about self-discovery or growing resilience.
Shaped by Grief, Held by Grace
Some soul-shaping can only come through grief. And the Spirit reminds us to stay present in Easter even when the light of resurrection is shadowed by sorrow. It brings to remembrance Jesus’ words: “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41). And then like an Echo in my heart—I hear him say, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).
So how do we keep our eyes open to beauty and rest in the grace that carries us when bad news comes again? When a year feels like four because it’s been packed with loss, confusion, and unexplainable conflict?
We remember this: We are not alone. This path is marked by the companionship of Grace.We get to be present to our soul as it is formed and we feel the strength in our mortal bodies as we let go of control.
We are being formed even here. Even now.
The Gift of Presence
This journey demands much of us. It asks us to let go of control, to stay soft in suffering, to welcome others who are wandering too. But it also gives us something precious: the gift of resilience, the ability to grow through hardship, and the strength to rest.
And then come the days when the news is heartbreaking the phone call about hospice, the diagnosis, the loss you never saw coming. On those days, it feels like the light is swallowed up by darkness.
I want to give you practical advice in those moments, but instead, I offer this:
Pay attention.
Look around.
What is wrong? Acknowledge it.
But don’t stop there.
Look again.
What is right?
See it. Hold it close.
The Beauty That Keeps Us Going
So, as you pay attention you will find that your vision will sharpen and will help you find beauty in unexpected places.When I feel stuck, when I’m tempted to wallow in despair, I’ve found that looking for beauty gives me a foothold. It helps me take one more step. It offers a place for my weary wandering soul to find rest.
A soft landing place indeed.
He has drawn near and we are never the same again.
Gracefully,
Daisy
