I am no Bible teacher or preacher. I am just an ordinary woman who has traveled along the Way, stumbled along the Way, and somewhere along the way, sat down on a rock.

I think I only meant to sit there for a little while. Just long enough to catch my breath.

But I sat there for a good long time, watching the clouds pass by and watching other people continue along the road. Some moved forward. Some moved backward. Maybe a couple of times I got up from my rock and wandered over to look at the wildflowers growing alongside the Way.

Then maybe I became distracted by a bird sitting on a tree branch, singing some beautiful, heavenly song.

And before I knew it, I wasn’t quite sure where I was anymore.

I had followed the path. I knew the Way. But I had been sitting there for so long that when I finally looked around, I couldn’t quite remember which direction I had come from.

I knew I didn’t want to go backward. But when I looked ahead, the road seemed so long that I couldn’t see the end of it.

I didn’t know how long it would take me to get there.

It reminds me of The Pilgrim’s Progress.

I really love that movie. It’s one of those movies I think I could watch every year with my children, along with The Prince of Egypt and Joseph: King of Dreams. Superbook has been loved in our house too. There is something about seeing the stories of our faith brought to life that has always stirred something in me.

Every time I watch The Pilgrim’s Progress, I find myself thinking about where I am along the Way.

I love Christian’s determination to keep going, but I also love that his journey isn’t made to look easy. There are distractions along the road, moments of doubt, things that pull him in other directions, and times when he simply gets in his own way.

I understand that more than I wish I did.

Maybe that’s why the movie has become such a comfort to me. Every time I watch it, something in me begins to miss the Lord.

Missing God feels a little like missing someone you deeply love. He is our Father in Heaven, and when life has been particularly full or messy, sometimes we simply miss our Father. We miss talking to Him, His comfort, and the closeness that comes from intentionally spending time with Him.

We know He has been there all along. He hasn’t gone anywhere. But there is a difference between knowing someone is there and intentionally sitting down to spend time with them.

I miss that time with Him.

There was a season of my life when that time seemed to come so naturally. I was very new to my faith then, and I couldn’t seem to get enough of God’s Word.

I read my Bible every day, often throughout the day. Sometimes I cried while reading because I felt the love in every word. I felt forgiven. I felt chosen. I felt loved.

But it wasn’t only about what I felt.

I was learning about Him, and everything I learned only made me want to know Him more.

You could probably open my Bible to almost any page back then and find something highlighted. If a verse settled especially deeply into my heart, if it was something I really wanted to remember, I would print it out and tape it to the wall beside my bed.

I started writing prayers on little pieces of ripped paper and taping those up too. Before I knew it, the little corner of my bedroom where I read my Bible at night was covered in Scripture and prayers.

At night, I would sit in bed beneath the light and read my Bible. When I finished, I would move over to the window and open it, no matter the season.

Summer, fall, winter—it didn’t matter.

I would sit there talking to God while the rest of the house slept.

Some nights I didn’t say anything right away. I would sit beside the open window for a while before I began to pray. Even while praying, I might become quiet again and simply sit there for a little while.

I don’t remember ever feeling the need to fill every moment with words. I was content just to be there with Him.

When I remember that little corner of my bedroom now—the Bible, the pieces of paper taped to the wall, the open window, the quiet house—I think that was the closest I have ever felt to the Lord.

I understand now what Scripture means when it talks about becoming a new creation in Christ.

I really was new.

Things that had seemed so important before suddenly didn’t seem nearly as important anymore. Things I had worried about didn’t carry the same weight. It was as if so much of the stress I had been carrying had simply fallen away.

I loved God. I wanted to know Him. I wanted to be with Him.

And I did that night after night until we moved away from that house.

Somewhere along the way, life became full. It has a way of doing that.

We become occupied with the people we love, the homes we’re tending, the things we’re worried about, and the things we’re hoping for. Even good things can fill so much of our attention that we don’t realize we haven’t been turning toward God the way we once did.

Sometimes we don’t notice the distance growing at all.

We simply look up one day and realize how much we miss Him.

For me, sometimes it’s one of those movies that makes me look up. Sometimes it’s Scripture. Sometimes it’s standing beneath a sky full of stars. Something turns my thoughts toward Him again, and I remember how deeply I love the Lord.

I don’t know how to adequately explain the love I have for God. My heart aches for Him. I want to know Him. I want to be near Him.

And still, we can wander.

Sometimes you don’t realize how long you’ve been sitting beside the Way until you finally look up. The road ahead seems longer than you remember, and you wonder how you could possibly find your way back to where you once were with God.

I think for a long time I imagined that when I wandered, God must have been standing somewhere along the road highly disappointed in me.

It’s an easy thing to believe when we know we haven’t been walking as closely with Him as we once did. Shame has a way of making us want to hide from the very One we need.

But then I remember the way Jesus talked about those who wander.

He told us about a shepherd with one hundred sheep. When one went missing, the shepherd went after the one.

And I think about the story Jesus told of a father and his two sons. One son took his inheritance, left his father’s house, and wandered into a life that eventually left him with nothing. When he finally decided to return home, he was prepared to come back as a servant.

But his father saw him coming from a long way off.

And he ran to him.

He welcomed his son home and celebrated his return.

I am so glad Jesus told us that story. I’m glad He told us about the lost sheep too.

Because when we’ve been sitting beside the Way for a while, it can feel as though finding our way back rests entirely on us. We look at the distance ahead and wonder how long it will take.

But Jesus gives us the picture of a Shepherd who goes after His sheep, and a Father who sees His child while he is still a long way off and runs to meet him.

Maybe that’s where I am right now.

Sitting on my rock.

I’ve been here for a while. Long enough to watch some clouds pass overhead. Long enough to watch people walk by. Long enough to become distracted by the wildflowers and the birds and all the other things along the road.

But now I’m looking up.

I don’t know exactly how far down the Way I have to walk from here.

When I look ahead, I can’t see the end of the road.

But I know I miss Him.

I know I love Him.

And maybe that is enough to make me stand up from this rock and start walking the way again.