By the time I got to college, my struggle with the Church and my faith, like many of my Christian peers, was silent. I wasn’t crying out for help or rebelling to get attention, but every day I was wrestling with big questions that I didn’t have the guts to ask anyone. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t certain of exactly what I believed or why. I wasn’t surrounded by lifelong Christians.

Every day I met people with different religious backgrounds and moral belief systems who aggressively challenged mine, and I was embarrassed when I couldn’t defend why I didn’t drink, sleep with my boyfriend, or cheat on exams.

Because of these new relationships and intentional conversations, I found myself questioning the rules and religious rituals I had adopted growing up simply by association. I felt more loved by perfect strangers than those in my church community back home.

I attended standing-room-only campus events with classmates where topics were debated as students sat in open windows and listened from the lawn. I would leave those gatherings asking really important questions. Why did I believe what I believe? What if I was wrong? What if all these other people who were living without so many rules were actually right? Is heaven real? Is God real? Is the Bible relevant for today’s world? Did God really say that?

For the first time, I was wandering. It was messy, uncomfortable, clumsy, and emotional as I tried to detangle myself from religion and still hold on to the Jesus I knew.

Sometimes, even when others can’t see it, our wandering is the very thing that is meant to lead us home to God. I think of the story in Luke 2:41–52, where Jesus, just a boy, knew he had a call on his life, a mandate, a specific assignment that only he could fulfill, and he found himself on a journey with his parents to Jerusalem for the Feast of Passover. At twelve years old he didn’t need a career day to figure out where his life was headed; he was drawn to the temple and the teachers and he wandered from his parents to sit and learn from those doing the very thing he knew he was called to do.

The whole time Jesus was in the temple, of course, his parents were searching all over for him, assuming he was somewhere among the pilgrims, relatives, or friends. They were furious that he’d run off and they were frantic to find him. People panic when others wander. And yet the passage notes that “the teachers were all quite taken with [Jesus], impressed with the sharpness of his answers” (v. 47 MSG). Those on the outside were looking for a lost Jesus, but those to whom he had wandered welcomed him in. What a validating moment it must have been for Jesus to finally feel like he was sitting among those who understood him! Even these scholars could see that at twelve years old, Jesus had something special and unique.

I think many of us wander off to find our people, who we are, what we believe, and if anyone believes in us. We’re not looking to go rogue; we’re looking to be heard, validated, and understood.

I don’t think any of us start this process of wondering and wandering hoping to get lost. While I’m not suggesting we spend our entire lives in this place, I am suggesting we give ourselves and others grace and time to find the answers we’re looking for, and that we trust God knows exactly where we are.

We are all at different points in our wandering with Jesus. We each have different experiences, unique passions and personalities that impact our journey, and nobody can do this hard and holy work for us. We walk through wrong doors, sometimes by accident and other times by choice, and every single time he meets us on the other side.

He will leave the ninety-nine to find the one.

It’s okay if sometimes we’re the one.

We all wander off from time to time, and God does not give up on us if we’re gone a day or fifty years.

He doesn’t shame us or scold us. He celebrates our return because what was lost has been found.

He still calls us son and daughter.

The good news for you and me is that even in our wandering God has never changed his mind about us. He is so very sure of who we are in him and who he has created us to be, even on the days we feel lost, unheard, or like we’re being held back.

The beauty of wandering is that we find all sorts of things we didn’t expect to find along the way, and the journey becomes a part of our unique story. My own personal wandering would lead me from the classroom back into the sanctuary, where I met some incredible people—some who knew Jesus, some who were getting to know him, and others who were walking away. Part of my journey was finding that I really did love God and the Church, even though I carried scars and wounds that were still actively healing.

I learned to listen to people, really listen to where they were and to help them detangle and unravel from some of the very lies I had believed that had led to my own wandering and wondering. When we as the Church embark on our own faith journey and admit to having our own big questions and doubts, it’s amazing how much grace and patience we carry for those in the middle of their own.

I don’t know where you are in your wandering, but I want you to know that you are deeply loved and seen by God. There are a lot of voices speaking over you as you scroll social media looking for those who will listen to you and validate your season or assignment. Many voices will point fingers at people who hurt you and encourage you to do the same, but I challenge you to look for those who will sit with you and remind you who you are in Christ.

Who are those people you admire? Who walks with Jesus in a way that doesn’t make you feel judged but embraces your part of the journey and wants to join you on the adventure? Who shows you a Jesus who is patient and kind, slow to anger and quick in love? These are the people we look for along the way.

Don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop wandering.

We’ve got places to go.

Excerpted from Raised to Stay: Persevering in Ministry When You Have a Million Reasons to Walk Away © 2023 Natalie Runion. Used by permission of David C Cook. May not be further reproduced. All rights reserved.

Natalie Runion is an author, speaker, worship leader, songwriter and the founder of Raised to Stay, a ministry for those raised in the church who are finding their own healing, calling and voice in church leadership. Natalie and Tony Runion live with their daughters in Colorado Springs, CO, and they attend New Life Church where Natalie recently served as a pastor. Natalie is the host of the Raised to Stay Podcast and the author of a forthcoming book entitled Raised to Stay: Persevering in Ministry When You Have a Million Reasons to Walk Away. www.RaisedtoStay.com