Can being lost be a spiritual exercise? I just finished reading the chapter entitled, "The Practice of Getting Lost," in Barbara Brown Taylor's, An Altar in the World. She talks about the human propensity of wanting the familiar path. Most people opt for what they know rather than venture into the unknown, whether it is the route to a favorite park or a night out at a restaurant. Choosing the unfamiliar is always a risk. Although some people are naturally adventurous, most seem to prefer the predictability of the familiar. However, there are times when we all find ourselves lost for one reason or another. Maybe we take a wrong turn on a highway or choose the wrong direction at the fork of a state park path. Usually, these periods of lostness are benign, the feeling of panic misplaced. I remember hiking many years ago in the woods of a county park with Carl and three small children, one of whom was an infant. We had begun our hike in the late afternoon, and having never been in this particular park before, we got confused about our direction and couldn't find our way out of the woods. I still remember the feeling of vulnerability being alone in a strange forest with daylight waning, particularly because we had a baby. I think Carl was nervous, too, but his mind immediately went into survival mode and turned to wilderness lore from Louis L'Amore westerns as he playfully scouted for places to camp. As we kept walking, we eventually heard the sound of traffic and followed it to a road which eventually led us back to our parked car. We were never in any real danger, but for a few moments, it felt like we might be. That memory is sealed in my brain because of the adrenaline the experience produced. Other times and kinds of lostness are much more serious and prolonged.

Taylor recalls the pattern of lostness in the Old Testament record of the wanderings of the people of Israel. She contends that in their most famous wilderness travel, the 40 years in the wilderness after the exodus from Egypt, "God strengthened that wilderness gene in them, the one that made them strong and resourceful even as it reminded them how perishable they were. By the time they arrived in the land of milk and honey, they knew how to say thank you and mean it"(74-75).  Furthermore, Taylor figures that the experience gave them the chutzpah to make it through other periods of lostness, like the cultural wilderness of the Babylonian exile (75). Indeed, there is a hint in the Biblical record that God wanted them to use their experiences of lostness to extend empathy to other wanderers when he commands them to "... love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt" (83). Taylor concludes that lostness "can become a spiritual practice once you are willing to approach it that way--once you let it bring you to your knees and show you what is real, including who you really are, who other people are, and how near God can be when you have lost your way... [and] the best way to grow empathy for those who are lost is to know what it means to be lost yourself" (82-83).

I have just gone through (maybe still going through) a period of profound lostness following our move to Savannah. It has been a lostness of identity and purpose and place. There has been no solid ground for my feet to stand on. Maybe this is an altar in the world for me, a place of weakness and vulnerability and emptiness where I can kneel before God in total dependence. Maybe it is also one more experience for me to savor because it will give me more points of connection to people who are facing their own lostness. I believe that is why my son, Jeremy, was able to extend grace and wisdom and strength to me. He also has experienced suffocating lostness and barren wilderness wandering. He felt my pain and was able to speak into it with knowledge and extend courage to me.

But back to my original question: Can lostness be a spiritual exercise? I believe so. It is uncomfortable. My soul seeks to avoid it. Sometimes it is terrifying. Nevertheless, it causes me to bore down deeper into life dependent on the Divine, and it opens up awareness, understanding, and connection with other human beings that can only occur when I have walked in the wilderness. And thankfully, even in the midst of lostness, God can live through me in a life-giving way, touching others with His grace and goodness. I have lived this and know it to be true, which is very heartening. Because, really, when are we ever not at least a little bit lost?