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Finding Our Place: One Home, One Shepherd

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There is a longing that runs through the human heart—the desire to belong, to find a place where we are known, safe, and at rest. Scripture names this longing and gently redirects it. From the wilderness of Jacob to the promise of a better country, from God’s rain of provision to the voice of the Good Shepherd, we are reminded that home is not something we build alone. It is something God gives.

God Creates Home in the Wilderness

Psalm 68 portrays God as the One who moves with His people and provides for them along the way:

“Father of orphans and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God gives the desolate a home to live in; he leads out the prisoners to prosperity” (Psalm 68:5–6).

The psalm speaks of rain falling on a weary land:

“Rain in abundance, O God, you showered abroad; you restored your heritage when it languished” (Psalm 68:9).

This rain is not accidental—it is provision. God does not wait for the land to become fertile before blessing it. He sends rain first. In the same way, God does not wait for us to become settled or strong before making a place for us. He creates home for the poor, the lonely, and the displaced.

Bethel: When God Meets Us on the Road

Jacob discovers this truth in Genesis 28. He is far from home, fleeing family conflict, sleeping under the open sky. Yet it is there that God speaks:

“Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go” (Genesis 28:15).

When Jacob awakens, he says,

“Surely the LORD is in this place—and I did not know it!” (Genesis 28:16).

He names the place Bethel, meaning “house of God.” What looked like a nowhere place becomes a sacred place because God is present. Jacob learns that God’s house is not confined to buildings; it is wherever God chooses to dwell with His people.

A Better Country

Hebrews 11 reflects on people like Jacob and reminds us that they never fully settled:

“They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth” (Hebrews 11:13).

They lived by promise, not possession:

“They desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God” (Hebrews 11:16).

This does not mean the world is meaningless, but that our deepest sense of home lies beyond it. We live faithfully here while longing for something more—a belonging that cannot be shaken.

Jesus, the Gate, and the Good Shepherd

In John 10, Jesus brings clarity to this longing:

“I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture” (John 10:9).

Jesus is not only the guide; He is the way into safety and life. As the Good Shepherd, He knows His sheep and lays down His life for them (John 10:11).

Then Jesus says something startling:

“I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd” (John 10:16).

Who Are the “Other Sheep”?

In Jesus’ immediate context, the “fold” represents Israel. The “other sheep” are the Gentiles—those outside the religious, cultural, and ethnic boundaries of God’s people. But the meaning stretches even further.

Jesus is declaring that God’s home is larger than human boundaries. His flock includes those who have been excluded, overlooked, or told they do not belong. Entry into God’s people is not determined by heritage or conformity, but by listening to the Shepherd’s voice.

This fulfills God’s ancient promise:

“In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Genesis 12:3).

One Flock, One Shepherd

The goal is not many separate fields, but one flock united in Christ. Not uniformity, but unity. Not exclusion, but gathering.

For us today, this means:

  • We find our place not by fitting in, but by following Jesus.
  • We are invited into a home that stretches beyond borders and labels.
  • We are called to reflect the Shepherd’s heart by making room for others.

Living Between Here and Home

Like Jacob, we often find ourselves in between—between certainty and promise, between longing and fulfillment. Yet Scripture assures us that God walks with us, sends rain for our journey, and leads us toward a better country.

Until then, we live as people who belong—to the Shepherd, to one another, and to the hope of a home still being revealed.

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1).

And that, even now, is enough.

From Dualism to Wholeness: A Spiritual Journey Through Many Traditions Toward Sacrament, Justice, and Love

The Curious PilgrimLeave a comment

Finding Unity in the Episcopal Church After a Lifetime of Seeking

My spiritual journey has never been a straight line. I began within the Free Will Baptist tradition, carrying with me the dualistic view of sacred and profane, and the heavy sense that humanity was broken and bound for judgment. Yet, as the years passed, my experiences, teachers, and encounters with different traditions began to weave together a richer tapestry of faith—one that ultimately led me to the Episcopal Church.

Learning That Life Is Relation

At Free Will Baptist Bible College, I sat under Professor Leroy Forlines, who wrote on Bible ethics and taught that life is essentially about relationships. He described four foundational ones: with God, with others, with ourselves, and with the universe. That idea—that life is relation—stuck with me. It gave me a framework that would shape how I interpreted every new encounter with spirituality.

Wesleyan Influence and the Methodist Way

After years in the Free Will Baptist Church, I had the opportunity to serve as a Church of the Nazarene pastor. Through that experience, I became acquainted with John Wesley. His teaching opened my eyes to a broader vision of Christian faith, one that emphasized holiness, grace, and practical living. Eventually, I found my way into the Methodist Church, where I discovered the Wesleyan Quadrilateral: truth is discerned through Scripture, Reason, Experience, and Tradition. This made so much sense to me—so different from the sola scriptura approach of the Free Will Baptist and Nazarene churches.

In 1997, I formally joined the United Methodist Church and went on to attend Memphis Theological Seminary. There, Dr. Barry Bryant, a Methodist professor, drilled into us the heart of the Gospel: love God and love your neighbor as yourself. From him I also learned the depth of sacrament and sacramentalism—seeing God’s grace in ordinary, tangible ways.

The Splitting of the UMC

In more recent years, I watched the United Methodist Church fracture over LGBTQ ordination. Many congregations left, and I felt the services lose some of the liturgical richness rooted in Anglican tradition. My heart longed for a worship that was more sacramental, more connected to the deep rhythms of Anglican and Catholic practice. I yearned for a place where my expanding spirituality—shaped by so many influences—could be fully lived.

Streams That Shaped Me

By this time, I had already been shaped by multiple streams of faith:

  • Native American spirituality taught me that everything is sacred and all life is interconnected.
  • Quaker spirituality taught me to listen for the Inner Light and to seek truth in silence and simplicity.
  • Progressive Christianity taught me that love and justice are the heart of the Gospel, and inclusivity is non-negotiable.
  • Taoism, through the teaching of Dr. Larry Campbell, showed me the wisdom of balance, harmony, and flow.

All of these formed within me a vision of faith that went beyond dogma—one that cherished relationship, inclusion, and sacrament.

Finding Home in the Episcopal Church

That longing found its home at St. James Episcopal Church in Springfield, Missouri. Here, I discovered a community where all the influences of my journey seemed to converge. The liturgy connects me to the ancient church, the sacraments bring depth and meaning, and the spirit of inclusion reflects the love I had discovered in Progressive Christianity. I can see the harmony of Native American spirituality, the silence and integrity of Quakerism, and the wisdom of Taoism alive in this community’s practices.

In Essence

I became an Episcopalian because it is the one place where all the streams of my journey flow together. It is where sacrament and justice meet, where ancient tradition embraces progressive inclusion, and where the beauty of worship reflects the sacredness of all creation. For me, the Episcopal Church is not just a denomination—it is the home where my faith, shaped by so many influences, has found its resting place.