Give me a partially washed-out dirt road with gravel on the side. Not a perfect road. Not a smooth road, or one of those polished streets with painted lines and lights telling everybody exactly when to stop and go.
Give me the old dirt road.
The one with ruts in it. The one where rain has cut across the path and left you no choice but to slow down. The one with gravel pushed off to the side, fence posts leaning a little, weeds reaching in from the edge, and sunlight falling across it late in the day.
Man oh man, that kind of road builds the heart, family, and most important, faith.
A road like that teaches you how to pay attention. You cannot drive it half asleep. You have to feel where the tires are at all times. You have to know when to ease over, when to slow down, and when to let the wheels find the firm place again.
Life is like that too.
Most of us would prefer the clean road. The easy road. You know, the one without washouts, loose gravel, or hidden holes. But that is not always the road we are given. Sometimes the road home is rough and dirty. Sometimes it rattles us more than we expected.
Rough does not mean lost, dirty does not mean wrong, and washed out does not mean finished.
In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus spoke of two ways. One was broad and easy to travel, and many went that way. The other was narrow, harder, and led to life. That has always stayed with me. The right road is not always the smooth road. Sometimes the road that leads to life has some ruts in it.
I have lived enough years now to know that “home” is not always as simple as the place where you started. Sometimes the place where you started was messy. Sometimes it was painful. Sometimes it had things in it nobody wanted to name out loud.
But God has a way of bringing a man through the mess without making the mess his master.
Psalm 23 says, “He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” That does not mean every path feels easy underfoot. It means the Shepherd knows where He is leading. Even when the valley shows up. Even when the road dips. Even when the shadows get long.
There were times in my life when I thought I was just trying to survive the road. I did not know it was teaching me how to steer.
Looking back, I can see places where I could have gone over the edge. I can see old habits, old pain, old family patterns, and bad thinking pulling like a team of horses headed toward a cliff. But somewhere along the way, by the grace of God, I took hold of the reins.
That is not denial.
Denial says, “Nothing happened.” Faith says, “Something happened, but it does not get to drive anymore.”
There is a difference.
The apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 3:13-14 that he was forgetting what was behind and reaching forward to what was ahead, pressing toward the goal. I do not believe Paul meant he had no memory. I believe he meant the past no longer had the reins.
That is a powerful thing, folks. A man can remember but not be ruled by it. A man can tell the truth without becoming bitter. We can look back at the washed-out places and still keep moving toward home.
And maybe that is what home really is.
Home isn’t always the old house, family pictures, and most certainly not a place where everyone got it right.
Sometimes home is what God helps us build after we finally stop running from where we started. Sometimes home is a table where truth is allowed to sit down. Sometimes home is a porch light left on for somebody else. Sometimes home is finding six siblings that you never knew were missing. Sometimes home is a heart that has been through the ditch, found the road again, and learned to be kind anyway.
The prodigal son in Luke 15 knew something about roads. He took a road away from home, chasing what he thought he wanted. Then he found himself empty, hungry, and humbled. And when he came to himself, he turned back toward his father’s house.
That phrase matters: “he came to himself.”
Sometimes finding your way home begins right there, and you come to yourself.
You stop pretending the far country is feeding you and stop calling the ditch a destination.
You stop letting shame name you, you turn around and take the road home.
Maybe the road is muddy. Maybe it is washed out in places. Maybe there is gravel on the side and dust on your boots. That is okay, just keep going.
Home is not always a paved road. Sometimes it is rutted, washed out, and patched with gravel.
But if you know the road, you know the way, and if you will let the Lord lead, even the rough road can bring you home.
