Newsletter – Clearing A Way For God
“A voice of one calling: ‘In the wilderness, prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’” (Isaiah 40 vs 3)
When I read those words, they caught me off guard. I found myself wondering … is my heart now a wilderness?
A wilderness isn’t necessarily a desert. It’s a place that’s become wild, overgrown and unmanaged. And if I’m honest, that feels uncomfortably close to home.
There was a time when my inner life felt tended. I kept rhythms of prayer, reflection and rest. I would find quiet spaces where I could listen and breathe again. But lately, the weeds of distraction have taken over. The paths I once walked with ease have become blurred. I’ve let the boundaries go soft.
The strange thing is, in nature, a return to wildness can be good; it brings new life, biodiversity, balance. But there isn’t really an equivalent in the human soul. My heart doesn’t thrive on neglect. When I stop tending it, it doesn’t get richer – it gets tangled. Prayer becomes harder. Gratitude shrinks. Joy feels out of reach.
So, when Isaiah calls out, “Prepare the way for the Lord,” it feels less like a poetic metaphor and more like a lifeline. Don’t tidy everything up. Don’t pretend the wilderness isn’t there. Just clear a path. Make a way for God to enter, even through the mess.
That’s what Advent feels like for me; not a call to make everything beautiful, but to make space by carving a rough track through the overgrowth. To stop waiting for the perfect conditions before I invite God in.
Because that’s the point: God doesn’t wait for order. He comes into the wild. Into the chaos, the exhaustion, the half-hearted prayers and the untamed corners of my heart.
So, this Advent, I’m not trying to impress him with an immaculate garden. I’m just trying to give him a way in.
The wilderness will probably still be wild. But if God walks through it, maybe it will start to grow into something new again.
Every blessing,
Andrew Gadd
