Bringing The Wanderer Back (James 5:19-20)
Sometimes in our congregation, there is a silent drift, a subtle slip from the warm light into the shadows. It's not the joyful departure of a soul ascending to heaven that preoccupies our thoughts today, but the quiet, often unnoticed wandering of a brother or sister from the truth. Do you know someone who has wandered from the truth?
Imagine walking through a dense forest with a friend, the path is narrow, the underbrush thick. You’re both headed to a glorious clearing. Along the way, you become so enthralled with the beauty of the clearing ahead, the promise of rest, that you fail to notice your friend has become distracted and left your side. Their pace slowed; the distance between you grew. By the time you reach the clearing, your heart sinks as you realize—they are no longer beside you. They have gotten off the narrow path, become entangled, and cannot get free.
In the book of James, chapter 5, verses 19 and 20, we are confronted with this spiritual parallel. It tells of those among us who might stray, who might falter in their steps along the narrow way. And it speaks to those who are vigilant, the steadfast, charging them with a mission to extend their hands back into the thorns, back into the shadows, to bring the wanderers home.
Why do they wander? How do they lose their way? And can we, flawed and weak as we are, bring them back to the fold? These are the questions that stir our souls and summon our spirits to action. For in this divine search and rescue mission, there will be both success and failure. Yet, even in failure, there is a lesson to be gleaned, a wisdom to be absorbed.
Wandering From The Truth
James 5:19–20 (ESV) — 19 My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, 20 let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.
What does it mean to wander from the truth? Notice he did not say reject the truth. In the journey of faith, to wander is not always to willfully turn away; it is sometimes to drift imperceptibly from the truth that once anchored us. The reasons are as varied as the stars in the heavens and as unique as the souls that carry them. Let us first seek to understand the 'why' before we can grasp the 'how'.
Why does a soul wander? Often, it begins with doubt—the smallest seed that can grow into a sprawling weed. Doubt in God’s goodness amidst trials, doubt in His providence amidst pain, doubt in His presence amidst silence. Doubt is not the enemy of faith; it is, in fact, a part of its very fabric. But when doubt becomes disillusionment, when it festers unattended in the heart, it leads to a silent departure from the truth we once held dear.
Sometimes, the wander is prompted by the allure of sin—sin that promises freedom but binds the soul in chains. It is the siren call that seems to understand us, to empathize with our desires, to whisper that the narrow way is too restrictive, too antiquated. And in the quest for self-discovery, for self-fulfillment, the truth is traded for a lie, the eternal for the ephemeral.
How, then, does this wandering happen? It is rarely a conscious choice to abandon faith; more often, it is a series of compromises, small concessions made to the world and to the flesh. It is a book of truth laid down and slowly covered by the dust of the world, a prayer life that dims like the embers of a once-blazing fire.
It happens in the quiet moments when the heart whispers its disillusionment, and the world echoes back its agreement. It happens in the crowded rooms where the laughter of the moment drowns out the call to eternity. It happens in the secret places where sin’s pleasure overshadows sin’s cost.
But make no mistake, beloved, this wandering is not the end of the story. It is but a chapter, a detour in the greater narrative that God is writing with each life. And if we are to bring back the wanderers, we must first understand the depths from which we are calling them home. We must understand, because we too have felt the pull of the world, we too have known the seduction of sin, and we too have been held in the grip of grace that refused to let us go.
Causes
There are many facets of wandering, let us consider how the Christian develops subtle and pervasive reasons to stray from the truth. First, I want to point out three major issues inside of us that tangle us up, guilt, shame, discouragement. Then, we will look at other sources or wandering. But all of the other sources of our wandering are usually tied to these three feelings inside of us.
Guilt, brethren, is a relentless pursuer. When the conscience is burdened by the weight of past failings, the soul may seek to escape the accusing voice within by plunging into sin’s deceptive tranquility. It is a paradox of the fallen human condition—that we would sin in an attempt to forget sin, that we would err further to evade the pain of our errors.
Desires for wealth, power, and pleasure can often be the breeding ground for guilt. When these desires lead us to actions contrary to our faith, guilt emerges as the stark reminder of the disparity between our conduct and our convictions. The pursuit of these transient treasures can lead to a rapid departure from the truth when the soul seeks to silence the guilt through further indulgence in sin.
And then there is shame—the crippling sense that not only have we done wrong, but that we are wrong, fundamentally flawed at the core. Shame wraps its chains around a person’s identity, convincing them that they are beyond the reach of grace, beyond the embrace of the church, beyond the love of the Father, beyond hope. In an attempt to shed this identity, one might wander far from the truth that once declared them righteous and redeemed, seeking to justify their actions and redeem themselves.
The influence of others can magnify feelings of shame. As we behold others' perceived successes and righteousness, our own shortcomings become glaringly apparent. This influence can drive one to seek acceptance elsewhere, away from the truth that we believe has exposed our inadequacies. Cultural pressures compound this by offering immediate, albeit false, solutions to the pain of rejection. We desire to conform so we can feel accepted by those who walk in darkness and do not practice the truth. This approval seeking can lead to a quick departure from biblical truth when that truth seems to be the source of our ostracization.
Lastly, let us consider discouragement, which can strike like a tempest, uprooting the soul from its secure standing in truth. Trials that shake our world can lead to discouragement so profound that it propels a soul into the arms of worldly comforts. When faced with suffering, the truth of Scripture that calls for perseverance may seem too distant, too impractical compared to the immediate relief offered by the world. Our own expectations and standards aren’t being met. The tension is pulling us apart and we want to give up.
What is Happening?
The hardening of the heart through persistent sin can turn a moment of guilt, shame, or discouragement into a definitive turning point. The heart that has become calloused over time is more likely to break away swiftly when new waves of guilt or shame wash over it, seeking a place where it no longer feels the sting of conviction. We must realize that Satan is working to deceive us into giving up hope. Deception that is close to the truth is particularly insidious. It provides justifications and excuses for sin, offering a ‘theological’ wiggle room that can quickly rationalize our way into wandering, especially when we are seeking to alleviate guilt or shame.
Neglect in spiritual disciplines such as study, prayer, and fellowship can leave us vulnerable to sudden falls. Without these anchors, when guilt or shame strikes, there is no practiced habit of turning to God, and the soul instead turns away, looking for solace.
In our understanding of these rapid departures, we find a multifaceted challenge and a compelling call to action. We are reminded that our response must address not just the immediate feelings of guilt, shame, and discouragement, but also the underlying currents that have made the soul susceptible to such a swift exit. Our ministry must therefore be holistic, compassionate, and grounded in the truth that can weather the swift and slow wanderings alike.
Bringing Them Back
Brethren, let us now turn our hearts to the hopeful task of restoration—the beckoning call to bring back the wanderer. The question that may weigh heavily upon our hearts is this: Is it possible to bring them back? And if so, how do we, as a community of faith, engage in this sacred endeavor?
Scripture speaks with resounding clarity that not only is it possible to restore the wandering soul, but it is a pursuit that pleases the heart of God. James reminds us that whoever turns a sinner from the error of their way will save them from death and cover over a multitude of sins. This is the divine potential of restoration.
Patience
But how do we embark on this mission of mercy? It begins with a posture of humility and a spirit of gentleness. Galatians 6:1 exhorts us to restore the one caught in sin gently, mindful that we too are susceptible to temptation. In this spirit, we approach our wandering brethren not as judges, but as fellow pilgrims who have known the misstep and the grace that follows.
Our steps toward restoration are paved with prayer, patience, and persistent love. Prayer is our first and continual resort—petitioning the Father to open the wanderer's eyes to His truth and to give us the wisdom to reach them effectively.
Patience is our steadfast companion in this journey. We acknowledge that the road back may be slow and winding, and we commit to walking it for as long as it takes, without succumbing to frustration or despair. The bold proclamation of condemnation might seem like the easy way, but it will get us nowhere but backward. Their guilt and shame will push them right back to sin for safety. We don’t like being attacked and accused by people who haven’t taken time to understand us. We don’t like to be pressured to make a change quickly.
Persistent love is the force that undergirds our every effort. It is the kind of love that does not give up, that believes beyond what is seen, and that reaches out even when the hand is not immediately grasped.
In practical terms, restoration may involve personal conversations where listening takes precedence over speaking, understanding over correcting. It may require the context of community—reengaging the wanderer with the body of Christ, where they can witness faith in action, grace in community, and love in service.
We must also be tactful in addressing the issues that led them astray, be it doctrinal confusion, moral failure, or personal hurt. Addressing these issues with biblical truth, spoken in love, can guide the wanderer back to the path of righteousness.
Let us not forget that our role is to point the way; it is the Holy Spirit who convicts and converts the heart. We plant and water the seeds of truth, but it is God who makes them grow.
Discipline
But as we consider all of the Bible, we see a tension between patience and discipline. Scripture does not shy away from this tension but provides us with a framework for understanding and action. Withdrawal, though a severe measure, is a scriptural directive with a redemptive aim: to bring a soul back to God.
In Matthew 18, Christ Himself lays out the steps for dealing with a brother who sins against us, escalating from private confrontation to involving one or two others, and finally, telling it to the church. If the errant brother refuses to listen even to the church, he is to be treated "as you would a pagan or a tax collector." This treatment is not out of spite, but out of a desperate plea for the individual to recognize the gravity of their sin—a spiritual shock therapy, if you will.
Similarly, in 1 Corinthians 5, Paul admonishes the church to expel the wicked person from among them. This withdrawal serves as a sober wake-up call, a hope that the stark reality of separation might lead to repentance. It is a loving, if painful, action that aims to protect the purity of the church and the soul of the wanderer.
However, the goal is always restoration, not retribution. This is where 2 Corinthians provides us with the beautiful picture of reconciliation. When the offender has repented, the response of the church should be one of readiness to forgive and comfort, to reaffirm love, lest the repentant one be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow.
Withdrawal is never to be done hastily or without deep anguish. It is a last resort when all other avenues of restoration have been exhausted, and it must always be accompanied by the continual hope and prayer for the wanderer's return.
In executing such a difficult practice, the desired outcome is clear: to awaken the conscience of the one in error, to protect the church from sin's leaven, and ultimately, to restore the individual to fellowship with God and His people. It is a delicate balance of truth and love, discipline and grace.
Let us hold fast to this: withdrawal is not the end of the story. It is part of a larger narrative of redemption. As we stand firm on the truth of God's Word and extend the grace that has been so lavishly poured upon us, we participate in the divine work of turning sinners from the error of their ways, saving souls from death, and covering a multitude of sins with the love of Christ.
The True Measure of Success
In the pursuit of shepherding the wayward back to the fold, we must discern what true success looks like. It is not merely the presence of a body in a pew, nor the superficial compliance with church norms. Success is not measured by the quantity of people who sit before us, but by the quality of their walk with the Lord. True success, then, is a heart fully surrendered to God—a heart that repents genuinely and walks steadfastly in truth and obedience.
Success is not the absence of wandering hearts among us; rather, it is the presence of a vigilant, caring community that reaches out to the lost with discernment and love. It is the diligent work of the church to seek out the drifting soul, to offer a lifeline of truth and to extend the hand of fellowship once again. Our mission is clear: we are not merely to increase our numbers, but to disciple hearts that are fully committed to Christ.
James provides a profound insight into this mission. He compels us to see that in bringing back a sinner from wandering, we are partaking in the divine labor of saving a soul from death. It is not our persuasive words, but God's Spirit that brings conviction and transformation. Yet, God, in His magnificent design, has chosen to include us in this holy endeavor. He uses our faithful witness, our prayers, our loving rebukes, and our tears shed in secret to draw souls back to Him.
Let us not grow weary in this great task, for in doing so, we align ourselves with the heart of the Father. To save a lost soul, to restore a brother or sister, is to touch the very fabric of eternity. It is to participate in the joy of heaven itself, where there is more rejoicing over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.
Understanding Failure in Our Mission
In grappling with the realities of our mission to bring back those who wander, we must also acknowledge the possibility of failure. The epistles are candid about this; even among the early Christians there were those who strayed despite earnest efforts to guide them. Paul, in his poignant letters to Timothy, lays bare the struggles and defections within the church (2 Tim 4:9-10). This isn’t a modern malaise; it is a thread woven into the fabric of our faith history.
Let’s take heart, though, for failure might not be a sign that we have not labored enough or cared deeply enough. Each individual's response to the truth is a personal journey between them and God. While we are called to be faithful stewards of the Gospel, planting seeds and watering them, it is God who gives the growth. The decision to reject or accept the truth, to wander or to remain, ultimately rests on the shoulders of each individual.
Paul's transparency with Timothy is instructive for us. It serves as a reminder that our responsibility is to present the truth in love, to live it out authentically in our own lives, and to pray fervently for those who are faltering. However, the choice to heed or to ignore that truth is not ours to make. It is vital to own our missteps and learn from them, but the act of rebellion against God, the choice to wander from the path of righteousness, is a burden that each wayward soul must bear.
This does not mean we relinquish our role in reaching out or diminish our passion for restoration. Rather, it is a call to humility, recognizing the limits of our influence and the sovereignty of God in the human heart. Our task is to remain steadfast in our love and commitment to those who stray, offering the hope of the Gospel consistently and compassionately. Then, when someone chooses a different path, it is not necessarily a reflection of our failure; it is a tragic exercise of their free will.
In this, we find our encouragement: that our worth and our success are not tied to the outcomes of our endeavors. We are not the saviors; we are simply messengers of the Savior. We can rest in the assurance that we have done what we were called to do, and trust God with the results. For in the end, it is He who is at work, calling the lost home, and it is He who will ultimately restore all things unto Himself.
Conclusion
The journey of faith is fraught with the risk of wandering, and yet, it is equally ripe with the promise of return for those who see the light. We stand today at the crossroads of complacency and compassion, of indifference and intervention. Let the message of James resonate within us, stirring us to action—not merely to be observers of the wayward walk, but to be instruments in the sacred act of restoration.
If we claim to love as Christ loved us, then let that love propel us from our seats into the lives of those who have lost their way. Let us reach out with hands of grace, with words soaked in mercy, with actions that speak louder than the clanging gongs of judgment. Let us be the community that mirrors the early church in its fervency to seek and save the lost.
And to you, who may be wandering, to you who feel far from home, hear this invitation: Come back home. Remember the embrace of the Father in the story of the prodigal son. His love never waned; His eyes never ceased to search the horizon for your return. There is no chasm too deep, no journey too far that His love cannot reach you. In His arms, there is forgiveness. In His presence, there is fullness of joy.
You may have wandered for reasons known or unknown, through valleys of shadows or deserts of despair, but the Father’s house is open. The table is set. There is a place reserved for you. Your return is not met with scorn but with celebration. Your repentance sparks joy in the heavens.
Let us, as a church, as a family, extend that same heart to every wanderer. Let us be the beacon that guides them back to the harbor of God’s love. And as we do, let us remember that in the grand narrative of redemption, we are not just inviting wanderers back to a building or a community. We are inviting them back to the very heart of God, to the one who calls them beloved, to the one whose grace is sufficient, whose mercy is new every morning.
So, come home. Come back to the love that never fails, to the arms that are always open. Come back to where you belong. You are missed. You are wanted. You are loved. Come home.