Prone to Wander - Colleen Luntzel

"All we like sheep have gone astray, and turned each one to his own way; and The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." Isaiah 53:6


When I was little, the kids in my family had 4-H projects. My brothers kept cattle, my older sister showed horses and my little sisters and I kept sheep. We were responsible for our animals for everything—feeding, watering, grooming, vet-ing, safety and training.

You learn a lot about animals when they’re dependent upon you: what they eat, how to shelter them, what their habits are, the characteristics of the breed and their vulnerabilities. You might think sheep would be easy to care for, but they’re not. They’re stubborn, they’re driven by fear and hunger, and they’re dumb.

Heads down, grazing in a slightly frantic fashion, they often stray—their insatiable appetites driving them to search for something more. Easily frightened, they scatter and flee with no thought about where they’re headed. They just run… blindly crashing into fences… falling into ditches. They’re prone to wander.

You can’t really teach the average sheep to do anything. They’re stubborn. Sheep need to be cared for. They need a shepherd.

The Bible compares God's people with sheep. Personally, I don’t think sheep are the most complimentary thing to be compared to. But the truth is, like sheep, people are stubborn, driven by fear and hunger, and, oh yeah, dumb. We need to be cared for. We need a shepherd—one who understands our weaknesses, our needs, our character.

King David (who kept sheep himself) talked about a shepherd in Psalm 23. Jesus. As Christians, we’re His flock—with all of the needs and vulnerabilities of sheep. But He knows what we require and how to keep us, which is saying something because sheep are not all fluff and softness, springtime and daffodils. Sheep are trouble!

Yet, He loves us—in spite of us. Because of love, He who cast a glance across infinity and created all things out of nothing, somehow forced His unimaginable greatness into mere flesh and blood, and became a shepherd—because His sheep had strayed and were lost and needed finding—because we were stubborn and needed saving. Then, the Creator of the universe, The Good Shepherd, took it a step further, and became a lamb.

Trust the Good Shepherd to take care of you.


Married to a career military man, Colleen raised five children while pulling up stakes and moving her family throughout the U.S. and overseas eighteen times, serving alongside her husband in the diplomatic corps at U.S. Embassies in South Asia and Northern Europe. Life didn’t go exactly as she’d planned but she's had more adventures than any one person should be allowed. God’s plans are not always our plans and He specializes in adventures, using every second of them for His purposes.

Currently, Colleen resides in the mountains of Western NC where she practices interior design, blogs and writes Bible Studies, devotionals, children’s literature and articles on design and beautiful living.

Read Colleen's devotions.

His - Colleen Luntzel

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you…" Jeremiah 1:5

“I know who you are.” The big man stepped out, blocking me. Surprised, I smiled “up” at him. At six foot two, the Soviet General towered over me. Red blotches stood out against his pale damp face. A drop of perspiration trickled down his jaw, lingered, then dropped and disappeared into the tight collar of his uniform.

I opened my purse, pulled out a tissue, dabbed my nose and tried to maneuver around him. “Excuse me, General.”

Glacier blue eyes drilled into me. I shivered. “I know who you are,” he breathed out hatred and vodka.

This isn’t good. Stories about abduction flashed through my mind. The Soviets were notorious for sticking people with drugs, then nabbing them. The victim might surface one day completely insane, or they just might never surface.

Behind me, an orchestra played a waltz. Only seventy-five feet away, three hundred people dined and danced, yet no one entered the hall to distract the large Soviet. I wish I could say that’s when I prayed. But I didn’t—at least not intentionally. A subtle, silent conversation took place none the less.

Don’t be afraid. I am with you.

I started to laugh. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was hysteria. Perhaps it was God. The General’s breathing accelerated. A magenta shadow inched up from under his collar.

“You know who I am? Good! I’m glad someone does!” I giggled, patted his arm, pushed passed him hurrying into the ladies room. I never saw him again.

I never knew what became of the General, but decades later the story still haunts me. Not because it was scary, but because a complete stranger somehow knew who I was. I’m not even sure I know who I am.

I get nervous when people ask me about myself. I know my life story—what I’ve done, where I’ve been—but are those the things that define who I am?

Maybe circumstances in your life have changed. No longer defined by your job, your location, your title, you’ve asked yourself, “Who am I?” and you don’t know the answer. That’s okay. Someone does know. He knows your life story, what you’ve done, and where you’ve been. When all that’s taken away, He knows who you are, and that’s all that matters.


Colleen lives in the Appalachian Mountains of Western North Carolina with her husband of thirty two years and their youngest of five children.