We recently moved to a new home in a new state. I say to myself that we needed a fresh start, a new beginning. While that’s true, I don’t think we ever start completely fresh. We bring with us the experiences and the lessons learned through hard-fought battles, victories won through many tears, strengths gained by learning to stop relying on our own strength to save us. I wouldn’t trade the struggle in for a different story. My story is beautiful. In every chapter, there was purpose. But, that’s not really the point of this story.

One thing I’ve grown to love about our new home is the fence in my backyard. It may sound silly, but I have dogs who, historically, have been prone to wander. They are notorious for finding that one moment when the door isn’t quite closed all the way and they find opportunity to escape and go on an adventure that forces us to comb the neighborhood, worried sick, trying to find them. I used to agonize about this. I beat myself up repeatedly because what responsible dog owner could allow this to happen? Why couldn’t I successfully train my children and my husband to double check the door when they go in or out? Why couldn’t I train my dogs to behave properly? I know I’m not the only one with this problem as I see all of the “lost pet finder posts” on social media. Still, I always felt so guilty when they would pull a fast one and find the one area of weakness and exploit it into an escapade through the neighborhood.

Now, we finally have a fenced in backyard where they can run and play. It’s a gift! Still, I have to watch for the weak spots. Once they tried to dig underneath the fence and only succeeded in coating themselves in red clay dirt. Once, the gate blew open and I found them in the front yard, outside the safety of their perimeter. (At least they didn’t run for it.) Once, after a wind storm, a plank in the fence had broken loose and was leaning over exposing the neighbor’s yard behind us. It was his fence and he repaired it promptly.

The thing about fences is they have to be maintained.

I can be a lot like my dogs. I am prone to wander from the safety and security of a life hidden in Christ. He’s given me everything I need. He is altogether sufficient. Yet, I’m so often like the old hymn describes,

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.”

I’m not talking about fences that keep us captive like a prisoner or walls we’ve built around our hearts to keep others (or even God) out. The fence in my yard protects my dogs. It keeps them safe. It keeps them home so they can have water, food, shelter, provision, and love. It gives them the freedom to run and play and enjoy life, without danger. The fences I build in my spiritual life offer protection for me as well. I have learned that I don’t need anything apart from Christ. My heart is safe with him. When I discipline myself to guard my heart as scripture teaches (Proverbs 4:23), I can safely trust in him.

Fences require maintenance. The planks will sometimes need to be reinforced occasionally like my neighbor’s loose board that broke away. There are gaps that sneak up on us when we’re not paying attention. Lack of attention and maintenance allows decay. My spiritual life will not magically improve without nurture and care. I have learned to be committed and intentional about nurturing my relationship with God. I’m learning to discipline myself to read the Bible consistently, to spend time in prayer, to commune with the Father daily. I’m learning to keep an eye on my fences, to be conscientious about what I watch, what I listen to, what I read. I’m learning to be mindful, to realize when I’m being distracted from the things that actually matter. I’m learning to guard my time, to guard my heart.

A fence can be a beautiful thing.