Last week, traveling across the country with my grandson, I was inspired by the large, open spaces of the American West. From the prairies of West Texas to the mountain ranges rising from desert sands, and finally to the Pacific Ocean, the land seemed to speak. It called to me: Live large. Breathe deep. Step beyond what you know. What began as a road trip became something much more for me: a moment of awakening.
It made me reflect on my own life. I have often and for too long lived small, confined in the narrow spaces of my own making. Too often, we settle into routines that become ruts. We shrink our world down to what’s manageable, familiar, and safe. But the truth is, we were made for more than the comfortable, familiar, and confining places. We were created for the broad places—where vision expands, where faith stretches, and where courage finds its voice.
As I looked out the window at the passing open landscape, I was reminded of the words of the Psalmist: “You have set my feet in a broad place.” The psalmist wrote those words after enduring hardship—after feeling hemmed in by troubles and concerns. Perhaps he was remembering the bondage of Egypt when Israel endured slavery. But then came a new realization… freedom. Space. Possibility. “The Lord has set my feet in a broad place.”
Yes, the broad place. Those words became my own. I will be the first to confess that I’ve often allowed outward pressures and inward fears to confine me. Fears disguised as responsibilities. Expectations masked as tradition. It’s not that those things were bad or wrong—they shaped me, yes—but they no longer define me. They don’t get to fence in the future.
I suppose conformity has its place in our formation. But sooner or later it is up to us to choose our path. We can remain tethered to the customs and traditions that shaped us or learn and grow in the broad places.
Don’t get me wrong, I am forever grateful for the traditions and influences that have shaped my life. I will make the best of those traditions and discard any custom or belief that inhibits the spaciousness of the broad place where God has set my feet. The earlier traditions certainly influenced me but they do not define me nor will they confine me. I stand with the Psalmist in a broad place.
Maybe we have to go through the narrow canyons of life and faith to fully appreciate the wide open spaces. I suppose some people’s experience of life and God narrows with the passing years. It is so easy to play it safe and settle for what is comfortable. If we are not careful, we grow rigid and defensive.
All I can tell you is that as we rode through the broad and open land of the American West I made a new resolution. I refuse to allow fear or someone else’s opinion to imprison me. I will learn to be true to my deepest sense of self. I will love and live as someone who has glanced at the beauty and vastness of the wide open spaces.
Something like a prayer welled up in me. I silently prayed-“By your grace, dear God, I will yet learn to live into the fullness of my own life and I will help others do the same.“
So I will sing and pray my way into the open spaces. I will play and create in ways that celebrate the broad place. I say yes again—to joy, to risk, to a love that is deeper and wider than any of us could fully know. I say yes to living freely in a broad place. Not bound by fear. Not dictated by old scripts. Anchored in grace and stretching toward something more.
E. Stanley Jones once said that he was anchored to Christ and free in all else. That’s the kind of faith and life that found a broad place. I stand with Jones and the Psalmist, anchored to Christ and free in all else because the Lord has placed my feet in a broad place.
So here’s to wide-open spaces. To sacred detours. To the journey of becoming.
I hope you will join me—there’s plenty of room.
EnSpirit 