Dave Dishman

Those of us who walk the Camino de Santiago do so for a variety of reasons. Many people I’ve met along the way love the outdoors. For them, the Camino makes for an enjoyable holiday. Groups of young Spaniards trek during their final week of classes. You can hear them coming, laughing and talking, then bouncing past us older folks with a cheery Buen Camino!

Many pilgrims walk for what is called along the trail religious reasons. Some walk with incurable diseases, including cancer, this journey one of their last adventures in this life. Others walk in memory of loved ones who’ve passed away, like the young man from South America we met walking in honor of his grandmother.

The core of pilgrims walk in order to know the Lord in a clearer and deeper way. Hoping for clarity in life, or praying for needs, or simply communing with their Maker, these walk with a sense of purpose. My wife and I aim the groups we lead in this direction. I walk praying and looking to the Lord for wisdom.

I like to dwell on a particular verse during my week of walking. This year I’m holding to these words from Isaiah: Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and will not be faint.

Isaiah’s promise applies to this week (including a 15 mile day), but also to my journey through life. The Lord renews me if I lean into him. The physicality of walking day after day reminds me of where my strength originates and where my hope resides. What do I seek on this Camino? To connect in a fresh way with the One not only revives the weary but also lifts us on wings.

Isaiah 40:31

Photo by pilgrim Karen Hausman

I don’t walk much in my day-to-day. I live in a suburb of a larger city, and I accomplish most of the activities in my life with an automobile. I go to the grocery store, travel to my office, attend church, or dine out only after I get in my car and drive somewhere. I’m a professional driver and an amateur walker.

But I like to walk. I enjoy an evening stroll or a long walk in the morning. I might listen to a book when I walk, or simply amble along and think. I possess introverted tendencies. Walking energizes me in a way like no other.

Which is one reason I’m enjoying this week on the Camino de Santiago. Walking from cool mornings into warm afternoons with only a stop for a meal or to rotate my socks. The action is gracious and healing.

Jesus walked with his disciples as he taught them lessons about the kingdom of God. Perhaps this reality points to something deeper. Maybe walking is the best way to ingest and consider God’s words. Certainly it’s better than attempting to do so while cursing in traffic.

Jesus called his first disciples and immediately they started walking from village to village: Jesus went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people.

As I walk from village to village here in Spain I appreciate that I’m on a trail trodden by followers of Jesus for over a millennium. I also appreciate that I’m performing this simplest of acts that yields the deepest of results—the soul forming act of walking.

Matthew 4:23

Photo by pilgrim Rebecca Fussell

The rolling hills of Northern Spain do my heart good. The path rises and falls through heights covered in forests and dotted with farms. I dodge dairy cattle as farmers move them from field to barn and back again. This countryside is one reason pilgrims adopted Psalm 121 as the Pilgrim’s Psalm:

I will raise my eyes to the hills; From where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who watches over you will not slumber. Behold, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your protector; The Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun will not beat down on you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul. The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time and forever.

All sorts of people walk to Santiago through uncertain conditions. Some take months, while others (like myself) spend a week or so on the trail. As I trudge up and down these Spanish hills under both sun and rain, I enjoy the Lord’s creation, and revel in his goodness for placing me here on this very day.

Just like I meander on this trek, I also wander through life. In the midst, the Lord keeps my feet steady. He remains my keeper, my shade, my bodyguard, and the giver of life. I raise my eyes to the hills, knowing that my help comes from the maker of all heights, from our magnificent God who neither slumbers nor sleeps.

Psalm 121

Photo: Fields along the Camino by pilgrim David Dishman

My wife and I are in Europe, preparing once again to walk the Camino de Santiago.

The Camino de Santiago is an ancient path across Northern Spain, traveled by Christian pilgrims for over 1,000 years. It’s a thin place in our world, a location where it is somehow easier to gain a sense of the eternal. The prophet Jeremiah wrote, This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.

We’ll walk roughly 70 miles in 6 days, following the final leg of the Camino. Although the distance is long and the walking at times arduous, I do indeed find my soul at rest. There’s something about taking step after step, all day long for several days in a row, with my phone stuffed away in my backpack, that puts my mind and heart in a different place.

You don’t have to travel to Spain to benefit from ancient paths. The Holy Scriptures provide an ancient path, one starkly different from the roadways laid out by modern philosophies and social media chatter. When standing before crossroads, which we seem to arrive at over and over, ask the Lord for the good way, the ancient way, the way that leads to rest for your soul.

Jeremiah 6:16

Photo by former pilgrim David Dishman (my son)