Exiting the train station in New York City, I love being enveloped by the sounds of the city. Cars, buses, sirens, musicians, one-sided Bluetooth conversations, jackhammers, wind — there is an energy in all of it that is unmatched. But my excitement at the energy of the city always wears off eventually, and I’m left longing for some quiet, some stillness, maybe even a little darkness to rest my eyes.
My internal dialogue can mimic the cacophony of the city. At any given moment my brain is trying to pull me in multiple directions: things I need to do as a parent, as a pastor, as a substitute teacher, as a writer, as a friend, as a person with a home to keep. STOP! I want to shout as my thoughts become overwhelming. I’ve found that writing is an effective way for me to quiet the noise, whether that’s writing to-do lists or pages of reflective prose.
In fact, I’ve found that writing enables me to take a spiritual pilgrimage just about anywhere I find myself. A pilgrimage is a movement that brings us closer to the divine so that we might experience the holy in a deeper way. We most often think of this as physical movement through space to a place set apart from other places, a place where one goes to encounter God, but a pilgrimage also happens when we move through the mundane of our lives. A pilgrimage is a personal journey that seeks growth. Writing does this for me. It allows me to dive into the depths of discernment, setting aside niceties and expectations to access honesty. It allows me to quiet my mind, order my thoughts and listen for God.
When I am in a season of discernment, I will often find myself frustrated, and that is when I sit down with my pen and journal and get the words out on the page. This was particularly true as I discerned, and doubted, my call to ministry. It was true again when I worked through the grief of fertility challenges and pregnancy loss. Writing has carried me through leaving churches and accepting new calls. It even held a central place in discerning the end of my marriage.
Writing takes me on a pilgrimage by granting me space to sort through overwhelming thoughts. I am invited to go deeper, and the deeper I go, the more honest I become with myself. The more honest I become with myself, the more open I become to bringing all of who I am before God. When I come before God as my honest and vulnerable self, I am transformed. It is there that I remember to listen, to pay attention to what I “hear.”
We cannot keep the overpowering noise of life at bay forever, but there are those sacred moments when we can. And in those moments, we can be present. We are programmed to look for the big moments, the big trips, the holy places. Yet we so often miss the thousands of tiny sacred moments in our days and our lives that are carrying us along, taking us deeper on our journey as we strive to our lives as Jesus has called us. We can encounter the divine on the page as we write or as we walk to the mailbox. Pilgrimage can be an everyday practice of our hearts if we pause to notice.
