Two miles into my first 10K race, and I was crying. It wasn’t the race itself. I had run 6.2 miles in training, but the route took me past the funeral home where I had last seen our 5-week-old daughter. Although that casket had closed 25 years before, I still choked up.

Forty minutes later, I was in tears again. This time, they were tears of rejoicing. A 55-year-old non-athlete, who had been running for three months, had just finished a race—and had completed a personal spiritual pilgrimage that clarified decades of God’s work in my life.

When I went to Nepal recently, pilgrimage was one option on the visa application we completed when entering the country, along with tourism and business. The country is full of shrines and sacred mountains. I was tempted to check that box. I thought, “What could be a more holy journey than to go where God works on the doorstep of other shrines?”

I checked tourism. Spiritual pilgrimages are not well understood in my church circle, but this conversation might help.

For a Christ follower, a spiritual pilgrimage is an intentional journey that reminds us that God is God.

There is purpose in pilgrimage. We have daily signs of God’s work, but a person on a pilgrimage is setting out to find God. There is always movement in a pilgrimage, going from here to there. Sometimes it’s a geographic journey such as my race. Sometimes it’s a chronological journey through hours or weeks set aside for growth, and the focus of pilgrimage is not the journey but God.

A six-week period in Elijah’s life gives us a model of spiritual pilgrimage. After experiencing God’s power in defeating the prophets of Baal, Elijah ran from Jezebel to the wilderness. He was ready to die, but after a conversation—and a couple meals—with an angel, Elijah set out for Mount Horeb, the mountain where Moses and God had talked. His travel had moved from flight to a 40-day pilgrimage. At that mountain, Elijah was reminded by God that God is God.

Not all spiritual pilgrimages are that dramatic or come when we are ready to die in despair, but many of us would benefit from taking a journey in which an awareness of God’s presence and work are the goal.

I’ve found three significant experiences of spiritual pilgrimage.

The journey can remind us that God is God by taking us back to a time or place we knew God well.

When Joshua and the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, Joshua had one man from each tribe pick up a rock from the middle of the river. On the west bank of the river, Joshua had the men pile the rocks together.

These stones weren’t pebbles or fist-sized. They were as big as wilderness-toughened soldiers could carry on one shoulder. The pile was large enough that young Israelites travelling with their parents to visit relatives would see the pile and say, “What’s with the rocks?” Then parents would tell the story of how these river rocks ended up on the bank. They would say, “The flow of the Jordan River was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord” (Josh. 4:7, NIV).

Parents tell the story of their marriage when visiting the town where they met. Youth leaders take students to the retreat grounds where they first heard God’s call to service. Those pilgrimages allow the adults to review the story of God’s work, to be reminded that God has been involved for a long time.

A couple years ago, my wife, daughter and I visited a camp in Northern Michigan. During my early teens, I grew in faith and ministry there: my first counselor role, first time on a work crew, first extended time away from family, first arguments about eschatology and Bible translations.

We found the old camp registry on a shelf in a back room. Seeing my name and the names of my friends from 40 years before was a powerful reminder that I had been with God in this place.

I brought back a rock from the woods at that camp. It’s my own version of an altar.

The journey can remind us that God is God through a routine that draws us back into God’s story.

We know the story of Jesus getting separated when His family went to Jerusalem during Passover. In our lessons about teenagers, negligent parents and Jesus’ identity, it’s easy to miss the fact that every year, His parents went to Jerusalem for Passover.

Every year, faithful people took a couple weeks and camped for three or four nights on the way to and from Jerusalem.

Every year by a campfire, they told stories of Ruth, Esther and Daniel, the same ones we tell.

Every year, they sang the worship songs we refer to as Psalms 120—133.

Every year in Jerusalem, they lived out the story of the angel of God passing over the houses of the Jews and delivering them from the Egyptians.

Jesus grew up in a culture of annual spiritual pilgrimages because God invited His people to His feasts to live out the stories of His power and deliverance.

Passover wasn’t the only story. For the Feast of Tabernacles, God’s people built little huts with palm branches and sticks. They slept outside for a week. They shared food and celebrated. The week reminded families the journey to the Promised Land included 40 years of tent-living, and it was a feast because God had brought His people from tents to houses.

Centuries after the wilderness years, when Nehemiah and the people rebuilt the walls around Jerusalem, the first feast they celebrated was the Feast of Tabernacles. It reminded them of the century of exile they had endured away from home. Nehemiah says there was so much excitement in this celebration that it was the best party since Joshua led the people into the Promised Land.

National cultures foster many pilgrimages. On the Fourth of July, Americans journey to lakes and tell the stories of national independence. On Black Friday, we journey to malls and return home to tell stories of the great deals we got. On Mother’s Day, we journey to Mom’s house (or grave) and remember her love (or the love we wish she’d had). All of these modern journeys miss the power of spiritual pilgrimages to remind us that God is God.

There are several routine spiritual pilgrimages available to us:

• Advent and Lent allow us to spend time preparing for Christmas and Easter.
• The Stations of the Cross remind us of Christ’s suffering. Walking from window to window in a cathedral can take us a step at a time through the stories.
• Daily gatherings during Holy Week to read and reflect on Palm Sunday, the preaching in the temple, the last supper, Good Friday and Easter take us into the story of God’s great work.

A journey can remind us that God is God by taking us back to painful places to experience God’s forgiveness and peace.

After the resurrection, Peter was stuck. Before Jesus, he knew what to do with his time. Then Jesus told him what to do for three years. Afterward, he found himself in an unfamiliar paralysis. Finally, he decided to return to his nets, the last time in his life when he was in charge. Jesus met him, restored him, and commissioned him for the next part of his life.

Journeys to the places where and moments when we have struggled in ministry and in life are difficult pilgrimages, but in those moments we can be reminded that God is God.

Which takes me back to my race…

The route of my first 10K went past more than the funeral home. I ran past the house where our daughter died and where our other two children first lived. I ran past the college campus where I first taught. We left that campus when my job disappeared. I ran past the church where God allowed great rejoicing and struggle. We were people in need of healing when we first attended. Eventually, I entered pastoral ministry there, and nearly eight years later we left that church and found another remarkable place after another guy was chosen as senior pastor. I ran streets where Nancy and I had walked, worried, rejoiced and then moved.

The route of my first 10K was a review of the highs and lows of my adult life and ministry. By the end of the race, I knew God had given me strength to run this race, yes; but God also had given me strength to run through the past 30 years.

Yet that wasn’t the end of that route as a spiritual pilgrimage.

The year after the 10K, I ran my first half-marathon on a longer version of the same course. It felt different this time—more than twice as long for sure—but because of the healing of the previous pilgrimage, this time was not as emotionally challenging. I was able to run with a friend for the first part and rejoice. Then I struggled through the last part as a reminder that I still need training—and God’s presence.

I’m going back to the same route for a marathon next time as a reminder that journeys which remind us that God is God often equip us for more challenges and harder work…and deeper blessing.

Jon Swanson holds a Ph.D. in rhetorical criticism, 16 years as an executive pastor, and a half-marathon personal best of 2:20 at age 56. He’s probably most excited about the latter. Jon and his wife, Nancy, have two married adult children. Five days a week, he writes about following Jesus at 300WordsADay.com.