There’s something about travel.
Maybe it’s the movement itself—the hum of tires on pavement or the steady rhythm of footsteps on a forest trail. Or maybe it’s what travel does to us: the way it loosens our grip on routine, clears the static, and makes space for something deeper to emerge. I’ve come to believe that travel, when done with intention, doesn’t just take us somewhere. It changes who we are when we arrive.
Leaving the Familiar
When you step away from your regular schedule—your inbox, your morning coffee ritual, your predictable routes to work or school—something disorients you in the best way. Your usual patterns don’t fit the new place. You have to ask questions again. You become a student of the world instead of its director.
Jesus did much of His teaching on the road—through dusty villages, across windswept hillsides, aboard creaking boats. It wasn’t just the content of His words that shaped His followers; it was the way of life that came with walking beside Him. There’s a first-century Jewish blessing that says, “May you be covered by the dust of your Rabbi.” The phrase paints a vivid picture: a disciple following so closely behind their rabbi on dusty roads that the dust kicked up literally covers them.
The disciples didn’t just listen to Jesus in a classroom. They lived life with Him. There was proximity. Intimacy. Jesus called us to follow Him—to walk in His dust and be transformed.
Travel Exposes the Soul
One thing I’ve learned on trips is that people can’t hide when they travel. You get to know your companions quickly—who’s patient during airport delays, who throws caution to the wind, who wants to control the day’s agenda, who gets irritable when they haven’t eaten. But more importantly, you get to know yourself.
I’ve had moments where a breathtaking view reminded me how rarely I pause to wonder. I’ve snapped at someone I love after falling behind schedule—only to realize my frustration wasn’t about the time, but about feeling out of control. Travel brings the inner life to the surface. And that’s where God meets us—not in the curated version of ourselves, but in the raw, unguarded spaces that the road reveals.
Spiritual Growth Needs Disruption
Our souls, like our bodies, get used to comfort. We settle into spiritual autopilot—repeating the same prayers, thinking the same thoughts, replaying the same doubts. But growth needs disruption. Not chaos—just intentional interruption. Travel provides that.
In Smarter Faster Better, Charles Duhigg describes the work of ecologist Joseph Connell, who found that small disturbances in ecosystems—like a tree falling or a wave removing coral—can actually increase biodiversity. These disruptions create space for new life to thrive and prevent dominant organisms from monopolizing resources. Connell’s work showed that a moderate level of disruption leads to greater ecological resilience. The same is true for the soul.
A new place disrupts the patterns that keep us from seeing clearly. It breaks up the monopolies of thought that crowd our minds. It reminds us we’re not the center of the universe. It humbles our timelines and plans. And it opens us to dependence—on God, on others, on grace.
One prayer I’m beginning to incorporate into every journey is this: Lord, help me be interruptible. Because that’s often where the real growth begins—in the missed train, the awkward conversation, the wrong turn that leads us somewhere better than we planned.
Walking With Others
We weren’t meant to walk alone. That’s one of the core truths I want to live out at The Road & The Way. The road itself matters—but the people you walk it with shape the journey as much as the destination.
Some of the most meaningful moments in travel don’t happen at the big landmarks. They happen over shared meals, long car rides, and late-night talks around a fire.
Travel gives us that—if we let it. It peels back the layers. It invites vulnerability. And it fosters connection, not in spite of our differences, but often because of them.
The Way Is the Point
In John 14:6, Jesus doesn’t just say He knows the way. He says He is the Way. That distinction matters. It means that travel, at its best, isn’t about crossing things off a list or even “finding yourself.” It’s about walking with the One who is the Way—learning His rhythms, hearing His voice in unfamiliar places, and letting Him reorient your heart.
At The Road & The Way, we don’t take trips to escape life. We take them to encounter it more fully. We believe spiritual growth isn’t reserved for churches or quiet times—it can be found in a hike through the mountains, a whispered prayer in an Irish abbey, or a shared laugh in a roadside diner.
The road is the setting. The Way is the point.
And maybe—just maybe—the next step you take isn’t just a travel plan. It’s an invitation into transformation.
