Reflections from The Curious Pilgrim
I have reached the last page of Jim Forest’s The Road to Emmaus: Pilgrimage as a Way of Life. It ends with “A Prayer for Pilgrims.”
After reading and reflecting on the journey, I find myself invited to pray—and then to keep walking.
One sentence in the prayer stays with me:
“Travel also with me and gladden my heart with your presence.”
There is something tender about that request. Walk with me, Lord. Let me become aware that you are here.
As I close this book, I realize how much that prayer expresses what I desire for my own life.
Recognizing the Companion
The disciples on the road to Emmaus were carrying grief, confusion, and disappointed hopes. Jesus came alongside them, but they did not recognize him at first. Recognition came later, at the table, in the breaking of bread. Then they looked back and understood something about what had happened along the road.
I find hope in that.
There have been times when I could not understand where my life was going. I have walked through loss, changes in direction, questions about faith, and seasons when I struggled to find my footing.
Looking back, I can recognize moments of grace that I could not name while I was living them: someone who listened, a kindness I had not expected, strength to take the next step, an invitation to begin again.
That does not explain every sorrow. Some wounds still bring tears. Yet I can give thanks for the love that sustained me along the way.
Perhaps part of becoming a pilgrim is learning to pay attention to that companionship.
Bringing My Plans to God
The closing prayer also brings the pilgrim’s plans and expectations before God.
I have those, too. There are things I hope to write, relationships I want to nurture, places I would like to visit, and work I still feel called to do.
But my life has taught me that a journey can change.
Sometimes a door closes. Sometimes a responsibility asks us to stay where we are. Sometimes an interruption becomes the beginning of something we could never have planned.
I am still learning how to hold my hopes with open hands. I can bring them honestly to God while allowing room for guidance, correction, and surprise.
My rule of life comes to mind: Open heart. Open hands. Clear boundaries.
Those words give me a way to walk. They remind me to remain receptive, to loosen my grip, and to care for the life entrusted to me.
Eyes to See Along the Way
The prayer asks for help seeing the beauty of creation and recognizing God’s truth in all things.
That feels close to the heart of The Curious Pilgrim.
At Sequiota Park, on a familiar path, in the stillness of prayer, or during a conversation with someone I love, I am learning to pause. There is more here than I sometimes notice.
A sunrise deserves my attention. So does the person beside me. So does the grief I would rather hurry past.
Pilgrimage invites me to be present to the place where I am standing and to the people whose paths cross mine. There is grace to receive here. There is love to practice here.
Still Walking
I am grateful for what this book has helped me notice and for the questions it has encouraged me to carry.
I close it with a prayer of my own:
Lord Jesus, walk with me through the ordinary hours of this day. Help me recognize your presence, receive the kindness of others, and offer kindness in return. Give me courage when the road is difficult and eyes to notice its beauty. Hold my hopes in your love, and guide my next step. Amen.
I have finished the book, but I am still learning to recognize the One who walks beside me.
—Roy
The Curious Pilgrim
Inspired by “A Prayer for Pilgrims,” the closing page of Jim Forest’s The Road to Emmaus: Pilgrimage as a Way of Life (Orbis Books).
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