In January of this year I spent three weeks of my annual leave pushing a bicycle 1,500 kilometres around the South Island of New Zealand. While I enjoy long bicycle journeys, I recognize that this would definitely not be everybody’s cup of tea, just as playing croquet would not be everybody’s cup of tea. Why, then, write about something that not many people participate in? The answer is that for me cycling is an activity that connects me with people and connects me with God, hence it has much in common with favourite activities that other Christians engage in that have similar benefits; strolling around the streets or the bush perhaps, maybe a round of golf? I write because it, hopefully, encourages people to reflect on their own experiences and share them with others on life’s journey.

Each long cycling journey I go on has its unique blessings. For instance, on my journey from Dublin to Jerusalem in 1998, I had the great privilege of experiencing the wonderful hospitality of the village dwellers in the Syrian Desert, an experience that challenged me to reflect on my stereotypes about Syrians, a matter that had caused me such anxiety with regard to entering the country.

The New Zealand journey, too, had its unique blessings, and they began before I had turned a pedal in New Zealand. A conversation after one of my slide presentations about my Jerusalem journey resulted in two young people accompanying on the New Zealand ride. I had the privilege of getting to know these young people over several months as we trained on the hills of the Blue Mountains to prepare ourselves for the long climbs we would encounter in the New Zealand Alps. The peaceful back roads of the Blue Mountains drained our energies, but nurtured our spirits as we shared our hopes and fears of the coming journey. These conversations often broadened out into the journey that life itself was presenting to us. Sharing a common challenge created a respect for the effort and commitment we were each putting in and created an atmosphere where we could share our hopes and fears. I felt this to be a special time with these young people and developed a confidence in their personal qualities to undertake and complete this journey and to learn from the experience. As companions on the way they were indeed a blessing. As with many instances in my life, they were people who, I believe, were placed on my path.

I learned on my journey to Jerusalem, that it is not the reaching of the destination that is the most important part of the journey; what is most important is to be open to and to learn from the experiences along the way. It was no different on this journey through New Zealand. Sometimes it was the people we met along the way who provided the experiences that caused us to reflect. The young German, Marco, comes readily to mind. We spent a couple of hours talking with Marco over a meal at the Franz Josef camping ground. Marco divided his time, about equally, between working on a communal farm in California and cycling the world. He had become disillusioned with the corporate world of Germany, where he was employed, and sought to live differently. Marco came home one evening and announced to his parents that he had no intention of continuing any longer in a world that made no sense to him. Marco placed before us the challenge of someone who thought widely and deeply about life, an impressive effort for one so young. Listening to Marco recount his long bicycle journeys through the United States and Europe, I could not help but be impressed at his focus, which was on the human encounters along the way and what he had learned from them. I will look forward to Marco’s visit when he cycles around Australia next year.

Marco was an unusual man, doing unusual things, but it was also in the ordinary that we were challenged to reflect on life. The farm family, who gave us shelter on their property near the Arthurs Pass, comes readily to mind. They offered shelter to complete strangers, when it was sorely needed. We were wet and cold from cycling in heavy rain and low temperatures and were wondering where we could possibly pitch already wet tents in fading daylight. These people were the polar opposite of Marco. They worked hard on a property that had been in the family for generations. The farm demanded much of their time and effort and was in a climate that, for much of the year, was severe. Yet, they were like Marco in that they had a focus on their fellow human beings. The welcome this family gave was not lost on the strangers they welcomed and sheltered.

What I have been talking about could be described as ‘God filled time’. Time where we were led to think about our faith in terms of the life led by people whose paths we had crossed. Also, being in each other’s company was often God filled time. Whether that was enjoying a relax and conversation after an evening meal and a long ride, or encouraging one another up the long climbs across the alps, there were many occasions on this ride to appreciate the commitment we had to one another, so necessary on a long bicycle journey. I found this to be one of the most satisfying experiences of this journey.

God filled time is not limited to seeing God in the actions of people. On this journey there were the times where I was aware of the ‘fourth presence’. Sometimes it is in the tough situations of life that we are most aware of the presence of God. Cycling is no different as far as I am concerned. When we stopped at our campsite, after pushing into strong headwinds for the last forty kilometers into Queenstown, I remarked to my companions that I was aware of the power of God all around me. I t took all my energies to struggle such a tiny distance into this wind, a force brought into being by the power of God. But as this wind rushed around me, it was not an alien force, but a reminder that the power of God is also evident in the love of God that also surrounds me. I imagined myself as a tiny speck moving slowly across the landscape, surrounded by the power of God and the love of God. I arrived in Queenstown physically spent, but spiritually buoyant. Sometimes it is the tough times that bring us those flashes of insight, that sense of the ‘fourth presence’ on the journey. Also, how encouraging it was to be able to relate this to companions who understood what I was saying. At other times on this journey, cycling the quiet back roads on the long flat Canterbury Plains was like entering the ‘silence of eternity’: the kilometers and hours passed by virtually unnoticed, the consistent rhythmic motion of pedaling bringing about a relaxing of body and mind.

So, what did this journey mean for me? It meant going into a journey and a time where there was little structure and just patiently letting those moments of Grace creep up on me, allowing myself to be surprised by Grace. It meant using those relaxing times at the end of the day to reflect on the happenings of the day and to be thankful for the learning that took place. It meant being thankful for my two companions and the people who crossed my path who added to that learning. Above all, it meant being thankful for the fourth person on the journey, who Gospel and Spirit bound us together in a commitment that made the journey one of great enjoyment as well as one of great enrichment and discovery.

My hope and prayer is that life back home be a continuation of the New Zealand journey and that I continue to through life in that quiet manner that allows moments of Grace to creep up and surprise me.

This story first appeared in Grevillea, an e-magazine produced by Chris Walker, Mission Resource Officer for the Parramatta Nepean Presbytery of the UCA.