Truth

Mario. There are some people you know you will remember the moment you meet them. Listening to him talk was fun... like playing Mario Brothers on Nintendo 64. Not fun like a Saturday morning cartoon, but the blowing up marshmallow Peeps in the microwave kind of fun. We met in Saint Jean. His colorful rimmed glasses complimented his triangle gages as he gently pushed my hammock while joking with the other pilgrims, effortlessly chattering between Spanish, English, French and some other language. He told us about how he slept on the floor of a castle because an elderly lady gave him the key last night. He told me not to eat all of the cherry plums off the trees. He teased us for being Californian. He made me want to be like him. To connect with people in a way that digs deeper than forcing depth. I believe if we seek authenticity, the depth will come in time.

My mindset of the Camino is slowly changing from "getting up in the morning to walk" to the walking actually becoming a lifestyle. I used to think that "the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6) was choosing to walk on the right path, but I am starting to understand that the "way" isn't just a path we take, but the lifestyle we adopt. The "truth" isn't just a moral to develop, but an all-encompassing life change. One of my favorite things about the Camino is the yellow arrows that mark the path. Sometimes they are etched into concrete or spray painted on the back of street signs. But they are always visible. They are easy to follow in the country, but as soon as the path approaches a town, there are countless other distractions of other colored arrows marking different paths and false yellow arrows advertising directions to a hostel or tourist shops. If I only followed someone else's description of the arrow, I would be lost, but I'm so familiar with the right arrow because I have been following it closely and relying on it to guide me that anything false just falls away. That's how I want to translate living IN "the way, the truth, and the life..." to have the truth so engrained in me that it leaks out into all my conscious and unconscious thoughts and decisions. I believe that's the true life Jesus was talking about, because "then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (John 8:32).

My friend encouraged me to pick a word to represent where I want to be by the end of the trip. My word was "solidity." I wanted to work on solidifying my faith in Christ, being solid in what I believe, in health and life and relationships. But this morning I was reading in Matthew about how Jesus walked more humbly than I ever have... and ever could. Every day on this trip I walk to a secure hostel with an assured meal and safety when there was no room for Jesus to even be born in a building. As much as I love and completely support the idea of meditating on a word for five weeks, I've realized that it is impossible for me to ever be solid. I cannot work hard enough to find solidity in Christ or what I believe. Christ gives it. It's not about me at all. It is not about a deep concept or an epiphany I could get while walking. It's not about some spiritual experience or a sudden realization. It's about His grace filling my frailness, and I will just continue to live incomplete and unforgiven if I continue to think I can do anything to gain my security. It's about dying to myself because Christ died in my place and it's about living life as best as I can to reciprocate a fraction of my thankfulness for second chances. It's the fact that I will continually be flawed without His grace. His amazing grace. His mind blowing astoundingly beautiful grace. It's like seeing the dirt in the bottom of the shower after hiking 18 miles and two bars of soap. So, if I could choose a word, it wouldn't be "solidity," but "I-only-live-in-the-grace-through-Jesus-that-I-need-more-than-oxygen," or it wouldn't even be a word at all. It would be falling face flat on the dirt road overwhelmed by how much my perfect, holy God suffered for someone as flawed as me.