We walk these strange and familiar
Streets of faith and hope,
Roads strewn with the debris of
The false hopes and discarded burdens
Of those who have walked before us.
Heading towards the Promised Land,
Towards that Garden City
Of colour, light and meaning,
Passing through the stretches
Of scrubland wilderness,
Those places of emptiness
Where the clutter and distractions
Where the walking is not so easy,
The footsteps heavy with trudgery.
Then on towards Jerusalem,
The home of death and resurrection,
Shouldering through those busy streets,
Often walking against the crowd,
Against the popular flow.
Towards the garden of night and wrestling,
And the fierce hill of sacrifice,
Then, our eyes bleary from the trek,
We stumble into the garden of a new dawn
And a grave cracked open,
Resurrected light pouring from it.
And on towards a place called Emmaus,
Meeting those unexpected strangers
As they walk alongside us,
Their steps in time with ours for a moment
As they bring God into our lives.
For some – a road to Damascus,
Eyes blinded and opened by grace.
After many adventures,
Many long days of walking,
Many questions, discoveries and wonderings,
That Garden City rises before us.
Beautiful in its splendour,
Wondrous and utterly satisfying,
The fullness of life.
The journey finished.
With thanks to Dave Hase for this idea