Why I Walk to Church: a Brief Discourse

Most Sunday mornings, if I get ready in time and the weather is conducive to being outdoors, I walk to church. Lest you become impressed with my aerobic fortitude, I need to quickly mention that my walk is not reminiscent of a Waltons episode and I do not have to hike several miles to go to some little brown church in the wildwood; rather, my walk is fairly brief and my path is errant and cracked sidewalk, rather than naked and well-worn earth.

I walk from my apartment, cut through the seminary parking lot, past an Episcopal church, a private girls dormitory, a fraternity house. With the aid of a traffic light, I cross Guadalupe Street and continue for a few blocks or so until I reach the University Presbyterian Church. Assuming I catch the lights at a favorable time and I don’t window shop for too long, this entire jaunt takes approximately 14 minutes.

I absolutely adore walking—in my humble opinion, it’s unfortunate that American society is more automobile oriented than pedestrian. Walking is good for the “soul” (pun not intended). A good-old fashioned perambulation is counter-intuitive in a world where the mantra is “faster is better.” I find that when I am walking, I do not have to pay attention to my route, as one does when one is driving. I can meander and mosey to my heart’s desire, without worrying about running a red light or grazing the bumper of another vehicle.

Another great facet of walking is that it is a perfect excuse to window-gaze and people watch. Guadalupe street happens to be one of the greatest places in the world to people watch. On my way to church, I do not see many people as it is still fairly early and most of the shops, save for a few breakfast-oriented ones, are closed. That’s when I gaze through the windows and marvel and the shiny wares, stylish clothes, outlandish University of Texas themed accoutrements that I would never buy.

On the way home from church, however, the sleepy street turns into a bustling thoroughfare. I pass by an outdoor market, where today I saw an evolutionary hold-over from the Summer of Love strumming an acoustic guitar, peddling jewelry and tie-dyed t-shirts. I pass by families—most likely University Texas Dynasties where the parents anxiously await the day when their offspring will matriculate into the collegiate behemoth. You can tell where their loyalty lies by their burnt orange and white apparel.

And for every UT Dynastic family, there are hippies; for every pony-tailed sorority girl, there is a homeless street urchin; for every marauding church-goer, there are cynics and atheists. There are Baptists, Presbyterians, Scientologists, rich people, poor people, college students, young professionals—and not a single person is out of place. Guadalupe is certainly a cross-section of modern American life. No one pays any mind to the garb and actions of others, they just simply slip in and out the eclectic shops, lost in their perspective universes.

Sunday morning walks are more than a voyeuristic sociological experiment; they also serve as my weekly update with God. I like to call it my “Theological Meet the Press,” without the monitoring of Tim Russert, of course. I talk to God and discuss the previous week’s goings on, cares, concerns, and plans for the upcoming day(s). Admittedly, the conversation seems a little one-sided at times, but I am certain that God is listening.

It’s these [sometimes one-sided] conversations that center my heart for worship. Typically, the moment I walk into the choir room at UPC, any tranquility I have obtained is shattered by the fumbling around for folders, hymn sheets, robes, stoles, and last minute liturgical instruction. If I drive to church, I seem to go immediately from rushing to get to church to rushing around in the choir room; how can the Holy Spirit enter in when my thoughts are not centered on Christ? However, if I take the initiative to spend a few extra minutes to walk to church, I seem to construct a force-field around my sub-conscious. Choir chaos ensues, but it doesn’t impede my readiness to worship.

I realize that not everyone has the luxury to walk to church. Some of you may despise walking and all this waxing poetic about my Sunday morning sojourns may be extremely dull for you to read. But the point—the REAL point—is that we all must find those rituals that draw us into the heart of God. What are rituals in your life? Is there a specific action on your behalf that induces a prayerful atmosphere? Some points to ponder as this stressful semester comes to a close.

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On another note: last week of classes—praise Jesus!