Acts 28:30, 31  For the next two years, Paul lived in Rome at his own expense. He welcomed all who visited him, boldly proclaiming the Kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ. And no one tried to stop him. (NLT)

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Paul’s freedom to roam was restricted. He had lived on the road and on the sea for many years. He expertly navigated the Roman world. Morning sunrises and evening sunsets on the water were golden times of prayer reflecting on the beauty of the moment and the promise of the coming hours and days.

There is a rhythm to travel that gets in your bones. Going places, seeing things, hearing new languages and dialects stir a soul. Languages you are only beginning to understand include subtleties of pronunciation you begin to include in your own greetings and expressions of gratitude.

Mountain vistas and coastal plains, villages and towns, cities and metropolitan expanse each hold their charm. A small house at the center of the world had its benefits. It also held limitations. As long as it took him to get there, as perilous as the journey was, as urgent as was his case, the call of a seagull could lead his prayers toward the next adventure. Spain sounded better and better. 

Paul was running out of time, but he wasn’t dead yet. Private security was good. The hurry and hustle of his neighborhood by day, and the strolling couples by night, provided a calm he had not long known for many years. 

One last run, one last voyage, one last long walk, that’s what he dreamed of by night and by day. Places to go, people to see, things to do, and all for the glory of God. So why was he stuck in Rome? 

Two more years, and then what? 

Had he run his last race? 

No one tells you it’s your last time without breaking your heart. Paul had one last great adventure. Along his many journeys, he found something worth keeping, something worth more than anything he had otherwise discovered. That, he would keep to the end, and beyond. (See 1 Timothy 6:11 and following along with 2 Timothy 4.)

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I will live with holy anticipation. 

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Our Father, thank you for the runs, the journeys, the sights, sounds, and tastes of this big old world. Thank you for what lies behind, around, and ahead. Today, as always, show me the way I should go. Amen.