You know that feeling when a trip comes to an end—half joy, half ache? That quiet pause when the adventure is over, and you’re about to leave behind the places and people that touched you? That’s what I call melancholy travel.
I love travel. Really, I do. The new sights, the challenge of unfamiliar streets, the faces you’ve never met before—they awaken something in me. But if I’m honest, I could do without the journey itself: airports, waiting rooms, luggage, sitting endlessly. If only the Star Trek transporter were real. Beam me up, and I’m there.
Then come the goodbyes—the bittersweet moments that sneak in quietly, the ones that remind you the people and places you’ve met and befriended may not cross your path again. That’s the heart of melancholy travel.
While traveling, I would often say, “I hope our paths cross again.” I meant it. It was more than polite words; it was a hope born from recognizing the divine serendipity that brought us together—and the reality that it may never happen again.
It reminds me of Jesus passing through Samaria (John 4:4). Jews avoided traveling through Samaria, yet Jesus intentionally chose that route. The result? A transformative encounter with a Samaritan woman at a well—one conversation that changed her life and her community (John 4:7–42). One meeting, eternal impact. No follow-up, no second tour. Just a single moment that mattered.
That’s the thing about travel—and about life. Every encounter carries weight. Every goodbye holds unspoken significance. There’s always a “last time,” even if we don’t recognize it in the moment. Maybe that’s why my handshakes linger a little longer, my hugs feel a little warmer, my goodbyes last just a touch too long.
My hope—my prayer—is that I leave behind something good: a spark of kindness, a trace of peace, a whisper of grace. A kind of spiritual fragrance that points to Jesus, rather than myself (2 Corinthians 2:15).
So maybe melancholy travel isn’t a sadness to escape. Maybe it’s a gentle reminder: to be present, to savor each fleeting encounter, and to leave something beautiful behind, no matter how brief the moment.
Categories: Acts17seventeen Christian Christianity Community Follower Of Jesus Prayer Travel
Pastor Mark
Mark, the eighth of nine children born to Reuben and Henrietta Meeks—dedicated church planters with nearly 30 congregations established across California’s Central Valley—is a preacher's kid who grew up immersed in faith and service. With over forty years of experience teaching, discipling, and ministering to communities, including the hospitalized and incarcerated, Mark responded to God's call to pastoral ministry. He holds degrees in civil engineering and public administration, as well as a Master’s in Theology from Fuller Seminary, equipping him to serve with both practical insight and spiritual depth.
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