A WALK OF PROVIDENCE

I left Barcelona in the afternoon and arrived at the Mon Sant Benet hotel at approximately 3:40 p.m. The front desk welcomed me and checked me in to my room. He then unfolded a map of the surrounding area. As I listened, my eyes wandered beyond the glass walls toward the beautiful landscape—a sanctuary of mountains, fields, and lush trees with different colours. There was a sense of stillness here, the kind that does not merely quiet the ears, but gently invites the soul to listen.

The staff explained that I could tour the ancient monastery close by or visit the nearby village. I asked about Manresa—whether it was possible to walk there. I was told it was not; a taxi would be required. 

 

I chose to walk to the local village to browse the shops and go to the supermarket.

 

When I arrived, I quickly realized that it was siesta. The shops and restaurants were closed, the streets were deserted because people were resting. Since I was already there, I wandered on allowing myself to explore without agenda.

I walked for about 10 minutes and I unexpectedly saw the famous scallop shell, the concha de vieira, emblazoned on the path. This is an ancient symbol of the Camino de Santiago. My heart stirred.  It reminded me of the extraordinary experience I had when I walked the Camino many years ago.

The shell is not merely a marker; It signifies that many paths converge into one pilgrimage, one destination: Santiago de Compostela. I had no idea that this small town lay along the Camino. I recalled fond memories of walking the Camino years ago, where I was able to experience God in a very profound way on the journey.

 

That sight rekindled something in me.

 

One of the main reasons I had come to Spain was to visit the Cave of St. Ignatius in Manresa. I have long been drawn to the life of Ignatius of Loyola, to the mysterious work God accomplished in him after his pride was shattered and his heart made docile. In that cave, Ignatius spent eleven months in prayer, penance, and discernment. It was there that God reshaped his desires and enabled him to form the insights that would become The Spiritual Exercises—a gift not merely to the Church, but to all who seek freedom in God.

 

Seeing the Camino shell, I felt the stirring of a call. It was already past 4:10 p.m.  I checked Google maps and it estimated that the walk to Manresa would take two and a half hours.

I had a problem.  My phone battery was only at 35% and it would not be sufficient to get me to Manresa.

I needed Google map for navigation, and I feared getting lost or stranded somewhere especially as the day receded. Yet, in my heart I knew that this was no ordinary path. The Camino was a blessed road, sanctified by centuries of prayer, suffering, and divine providence.

I remembered how God had provided for me countless times on the Camino when I walked it eighteen years ago.  It was difficult journey but He carried me through the exhaustion and taught me to trust Him beyond reason. Something in me yearned to experience His presence again on the Camino—not merely with my feet, but with my soul.

 

So I gathered up the courage to go.

 

Almost immediately, God answered. Five minutes on my journey I came upon a small convenience store that was open during siesta. This was very rare. I entered, bought a bottle of water and a pack of mixed nuts. Any pilgrim knows getting dehydrated in the heat is very serious and can potentially put your life danger. I smiled quietly to myself, recognizing this was God’s first provision.

I checked my phone, memorized the directions, and put it to sleep to preserve battery life. Fifteen minutes later, I checked my phone again—only to discover that Google maps recalibrated and had led me astray. I walked in a different direction away from Manresa.

 

Time lost. Energy spent. My phone battery diminished.

 

Discouragement began to set in. Perhaps I should return to room at the hotel and get my portable power bank so I can charge my phone. Perhaps prudence demanded it.  This was my second obstacle.

As I thought about it, I knew that if I returned to my room, I would probably not walk at all. 

So I decided to pressed on.

 

The countryside unfolded beautifully—open fields, farms lands, and quiet roads. 

Soon, however, the road ended, and I faced a dangerous stretch-- a busy highway with cars and trucks speeding toward my direction, leaving only a narrow strip meant for cyclists. There was no pedestrian path and there was no way to cross the street to go in the direction of the traffic. A sense of heightened fear rose within me. Now I understood why the staff said it was not walkable. This was my third obstacle.

 

At that point, it made perfect rational sense to just turn around. It wasn't safe to proceed. Yet instead, I paused and I prayed. I asked God to be with me and my guardian angel to protect me. Then I slowly stepped onto the road and began to walk carefully.   I walked for about 25 minutes and eventually, the road gave way to a small town with sidewalks. I was very relieved. 

When I found a safe place to stop on the road, I quickly drank some water and ate the mixed nuts I had in my pocket.  I needed energy and I wanted to get rid of the wrapper to lighten my load. That pause—small and insignificant—proved to be providential.

 

Further ahead, I came across a bus stop. I quickly checked phone to see if the bus went to Manresa and I discovered that it did!  Just then, the bus arrived precisely at the moment.

I boarded on the bus with a sense of gratitude to God, and I arrived in Manresa in 20 minutes. It was  around 5:30 p.m. From there, I walked another 18 minutes to the Cave of St. Ignatius. 

                                    

When I arrived at the Cave of St. Ignatius, I was happy that it was still open. I was granted a solid hour of silence, prayer, and personal reflection.

 

I thanked God for bringing me safely to the sanctuary. I lifted the intentions of my family and friends and I meditated on the obedience of St. Ignatius, on how his surrender reshaped generations.

His prayer echoed in my heart:

 

“Give me only Your love and Your grace—that is enough for me.”

I reflected on how one gets a point in their lives where God alone suffices? And where grace is sufficient to fulfill them.

 

I also reflected on his prayers for Generosity:

“To give and not to count the cost.
To labor and not to seek for reward.”

 

We live in a world that always counts the cost before they give. This applies not only in monetary terms, but also in terms of our time, energy and effort.

Often, when you meet someone for the first time, they look at you and think “What can you do for me?  Or how can I benefit from this interaction?"  We do this —consciously or subconsciously —we ask: "What is in this for me?"  Even in our relationships, we count the cost before we give.

 

St. Ignatius asks for something radically different: a heart free enough to love without ledger, to serve without bargaining.

This prayer of generosity is meaningful to because it stands in stark contrast to the financial world that I am in -- Prospects must have the minimum investable assets before they can become a client, borrowers must have sufficient capital, collateral, and capacity to repay the loan, before financial institutions would lend to them.

 

How often do we apply the same logic to people? Whether it’s our friends, family, or strangers we encounter.  How often do we ask the question "If I do something for this person, what can they do for me?" In other words, If I give, what will I get in return?

 

I know we all have our shortcomings and ways of perceiving the world through our own lens based on our experiences, but it is encouraging for me to know that ordinary people who pursued the pleasures of the world, were able to have their hearts and minds transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit.

 

St. Ignatius was not perfect. He was man, sinful, and ambitious. And yet, by the power of Holy Spirit, his vision was purified, his desires reordered.

That same Spirit is alive today.

 

God alone can revolutionize the human heart. The power of Holy Spirit that transformed the heart of St. Ignatius and the lives of the saints can also work in us—if we allow it. The same Spirit still moves.  The same Spirit still calls. The same spirit still draws hearts towards the truth and interior freedom. 

 

The Holy Spirit can give us the power to love and to walk paths we would never choose on our own.  And in doing so, we may discover that the riskiest steps are often the most radiant with providence and grace.