There’s a whole world full of beautiful places to explore. But what does Jesus’ earthly ministry teach us about truly seeing the world?
At breakfast one morning, my friend Laura sighed. “Why do some people get to travel to all the fun places?” She turned her phone to show me social media photos of a friend posed in locations across Europe.
Digging into my cereal, I shrugged. “If it helps you feel better, Jesus never got to visit Brazil.”
The comment hardly assuaged Laura’s wanderlust—or mine. I battle envy when Answers in Genesis speakers present updates on their international speaking events or when friends post about their vacations to far-off continents.
Meanwhile, I’ve never even traveled outside the United States, though I have rambled a bit within its borders. Caught a glimpse of Washington State’s Mt. Ranier peeking out of the clouds. Admired blue bonnet seas in Texas. Spotted cougar tracks on a snowy hill outside Santa Fe. Gaped at the towering redwoods in California’s Muir Woods. Numbed my feet in Lake Superior. Meandered the red rock formations in Colorado’s Garden of the Gods.
But it’s not enough.
I want to hike waterfalls in Iceland. Greet the Swiss Alps outside my window. Wade in the Nile. Watch firefly squid light up Japan’s Toyama Bay. Behold a sunrise on the African savannah. Meander the verdant hills of Ireland. Picnic in Britain’s Lake District.
Actually, on my most mundane days, I’m eager to be anywhere but here with tedious routines demanding my focus and faithfulness. Surely anywhere else would offer me more inspiration, enrichment, and opportunities than brushing my teeth, pouring kibble into my dogs’ bowls, packing my lunch, and sitting at a desk to edit these magazine pages week after week.
But as I search for purpose in my ever-growing “wanderlist,” I’m humbled to remember that in his first coming to earth, Jesus never ate a banana. He never dipped his toes in the Pacific Ocean. Never watched a cherry blossom blizzard in Japan. In fact, besides his toddlerhood in Egypt, Jesus didn’t travel far from his home in Israel. He created this planet and holds it together, yet when he dwelled here in physical form, Jesus didn’t squeeze in a world tour.
Sure, Jesus didn’t have my modern opportunities for travel. Still, he didn’t evade the mundanity of chopping wood, carrying water, walking from town to town, facing the faithless day after day. He knew the beauty and wonder available to him on this planet better than anyone, yet he didn’t look in this world for fulfillment or relief it couldn’t offer.
It means the world to me to travel the world. But Jesus’ first coming can teach me about seeing the world for what it is—a place where I can walk with him wherever I go.
Worldwide travel and tourism spending in 2023
Estimated in revenue for the cruise industry in 2024
What the average American spends per vacation
What Americans spend abroad every year
France was predicted to be the most visited country in 2024. It has been the most visited destination for more than 30 years.
Baby boomers are most likely to travel domestically (73%), while Gen Z are most likely to travel internationally (46%).
In times past, people lived in the same town, sometimes the same house, all their lives. The world was something they read about in newspapers, heard tell of at the general store or afternoon tea. Now, we’ve slain the sea monsters, tamed the wilderness, spanned the globe. We no longer fear the unknown other side of the world—we crave it.
Americans spent $1.3 trillion on travel in 2023.1 Not surprising since almost half of Americans budget about $4,000 for travel each year.2 About 76% of Americans have traveled to at least one other country. Roughly a quarter have been to five or more, earning the status of globetrotters.
Millennials travel more broadly than any other generation. In 2023, millennials took five trips a year and spent 29% of their income on travel.3 According to Lindsey Roeschke, an analyst at Morning Consult, “[Millennials] see travel as a right rather than a privilege, and consider their travel experiences to be a part of their identity rather than a check on a bucket list.”4 In other words, my generation takes travel seriously.
But we aren’t wasting these scenic vacations and expensive getaways. Millennials prioritize experiencing new cultures and learning new information on their travels.5 We want the world to make a mark on us.
Believers can learn something from millennials. We aren't just tourists passing through this planet. We’re bound for our next more glorious home. But this present earth is our temporary home, specifically created by God for us to inhabit, to steward (Isaiah 45:18; Genesis 1:28). He commanded us to have dominion over it, to make our mark on the earth by making order. But earth also leaves its mark on us as it displays the power of its Creator.
When Christ looked around, he surely saw his creation as it was—marred by his judgment on our sin and suffering under the curse. But still, he pointed out lilies and trees, mustard seeds and sparrows, finding in their blemished form value for teaching us about his Father.
Romans 1:20 assures us that “[God’s] invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made.” Wherever we travel, we can be shaped by the geography, history, cultures, and natural environments of foreign places. But even experience turns out to be empty wanderlust if it’s our ultimate goal. When we’re looking, each destination is an opportunity to see the Creator in another corner of creation.
I once overheard a man in line at Home Depot telling a friend about living in Arizona. “People ask me, ‘How many times did you see the Grand Canyon while you were out there?’ And I say, ‘You know how many times? Never. You know why? ‘Cause it’s a hole in the ground with a river running through it.’”
Turns out, if you’re looking for a hole in the ground, you’ll see a hole in the ground, no matter how glorious the view. Wonder compels humility, submission to something larger than us. Our awe of the world’s incredible places primes us for a worshipful response to their all-powerful Creator, cracking us open and remodeling our soul into something larger, fit for more worship.
But you need more than mere awe to see a place for what it really is. You need to know the true history of the world from Genesis.
Travel guides and national park signs will explain the canyons and peaks formed over millions of years. But Genesis tells us God created a perfect world in only six days, about 6,000 years ago. We have no way of knowing what the planet looked like back then because Adam’s disobedience brought a curse on the earth, and Adam’s descendants’ sin brought a catastrophic global flood (Genesis 6–8). Today’s mountains, valleys, canyons, and seas hardly resemble the original earth God created.
This is what delights me most about our world: even corrupted and scarred, it still proclaims the glory of God (Psalm 19:1). But you’ll have a proper view of the world only with a proper worldview from God’s Word.
In my brief travels, I’ve witnessed the truth of God’s Word come alive in my destinations. The gaping Rio Grande Gorge testified to the cataclysmic power of the global flood that reshaped the earth. The dizzying array of moss and fungi in the South Carolina woods reminded me of the endless variety God embedded into nature’s DNA. The California redwoods awed me to think that even with their magnificence, God still views man as the pinnacle of his creation.
Last year, while exploring Ash Cave in Hocking Hills, Ohio, I stopped a hiker headed back the way I'd come. I asked him, “What’s on the trail up ahead?”
“Oh, everything! There’s an old fire tower.” Then he lit up. “But there’s also a frog pond and a spice bush just around the bend.”
A frog pond and spice bush were everything to this guy who was anything but a tourist. I hope that my fervor matches his when someone asks me, “What’s up ahead?” I want to see the world for what Scripture says it is so I can tell others, “Oh everything! Our fallen yet majestic world today, a promise of a future perfect world, and behind it all, the Creator and Savior of mankind.”
In 2024, I visited Ash Cave in Ohio—not far from home!
When world travel isn’t an option, wonder awaits in our hometown. The familiar can offer fantastic options for exploring new landscapes, cultures, and experiences. Over the years, I’ve learned how to scout out delightful spots in my area.
Look for Signs
Road signs led me to one of the world’s largest model train displays; the Kentucky Fried Chicken museum; and a local 9/11 memorial. As you see signs, keep a list of places to check out.
Long-time locals can easily provide the highlights of an area. Consider joining local social media pages that feature small businesses and attractions, often with discount deals.
Check out guidebooks and websites like Atlas Obscura and Roadside America, as well as sites that discuss historical landmarks and any books or films set in your area. In cities, search for maps of murals painted on the buildings.
Local nature parks might not be Yellowstone, but they still display the Creator’s handiwork. Cemeteries also offer peaceful spots to explore—and you can often see graves of famous people (like Fredric Baur, inventor of the Pringles can, who is buried in a chip can in a local cemetery.)
Purchase digital scavenger hunts that send you around your city, getting to know the place along the way.
Museums, zoos, and aquariums often offer rotating special exhibits. My area is home to many museums, including the world’s only ventriloquist museum, the American Sign Museum, and a museum of broadcasting.
Look for local grocery stores, food festivals, historic markets, and restaurants that represent the flavor of your area. For example, every year, Cincinnati hosts a goetta festival, celebrating the unique German sausage blended with oats and spices.
Nearby, I’ve spied a mushroom-shaped house, a small replica of Notre Dame, a castle, and a 30-foot green ET named Clive.
Our desire to visit beautiful, exotic places reveals our unuttered desire to see another world beyond our own—a consummate universe we once enjoyed and will one day enjoy again. But the cure for our empty wanderlust isn’t seeing more of this world. It’s living for another (Hebrews 11:16).
C. S. Lewis warns of assigning a misplaced value to beautiful things. “If they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never visited.”6
Abraham, Moses, David—Scripture brims with people who knew this earth wasn’t their final destination (Leviticus 25:23; 1 Chronicles 29:15; Psalm 39:12). And Christ, though he was fully present in his few decades of life on this earth, knew he was bound to go back to heaven. Surely while he was here, Christ saw the earth not just as it was before the fall, and not just as it is, but also as it one day would be on the other side of his sacrifice.
Whatever portion of this planet we’re blessed to see, we can’t mistake it for our ultimate destination. This world is simply the greenroom where we wait to enter an unfathomable reality, casting this world in sepia tones by comparison.
Nothing in this world compares to what’s coming in the next.
When Jesus comes a second time, he will make all things new and dwell with us forever in his glorious, perfect earth. While this earth allows us to know Christ through faith, the best part of the new heavens and earth—perhaps the part that now leaves us longing for more—is that we’ll see him face to face. If I don’t snap a photo atop El Capitan or in front of the candy-colored Kremlin or on a camel in Dubai, it’ll be okay. Nothing in this world compares to what’s coming in the next.
As my wanderlist grows, I hope so will my contentment to better know my Savior in every corner of the world, both the exotic and the mundane, whether viewing a lavender field in Province, France, or the tulips blanketing my church flowerbeds like a pastel calico.
In doing his Father’s will, Jesus stayed close to home, ministering to people, training his followers, dying for our sins, and rising from the grave. He didn’t have planes, bullet trains, cruise ships, or even a car. Today, I have interstates and airports, and travel agents—nearly unlimited resources to whisk me to far-off places. But if I’m called to get closer to Jesus and live for eternity, then the point of my life isn’t accumulating stamps in my passport but walking with Christ wherever I am on the map.
In his physical body, Jesus never visited Brazil—but I might someday. And I don’t want to waste my wander. Whatever else I may experience in far-off places, I want to see the one who created our universe and dwells with me by his Spirit wherever I roam.
There’s a whole world of beautiful places to explore. But what does Jesus’ earthly ministry teach us about truly seeing the world?
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