Beyond the Porchlight: Greece, Paul, and the People Along the Way
As we finally boarded the plane after a delay, the excitement written
across each face made one thing clear — this would be a journey they would
carry home and share for years to come. For many, this wasn’t simply a
vacation. It was a dream years in the making—a chance to travel beyond their
own porchlights and step into history, faith, and adventure together.
When we arrived in Athens, six of our travelers had arrived early, and
the hugs we shared as we reunited revealed something beautiful — bonds had already begun to form long before the journey officially started. Traveling together
has a way of doing that. It removes strangers and replaces them with stories,
laughter, and connection.
Athens itself surprised many of us. At first glance, the graffiti-covered
streets and worn buildings felt more “third world” than the polished images
found in travel magazines. But as often happens in life, beauty waited beyond
our first impression.
Standing atop Mars Hill, where the Apostle Paul preached his famous
sermon recorded in Acts 17, I looked directly across at the Acropolis —
towering above the city as a monument to ancient gods and human achievement. In
that moment, Paul’s words became real to me in a way they never had before.
Surrounded by temples built to false gods, he stood boldly proclaiming the truth.
Looking across that landscape, I realized just how powerful his message must
have been.
Many in our group climbed the Acropolis itself — no easy feat for a group
of senior adults navigating steep, slippery stone pathways. Yet one by one,
they made it to the top. Breathless, tired, proud, they could say, “I did it.”
Honestly, not many people — young or old — can say that.
After Athens, we boarded a short flight to Santorini, where several
travelers from across the United States joined our group of 25. During the
flight, one lady experienced a sudden drop in blood sugar. Before anyone could
fully react, one of the two doctors traveling with our group jumped from his
seat to help this stranger. The compassion and gentleness he showed came from
something deeper than medical training — genuine care for people. Throughout
the trip, I watched her greet him with heartfelt gratitude every time their
paths crossed.
And then there was Santorini.
Even with May 1, 2026, being recorded as the coldest May Day in Greece in
over 70 years, the island still felt magical. We certainly had not packed for
freezing wind, but the whitewashed buildings, blue domes, dramatic cliffs, and
endless ocean views somehow seemed even more beautiful against the cool air and
cloudy skies.
The landscapes were breathtaking, but the food may have rivaled the
scenery. Everything seemed to float in priceless extra virgin olive oil. My
favorite surprise came at a small local restaurant where the Greeks served what
they called “Chicken Soup.” Being from the South, I thought I knew chicken and
rice — until the rich egg-and-lemon sauce transformed it into something
unforgettable.
In Akrotiri, often called the “Minoan Pompeii,” we stepped back into the
15th century BC, walking among preserved pottery, wooden bed frames, and
ancient structures frozen beneath volcanic ash. Later, we enjoyed traditional
Greek salads and wine at a local winery before wandering through Fira, laughing
as the powerful winds nearly pushed several of us straight down the streets.
There were so many moments woven between the famous landmarks: gelato
shared between new friends, fields of red poppies along the roadsides, quiet
shopping excursions, and evenings filled with stories and laughter.
At Hotel Famissi Eden, the small chapel offered travelers a quiet place
for reflection. Later, Father Pefkis’ gallery in Trikala–Kalambaka introduced
us to the fading art of biblical iconography. At the same time, the Holy
Monastery of Varlaam challenged many in our group with its 177 steep steps. Yet
one by one, determined travelers made the climb.
Historically, monks sought these mountaintops to escape the distractions
of the world and draw closer to God. Standing there, it was easy to understand
why.
Traveling along the ancient Via Egnatia — the Roman road that carried the
Gospel into Greece — carried spiritual meaning all its own. Standing where Paul
first set foot on European soil, visiting the prison where he was held, and
standing beside the river where Lydia became the first Christian baptized in
Europe made the scriptures I have read since childhood suddenly feel alive.
But as incredible as the destinations were, the people remain what I
carry most deeply home with me.
One lovely lady on our journey had recently learned she had cancer. She
had scheduled this trip two years earlier and was determined to walk this path
no matter what. Another doctor in our group gently cared for my husband when he
became ill during the final days of the trip.
One gentleman repeatedly said before the trip, “I want to go, but I’m
afraid I’ll fall.” Yet he made it — every step.
Several widowers traveled with us. A few adventurous explorers came
alone. Every person carried a story. Different backgrounds. Different journeys.
Different reasons for saying yes to this adventure.
And somehow, through Greece, faith, history, cold winds, steep climbs,
olive oil, laughter, and shared meals, strangers became friends.
As we all safely returned home, I realized once again that Beyond the
Porchlight has never really been about the destination.
It’s always been about the people we become—and the friendships we find—once
we step beyond the familiar and trust the journey ahead.
Until the next Beyond the Porchlight adventure.
