We pulled off the highway, bumped our way down a tiny side road, and stopped in a small area with fast food wrappers and cigarette butts scattered around it.

The sounds of traffic faded into the background as we climbed out of the car and viewed the rugged track before us. The Via Egnatia, once a major highway in the ancient Roman world, lay empty, climbing the hill toward what was once the thriving city of Philippi in far northern Greece.

The Via Egnatia was built by the Romans between 146 and 120 B.C. This was the road the Apostle Paul walked with his companions Silas and Luke around 50 AD, as they spread the gospel throughout the Roman Empire. Upon landing by boat at Neapolis, they would have walked this road 15 kilometers (9.3 miles) to Philippi, and then beyond that to the cities of Thessalonica and Berea across what is now northern Greece, before traveling south by ship once again. The portion of road where we stood led to Philippi, where a few would come to faith in Jesus through the witness of Paul and his companions, eventually forming a church to which Paul would write a letter—the Bible’s book of Philippians—a decade later.

From Troas we put out to sea and sailed straight for Samothrace, and the next day we went on to Neapolis. From there we traveled to Philippi, a Roman colony and the leading city of that district of Macedonia. And we stayed there several days.

Acts 16:11-12

The road’s stones shone in the afternoon sun, polished smooth by countless feet throughout the years. The Romans, the Ottomans, the Byzantines and Thracians; even Crusaders from Europe marched, rode and walked where I stood that day. The conquerors and the conquered, the despairing and the driven, all left their footprints there, now lost to history and time.

And between the armies and the merchants, the refugees and the noblemen, walked three unassuming men carrying a message that would change the world. Indeed, it would spread far beyond the farthest reaches of that stony road, far beyond all their hope and imagining as they made their way up that hill toward Philippi.

I stood on those same smooth rocks, overcome with gratitude for the footsteps those three men left behind them that led me to this place. And I wondered: what footsteps am I leaving for those who come after? What effect will my faith, my words, and my life have on my children, my friends and the world beyond my door?

Faith is not something that can be given; we can only tell of the joy inexpressible and full of glory. How beautiful on the mountains, the prophet Isaiah exulted, are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!” (Isaiah 52:7)

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart and, whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God’s grace with me. God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:3-8

The Via Egnatia is quiet now, largely overlooked, only small portions left to testify of the men and women who once walked its way. In contrast to the armies come and gone, those three humble men carried a message that would establish a kingdom no imperial army could defeat. Their hearts burned to tell the known world about Jesus, never imagining that message would still be told two millennia later.

A message that would be passed down through the generations, person to person, until it reached a little girl perched on a log by Strawberry Creek 2,000 years later. A girl who grew to be the woman now stooping to run her fingers over those stones in gratitude and wonder.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow