By Don Stubbings, Director of SCL Associates
There is a silence that only the Flint Hills of Kansas or the mountains of Colorado can offer. It is not just the absence of sound, but a deep, living quiet filled with the presence of God. Out here, on gravel roads far from traffic, I pray in awe-filled silence. My bicycle has become more than a mode of exercise. It is a spiritual companion, guiding me to places only two wheels can reach.
I ride for many reasons: for health, for challenge, for joy. But increasingly, I ride for peace, reflection, and retreat. These motivations have shaped my routes, which have stretched from the Kansas prairie through the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas to the Spanish Peaks of Colorado. In this way, cycling has become a spiritual practice—a way to encounter God, to listen, and to care for creation.
Riding through fields of corn or over miles of the Konza prairie, I witness nature’s slow harvest—sprouts of corn becoming towering stalks, with wildlife in abundance, from coyotes to Kansas whitetail deer or an occasional skunk. These experiences highlight Earth’s resilience and its rapid changes. They also prompt me to remember that this land has long been sacred, home to Indigenous nations who prayed, lived, and loved here for generations. Their stories and struggles for justice still echo on these lands, and justice awaits.
The bike does not protect me from the elements; it exposes me to them. The sun, the dust, the changing wind, and dry creek beds remind me how urgently our climate is shifting. This awareness turns riding into not just recreation, but reflection. On steep climbs, like Mt. Bethal near Weston, Missouri, I often talk to myself through the effort, sometimes needing to step off the pedals. In those slower moments, when I walk my bike, my head is now forward, allowing new experiences to appear. The flint rock of Kansas catches my eye when my head is down pedaling; the waving wheat greets me as I walk with my head up—the same road offers a different view. When you slow down, your eyes open.
Pope Francis reminds us in Laudato Si: “What kind of world do we want to leave to those who come after us, to children who are now growing up?” Riding reminds me of the divine in nature. It also reminds me of our role as stewards of this shared home.
That recognition calls us to act: to live more simply, reduce harm, and cherish the lands we move through. Our public lands, grasslands, forests, and waterways cannot be compromised or sold to the highest bidder—they are sacred. Yet, greed and exploitation threaten them. Now is the time to speak out, advocate for strong protections, and support efforts that restore and preserve these sacred places. Each of us can make choices to safeguard and heal God’s creation.
Cycling has taught me the beauty of stillness in motion. It has become a retreat, a moving prayer, and a call to stewardship. Let us seek peace and better health, but also take tangible steps: volunteer for local conservation efforts, support organizations that defend the land, contact officials, and speak up for justice. Together, we can nurture a world where need is seen over greed, and Earth and humanity find harmony.
