Walking by Faith, Not by Sight: What America’s Pedestrianism Craze Teaches Us About Endurance and Calling
Walking is something most people do every day. In this episode of GodNAmerica, I use that ordinary habit to look at two kinds of endurance: the late-1800s obsession with competitive walking, and the steady, deliberate “walk” Scripture uses to describe a life of faith. The goal is simple: connect a vivid moment in American history to the Bible’s repeated call to keep moving—wisely, purposefully, and in love—especially when the road feels long.
I start by stepping back into a scene that sounds almost unreal to modern ears: a stadium packed at 1:00 a.m. to watch people walk.
In the episode, I tell the story of pedestrianism—America’s newest craze in the late 1800s—through one electric night: March 10, 1879, at Gilmore’s Garden in New York City (later renamed Madison Square Garden). Thousands of cheering fans pack the building. People shove at the windows to get in. They are there to witness competitive walking, not as a leisurely stroll, but as a brutal test of human stamina.
The event I describe is a six-day contest on an eighth-of-a-mile track. The rules are straightforward and relentless: contestants must cover at least 450 miles without leaving the arena. They sleep in small tents beside the track. They keep moving even when exhaustion blurs their vision. The walker who goes the farthest wins the Astley Belt, which I describe as the “Super Bowl of walking.”
To picture what that requirement means, it helps to translate the distance into laps. On an eighth-of-a-mile track:
450 miles equals 3,600 laps (450 × 8).
565 miles equals 4,520 laps (565 × 8).
This is the kind of endurance that turns an everyday motion into something extreme—step after step, hour after hour, through fatigue, doubt, and discomfort.
I trace the movement back to Edward Payson Weston, a journalist who, in the account I share, lost a bet on Abraham Lincoln’s 1860 election. His penalty was to walk from Boston to Washington, D.C. through ice and snow to attend the inauguration. The walk took 10 days, and it changed his life. More than that, it helped spark a national fascination with the human capacity to endure.
By the 1870s, pedestrianism had captured America’s imagination. In the way I describe it, these walkers became celebrities: they had trading cards, endorsements, and even scientific studies done on them. One standout figure is Frank Hart, a Haitian immigrant who set a record by walking 565 miles in six days. I also note that women competed, too—while men walked in midtown Manhattan, women competed in Harlem, showing the same grit and stamina.
That historical snapshot sets up the bigger point: Scripture talks about walking even more often than America once did—but as a spiritual pattern, not a sport.
In the episode, I turn to 2 Corinthians 5:7: “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” Paul’s picture is of a life in motion—forward, deliberate, persistent. Faith is not presented as standing still, watching from the sidelines, or waiting for perfect visibility. It is daily movement in trust, one step after another, even when the path feels endless.
I then connect that idea to the repeated command to walk in a way that matches what God has done and who God is shaping us to be. I reference:
Ephesians 4:1, where believers are urged to walk worthy of the calling they have received.
Ephesians 5:15–16, which calls us to walk carefully and wisely, “redeeming the time,” because the days are evil.
Ephesians 5:2, which tells us to walk in love, patterned after Christ’s love and sacrifice.
In other words, the Christian life is described not just as a belief to hold, but as a path to follow. The Bible’s language is practical: walking implies direction, pace, and persistence. It implies choices made in real time.
From there, I connect endurance walking to a much earlier “walk” in American history: the early settlers at Jamestown in 1607. I describe their pastor, Robert Hunt, as Captain John Smith described him: “that honest, religious, courageous divine.” When the settlers landed, I recount that Hunt led the people to the shore, gathered them under the trees, and declared: “The Lord is in his holy temple. Let all the earth keep silence before him.”
Then I share a prayer I attribute to Hunt—one that aims at calling, not comfort. In the way I present it, the prayer asks God to bless the plantation, and frames the highest end of the work as setting up “the standard” and displaying “the banner of Jesus Christ,” even “where Satan’s throne is,” and laboring for the conversion of the heathen.
Whether the scene is a six-day race under bright arena lights or a prayer under trees at the edge of a new settlement, the theme is the same: endurance is not accidental. Endurance comes from purpose.
I make the contrast explicitly. The pedestrianism champions walked for a belt and a record. Hunt, in my telling, walked for the kingdom. The Christian walk is not about applause or medals. It is about obedience under pressure—continuing forward when comfort would be easier.
That brings the episode to the present. I describe our moment as a race against time, temptation, and tyranny—not against each other. I warn that many have grown weary, and some have stopped walking altogether, content to sit on the sidelines of faith and hope someone else carries the torch. But the call in Ephesians is not passive. If “the days are evil,” then redeeming time is urgent work.
I also describe the Christian heritage of endurance in sweeping terms: a walk that began at Jamestown’s shore, continued through “the pulpits of the black regiment,” marched at Valley Forge, and carried through generations who chose faith over fear. The point is not nostalgia. The point is responsibility. In the episode, I emphasize that every step counts, every act of courage matters, and every prayer sown in faith moves us forward.
I close with a simple image: “Let’s lace up again,” spiritually speaking. Walking with Christ is not glamorous, and it is not easy, but it is holy. And the driving sentence of the whole episode returns: we walk by faith, not by sight. Faith, when put into motion, can change the course of nations.
Application
The episode’s main command is not to admire endurance from a distance, but to practice it. Here are practical ways to put the “walk” language of Scripture into motion, based on the passages I quote:
Take one faithful step at a time. “Walk by faith” is daily movement, not occasional bursts of inspiration. Choose a next step you can actually take today: prayer, repentance, reconciliation, or obedience in a specific area.
Check your direction, not just your speed. “Walk worthy” is about alignment—living in a way that matches your calling. Ask where your habits are pulling you off the path.
Walk carefully on purpose. “Walk circumspectly” means paying attention. Slow down enough to notice the compromises that sneak in when life is hurried.
Redeem the time with small decisions. “The days are evil” is not a reason to panic; it is a reason to be intentional. Replace one mindless pattern with a life-giving one (Scripture, prayer, service, encouragement).
Walk in love in a concrete way. Love is not abstract. Choose one person to serve this week with patience, honesty, and sacrificial care.
If endurance walking required thousands of laps, the walk of faith often looks like thousands of small obediences. The holiness is in the consistency.
TL;DR
I revisit late-1800s pedestrianism, a competitive walking craze that drew huge crowds.
The episode highlights a six-day event at Gilmore’s Garden (later Madison Square Garden) on March 10, 1879, at 1:00 a.m.
Contestants had to walk at least 450 miles on an eighth-of-a-mile track without leaving the arena.
I connect the movement to Edward Payson Weston, whose 10-day walk (after losing a bet tied to Lincoln’s 1860 election) helped spark national fascination.
I note celebrity walkers like Frank Hart, who walked 565 miles in six days, and I mention that women competed as well.
Scripture uses walking as a picture of a life of faith: 2 Corinthians 5:7 says we “walk by faith, not by sight.”
I reference Paul’s call to walk worthy (Ephesians 4:1), walk wisely and “redeem the time” (Ephesians 5:15–16), and walk in love (Ephesians 5:2).
I connect that “walk” to Jamestown (1607) and pastor Robert Hunt’s prayer of calling and endurance.
The episode warns against sitting on the sidelines of faith and urges a purposeful, prayerful walk in a culture moving toward darkness.
The closing message: faith in motion can change lives—and can shape the course of a nation.
Devotional Questions
In the episode, what details about pedestrianism stood out most, and why?
What does it look like in real life to “walk by faith, not by sight” when the outcome is unclear?
Paul talks about walking “worthy” and walking “wisely.” What kinds of choices make a walk unwise?
The episode contrasts walking for a prize with walking for the kingdom. What motivations show up in our own “walk”?
Where does someone in your family feel weary right now, and what would a “next step” of faith look like?