Sunny Side Up: Holy places are nearer than you think
By Kathleen Gibson
God put something in our souls that stretches ever upward to reach him. Consider the edifices we build in which to worship:
I’ve stood in holy halls. In small, white, tall-steepled churches that dot the green hills of Switzerland. In London’s St. Paul’s cathedral, where famous dead lay powerless in the crypt below me. I’ve attended evensong in York Minster, York’s 7th century many-spired Gothic cathedral, and Sunday evening mass in Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica near Canada’s Parliament Hill, listening to 4800 pipes sounding from its historic organ.
I’ve worshipped in humbly built chapels in India. Stood awestruck in the Vatican’s Dome of St. Peter, the tallest in the world. I’ve held my breath until it hurt in the Sistine Chapel, surrounded by paintings by some of the world’s greatest artists, beneath Michelangelo’s iconic scenes depicting creation, judgment and redemption.
But what do I know of holy? Only this: when I reach God best, when I feel him nearest me, fingering my soul, filling my spirit and assuring me of his love, it’s never in places that tourists flock to see. Never where men have lost their lives building spires or chipping massive stones. Nor where kings and queens have been crowned or buried.
Where do you connect with God? When I reach him, or, rather, when he reaches me, it’s far nearer home. In the sanctuary of our own church and the holy hush of communal worship. Or as the Preacher and I join hands to pray. But I’m just as likely to be reading scripture, wandering a wooded trail, or working in one of our garden beds.
I spent a few hours awake overnight. Unable to sleep, I plugged in my earbuds and opened my favourite free classical music app. (Classical King, for those who may enjoy that too.) Strangely, I heard a carol, one you and I know well. “Silent night, holy night….”
It made me reflect on holy. On the place God chose for Jesus’ birth. No spires, no iconic artwork, no incense or gold-lined altar. Just a stable rough-hewn, embedded with the sharp scent of livestock. An insignificant dot under the vast dome of sky—and one blazing star. And yet, a most holy place—because God was all there: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Cathedrals, churches and temples are not necessarily holy nor unholy. God himself directed the building of glorious temples in scripture. But I also recall scripture that reminds us that he created our human bodies to be his temples, impeccably fashioned for the highest purpose of reflecting his glory to others.
In the mid 1800s, Rector John S.B. Monsell penned a hymn which included this chorus:
“O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness; bow down before him, his glory proclaim; with gold of obedience, and incense of lowliness, kneel and adore him: the Lord is his name.”
That’s the gold God wants. The incense that pleases him. The worship he deserves. The holiness he finds beautiful. The glory he owns. And that holy place is in your own heart.
Sunny Side Up has inspired readers with glimpses of everyday life and Christian faith since 2001. Contact Kathleen at sunnysideup.press@gmail.com