I walked across dust covered dirt, covered with cigarette butts that seemed to have fallen like hail across the grounds. The bright white towers jutting up into vivid blue sky beckoned me to their refuge, while the wind whipped at me.
I could have sat in that small cross shaped room and taken in the art of God and the art of God for hours. I wish I could have whisked away the tourists and taken the room for myself for what it really is.
I grew up non-denominational in faith, but I’ve learned the sacred and the holy is everywhere. Dinner over looking a city, being taught to knit in Russian, driving through Arizona deserts & frozen landscapes of Eastern Europe, a Catholic Mission in the middle of the Sonoran Desert & shuttles in former Soviet cities.
Because my God does not reside in protestant churches only. He is a God of nature and a God of quiet moments between friends. He’s the God of a pilgrim coming back to life and finding flight in wood pews.
In the darkened alcoves of the mission I was greatly taken with a need to light a candle. To whisper a prayer. I struggled with the thought of paying $3 for a candle and to say a prayer to God which I knew didn’t require payment or the striking of a match. I wish I’d paid the $3. I wish I’d taken that moment for holy communion.
Because my faith is more than just Sunday mornings, any my faith is more than just scriptures read. My faith is meeting when I’m called whether in centuries old churches or within the pages of a novel.
I remember as I walked the grounds of the mission being struck by the fact that this holy sanctuary was in the middle of a desert. A sacred place for weary pilgrims. An oasis in the midst of dry circumstances…both figuratively and physically.
What is calling you to sacred today, are you meeting there?