I have a fondness for architectural design. I especially love old buildings and houses. Some of the most magnificent structures known to man are cathedrals and churches around the world – erected to inspire highest praise and worship, and to reflect God’s glory. Many of these sanctuaries seem to take on a life of their own, causing the spiritually discerning to sense God’s presence as they enter.
Sanctuary - a beautiful word indicating a sacred consecrated place, or a refuge: a shelter from danger or hardship.
I often reminisce about the little church I attended with my family as a child. In my mind’s eye, I can see my grandmother playing the piano, my dad leading worship, and my mom on the front row of the choir loft. I learned so much about God, His faithfulness, His mercy, His love. I was very young when I first experienced the warmth of His presence in that place.
I learned from my parents’ example the power of time spent alone with God, the practice of choosing to quiet myself before Him, to pray, and to listen.
There is a particular ’sanctuary’ I love more than any house of worship I have ever attended. It is a very small room with a large window, a table, and five chairs. Four of the chairs surround the round table in the center of the room, while the fifth chair – a bit larger and fully upholstered - is perched in the corner of the room next to the window. The ‘room’ is my mother’s breakfast nook. The upholstered chair – a sacred seat. On a shelf behind ‘the chair’ you can find my mother’s worn Bible, and ‘the book’ where the names of her beloved family members are written.
When I visit her, we sit in the nook and drink coffee and catch up on the latest. The nook serves as extra dining space at Christmas dinners, and even a desk for the ‘grands’ as they collaborate to produce the fine artwork that graces Mom’s fridge.
But, in the wee hours, before the sun peaks through the window – and before the birds gather ’round the many feeders that hang in the boughs of the ornamental trees outside – the nook serves as a sanctuary.
The sweet, small-framed woman who is the faithful matriarch of our clan – takes her place in that chair every morning. There, in the pre-dawn stillness, she meets with the Father – to remind Him of her desires for her family, and to thank Him for all that He means to her. I’m certain she shares the secret burdens of her heart, and finds strength to face the day. I am also certain that as long as she lives – my name will be remembered before the throne of God, along with the names of my siblings, our husbands, wives, offspring, and as the need dictates – our cats and dogs.
In that little church, we used to sing a familiar hymn. There is a place of quiet rest – Near to the heart of God….a place where sin cannot molest – Near to the heart of God. The nook serves as a constant reminder to me that God has promised to ‘draw nigh’ – if I will. He’s always ready to meet me in the place I hollow out.
Mother knows best. This world will take its toll with its burdens and cares and distractions. The only rest for the weary sojourner is found in the shelter of His wings.
Do you hear the cry of your own heart? Maybe it sounds much like the famed cry of the ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame’……
…Sanctuary. Sanctuary.
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