Even
wrapped in scaffolding, St. Patrick’s
Cathedral in Manhattan is a thing of beauty.
The kind of sight that sucks your breath away for just a moment as you
take in the vaulted ceilings, the targeted lighting and the detailed stained
glass windows.
We wander in to find sanctuary from
the bustling streets of the city and stumble upon a golden, sacred silence.
People mill around, lighting
candles to the saints and most likely sending up silent prayers for loved
ones. And suddenly, in the midst of the
quiet, comes the startlingly rich sound of the organ. Immediately following is the traditional
recitations of prayers and hymns from the altar. Voices rise from all over the church and seem
to warm the air around us.
A slow chill runs up my spine and a
lump forms in my throat, catching me completely off guard. I am overwhelmed by the presence of God in
this place, and simultaneously humbled to be surrounded by believers who worship
in such a different way than I do.
In an environment that I formerly
would've considered cold and without feeling, something new starts happening in
my heart.
These pews are filled with people
who understand what I have forgotten.
I
have come to think of God as Father and Friend, and while He is those things,
He is so much more. He is almighty, He is all powerful, He is the
creator of the heavens and the earth.
I have become too familiar. I have lost the sense of awe and wonder and
reverence and respect that He so deserves from me.
…and so what began as an excursion
into a beautiful building has left me speechless with gratitude, wonder and a
new perspective.
