“Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness; tremble before him, all the earth!” – Psalm 96:9
These are the words that came to my mind, as my son and I ascended the last bank of boulders to a glacial lake, formed by the magnificent granite walls that encircle it. Winded but exhilarated, we tread softly on the tundra grass as we approached this pristine sanctuary. We looked around in wonder and awe. The sheer vertical scale of the mountains towering over us was dizzying. But we looked up anyway, trying to grasp the movement of the clouds beyond the ledges, the brilliance of the sunlight on uppermost crests. A hawk soared on a vector, as if dancing in the wind. My son and I smiled at each other, so little words to say. So, we sat by the still lake, in the fresh, frigid breeze, marveling at the splendor of God before us. To me, it was a sanctuary which spoke of God’s power and majesty, his sovereignty and rule. This place was filled with God’s presence and every detail about it exuded his glory.
Yesterday I entered another space, equally beautiful and holy, but very different. I walked a quiet, sandy trail on the far side of the park in the morning sunshine. Over the ridge, the trail flattens out and enters a young grove of aspen trees. Their tender young branches form a low canopy through which I walked, like nearing an alter at the end of a long nave. The aspen leaves fluttered in the breeze, reflecting a hundred shades of light. This too was a cathedral of sorts, but it was much softer than the one so highly perched above the forest. There was gentleness, a warm welcoming, a sense of embrace. These traits, too, spoke of God’s character, and I felt his near presence filling up this place.
How much we can know of God as we experience his creation. How kind of him to lay out these natural arenas in which he invites us to worship him. And then, as if he had been waiting for me to come to this revelation, I thought… maybe my heart is a cathedral too. A shanty of one, to be sure, but still, a place dedicated to reflecting the glory of God. I wished for my heart to be as firm and steady as those rock walls, speaking strength and steadfastness in every season. I want my faith to be immovable. Of course it is not. But I hope my genuine desire may be enough, sometimes. I pray that it is. I ask for God to make my heart tender like the branches of the aspens. Sensitive to the movement of God’s spirit, sheltering and kind. Trembling in the splendor of God’s holiness. May I be all these things at the same time. Like Jesus is. Oh, Lord, make my heart a cathedral, which your presence fills, in which your splendor overflows, like wine from a glass, like water over the banks of the brook.
Amen.