If you think of yourself in a place, where is it? Perhaps a factory? You mechanically crank out widgets, that’s what you do, and live for the end of the day and long for retirement? Perhaps a store? Are you about stuff, necessary stuff and nice stuff, getting new in and old, dated stuff out? Perhaps a country club? Relaxing with friends, playing, that’s the essential you! Home? You are warm and welcoming, protective of your relatives. As good as your places may be, is any totally satisfying?
Do those places inspire you, ennoble you, give you a sense of awe that makes your day-to-day tedium and troubles bearable? Is there transcendence in your soul that makes you agree with poet Paul Gerhardt, “No trouble troubles me. Misfortune now is play and night is bright as day?”
There is indeed such a place, a place that includes all the places of our lives. It’s the cathedral of God’s creation. Go outdoors. See the trees, pillars reaching up toward the vault of heaven. Lift up your eyes to the vault adorned with blue, with gray, with dark clouds and lightning. See the lights of the cathedral, the sun, the moon, the stars, windows that teach us. “The heavens declare the glory of God. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard.” (Psalm 19:1, 3-4) Isn’t this the place where you live?
And among the smaller places in the cathedral is your earthly church. It’s the place where transcendence becomes personal. “God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Corinthians 4:6) Without Jesus, creation is capricious. With Jesus, awe. “What is man that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:4). Does your “architecture,” like mine, need expansion?
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