Momentary Sanctuaries

attending the beauty of God

Life aches. I don’t know any other way to say it. It doesn’t matter how neat and tidy the lines have fallen around you, how padded your bank account, how magazine-ready your house, how perfectly-posed the family photo on your wall, how certain the probability of your dreams coming true. Things will happen, and likely soon, that will cause you to rethink the value of everything. Structures that seemed like the very foundation of your life will crumble. They are crumbling already. Do you feel them trembling? Life is hard. And trouble is a promise.

But God has given us the ability to build a solid structure in a moment, with a breath. A momentary sanctuary from the troubles of this world. We do it by attending to His presence, which is all around us, everywhere, at all times. Stop. Step outside and use your eyes. Let them see His goodness in the hummingbird that hovers. Let wonder build walls around you like a holy cathedral. Allow the irridescent green and ruby of a little bird to reflect the shimmering, shining light of God’s presence like stained glass. Take a breath and tune your senses to the God who gave the hummingbird a heartbeat. Though you cannot heart it, let it make its music. Attend. See. Witness the beauty of God. And let it lead you to worship him.

In the middle of a million questions, when motherhood has left you feeling small and insignificant, when you feel that all your dreams are buried somewhere at the bottom of the laundry pile, sure never to be unearthed again… Stop for a moment. Attend to the boy who is walking by with sticky hands and a diaper that needs changing. Forget the mess and endless work and take that child up in your arms. Look in his eyes and get lost in a grand sanctuary of God’s love. How deep do those eyes go? They go all the way back to the very presence of God who knit him together in your womb. The most beautiful wonder, the purest hope that can be seen in this world shines forth from the eyes of a child. Bask in it. Rest in it. Let the love of God wash over you as you make a connection—eye to eye, heart to heart, deep to deep. Attend. See. Witness the beauty of God. And let it lead you to worship him.

On waking from a sad dream where you are once again losing someone you lost, let your eyes open in the dark. Cry. Let your tears build a cathedral around you. An open space where you can sit and thank God for the beauty of this life and the life to come. Turn your attention from your grief to the God who says these words: blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Sit at the altar, and allow the comfort of God to flicker like a candle, to wrap around you like a prayer shawl. Let him speak peace over you. Leave your sorrows at the altar. Find the strength to stand and sing a hymn of thanks for the gift of earthly love, which is only a shade of the True Love he offers with open hands. Take the bread and the wine of his presence. Attend. Taste. See. Witness the beauty of God. And let it lead you to worship him.

When you feel lost and shaken, earth-quaking around you, stop. Attend to the beauty of God. Let your worship be here, now, even in the midst of the ache and suffering. Where is awe? Where is wonder? Where is gratitude? Find them, and you will find the raw materials to build a momentary sanctuary. A place to hide till storms pass, a place to rest when your heart is restless, where the candle of hope is always alight, where your soul can sing in the middle of the darkest night.

Dear friends,

I pray peace and hope over your lives today, and that you will find a way to build a momentary sanctuary in the midst of the heartache, the busyness, and chaos of this world.

Love,

Mackenzie

From the Blog:

The Memory and Promise of Light

(This post from February 2022 seems connected to today’s letter. “Hope is not blind. Even in the deepest of darks, it discerns the next step. When there is no step illuminated, hope sees by the mere memory of light. We look back to remember God’s faithfulness, and in this turning backward, we are moving forward by the sight of faith.”)

From the Family Archive:

Randy’s song that we recorded about a year ago (I was six months pregnant at the time.)

My Book:

Now available wherever you buy books online.

Journal With Me:

Look for the second chapter of Journaling Your Way to the Sacred Everyday dropping soon. This first draft-in-progress of my new book is available to paid subscribers here on Substack as well as supporters on Patreon. I would love to journal with you!

Also, becoming a paid subscriber is the best way to support my work and our family. Though we have other jobs as well, we count on substack and Patreon support as part of our monthly budget in order to live the kind of life where we can take whole days to write and work on music. I cannot say thank you enough to those of you who have chosen to participate in the miraculous exchange where these words put food on my family’s table. It means more than you will ever know.