A cat behind an electric box, peering out on the squirrel playing in the yard, seems as if it is just perfectly content in the moment. A tiny little spotted doe stands in the back yard, eating corn. Her ears are showing that she is watchful, but not overly fearful. At the corner of the flower bed, cardinals started a nest in the bird house that is tucked into the red bud tree. A friend’s house, where a welcome is real and ever present. The quiet of a morning with coffee in hand standing outside as the dog’s go out and greet the day.
If the Church is the followers of Christ, then is this all the sanctuary? Is the space where the tiniest of lightning bugs dance through the night part of the dazzling light display put on by the stars a part of the glory of the sanctuary? The world around us contains such beauty, little spaces with the ruffles of marigold blooms and giant spaces of mountains and canyons. I can’t think of a more fitting sanctuary, vast and grand and alive.
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