“You know the old story. A guy walks into a church and begs God for something. No answer. Another ten thousand people do the same thing. Another ten million. God is apparently busy with other matters and does not reply to them either. Here comes someone in need, just there to sweep the floor, too humble and meek to ask for a toothpick, much less anything else. Boom. His secret prayers are answered. Why? Perhaps because the space was conditioned by the millions of petitions of others. All those pleas of desperation from the believers who had gone before him had left a memory in the space.”
This excerpt from the book Full of Grace intrigued me because it reminded me of my love of holy and sacred places; not the places we are told are holy and sacred, but the ones that we feel are. I’ve gone to and into places that seemed permeated with prayer, permeated with people’s glimpses of holiness and goodness. I’ve found these feelings within small churches, at the red rocks of Sedona, at a museum in Cambridge, a garden in Memphis, a church in New Orleans, a forest in Georgia, a tall ship in Key West, and an empty tomb in Jerusalem. I’ve come to know them as bits of home, bits of peace, bits of holiness, and bits of God in many different places. The places are permeated with bits of my higher self.
What about you?
CITE: Excerpt from Full of Grace by Dorthea Benton Frank