Sacred Spaces

My friend was at home, mending after some colon surgery. “The doctor gave me pictures of it. I don’t want to look at them, and I’d never show them to anybody else. But you probably like that stuff. Do you want to see them?”

She guessed right. And shuffled into her office for the file.

Looking at the endoscopic photographs, I felt admiration for a doctor who could open constrictions and provide relief for someone. But it was the image of a healthy section of the colon that riveted my attention.

A living tube.

And I was seeing it from the inside. I wanted to speak to this fascinating organ, “I’ve heard about you, read about you, marveled at all you do. But there you are. Now I see you.” Amazing. Holy.

Who engineers any waterworks with this efficiency?

Last month I took my daughter to a Valentine’s/President’s Day party in the park. The kids were playing freeze tag on the playground. A zig. A zag. A zip. And then Bryn tripped and dented the concrete with her head.

By evening on this holiday weekend (ugh), she was checking enough symptom boxes that I decided a trip to the ER would be prudent for evaluation. The doctor felt that a CT scan was needed to rule out bleeding on the brain.

Grateful for both the peace that I felt through the process and for the good report at the end, I received another gift of the ordeal through the radiologist.

A mom herself, she answered my questions and concerns as I weighed risks and benefits of the procedure. And she had compassion on a suddenly frightened child. She let me suit up with the lead apron and stand beside Bryn during the scan, where Bryn could hear me praying and speaking Scripture verses over her as she slid in and out of the doughnut-shaped machine.

When we finished, she asked if we wanted to see the pictures. I think she did it in hopes of interesting a new generation in her field of study. But it was for me—This was my on-ramp of worship in the corner of a medical facility.

I gazed in wonder at my daughter’s beautiful brain. I see the evidence of its fascinating work every day, but now I saw the brain itself. Gray matter, white matter, ventricles. How it fit so perfectly behind her face in a protective skull that won against concrete.

 Who establishes any worldwide network with this complexity and resilience?

One day I had sat with another mom in the ICU next to her infant. A technician wheeled in a machine for an echocardiogram to check for any heart abnormalities. Soon I was glued to a movie screen of this little boy’s heart.

To watch the valves flutter open and closed with each contraction left me speechless. This was not file footage. I was witnessing in real time the beating masterpiece of a baby I deeply cared about. This tiny heart marched in perfect synchronicity with a phenomenal design.

Who choreographs any dance with this grace?

In all three cases I felt I stood on holy ground. Privileged and almost unworthy to be looking at images I shouldn’t be able to see. Yet I experienced the gift of this sight. Look what He has made! So intricate, brilliant, complex, precious.

And that’s the body. If I had eyes to see the human soul and spirit in a similar fashion, I’d probably faint from the beauty of what He composes.

He creates sacred spaces. More astounding, He inhabits these sacred spaces. The Almighty frequents these hallowed halls and sets up His living space in these cloistered chambers. These are temple grounds. His Spirit, dwelling in us. His Spirit, connecting with us in the deepest parts.

For, and from, the mystery of these sacred spaces I worship Him in profound awe.