Your house, O Lord,
has no walls
no rooms for prayer
no attic for memories
no basement for secrets
Your house, Lord
is an opening
cut through the rocks of fear
carved out of layers of shield
all door, all window
all welcome.
This is a refuge:
a place of rest
a time of spirit
a garden of prayer
You do not protect or shelter us
from threats and danger
You sit with us, al fresco
outside our ordinary resistances
You meet us in the wine and bread
as friend, with song and story
You turn our refuge into a home to share.
—Wendy Jean MacLean
Where do you find refuge? Where are the openings in your life that make a home for God?
