In God’s House

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on here (for which I apologise, to anyone who has been checking back). I’m currently on holiday, and after spending a some time this evening contemplating my theme choice (yes, it has changed – again), I thought it pertinent to add a post as well, whilst I’m here.

We’re staying in Sitges for our break (lovely place, for anyone who hasn’t been) and spent the day today over in Barcelona, where our friends took us to see the Sagrada Familia – the city’s Basilica, as yet still unfinished, that was designed and detailed by Antoni Gaudi.

I can safely say I have never in my life been in a building that filled me with such a sense of awe. The structure (which as yet, is unfinished) is truly stunning – I would recommend anyone who finds themselves in the city to make time to go and see it. The museum, too, is amazing, but it was the basilica itself that really reached out and touched my heart. The scale is monumental, the use of colour beautiful, and yet the statuary, whilst often far beyond (physical) reach, is incredibly personal.

As I walked through the main hall, it suddenly struck me that, aside from drinking in the visual bounty before me, there was something obvious I should do. I was, after all, in a church.

I was in God’s house, it seemed rude not to talk to him.

Any who know me will know that I have my faith, though it takes a very personal form. It was one of the signs, which they have at the entrance, and beside the cordoned off pews where you are invited to sit, that did it. In simple, polite terms, they remind visitors that this is a place of worship, where people come to contemplate in peace, and ask you respect that. Reading them, I was jolted out of the tourist mind-frame, into that of a believer, visiting another’s house of prayer. It therefore seemed rude not to pay my respects.

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