The High Cross at Fflad-y-Brenin
Celtic Christians prized “thin places,” where the boundaries between the spiritual and physical world are almost transparent. Where we can sense shimmering in the physical world the just-as-real, invisible, supernatural world, charged with the glory of God, with hills ringed with angels in chariots of fire. Could God really be more present in one place than in another? I wondered until I slowed down, calmed down, and began to experience thin places. * * * Thin places—near mountains, rivers, streams, meadows, the sea—are, in fact, often places where people have worshipped and sought God for centuries. Benedictines and Trappists often built their monasteries in such places. Is it fanciful to suppose that places in which thousands have prayed would attract the spirit of God—and angelic presences? Perhaps what happens in a pilgrimage spot is not that God descends to earth in a shower of radiance and the earth ever after exudes his fragrance. Perhaps it is we who sanctify spots of earth when we bring our weary spirits, our thwarted hopes, the whole human freight of grief, and pray—our eyes grown wide and trusting; our being, a concentrated yearning. Perhaps that yearning, that glimpse of better things, attracts the spirit of God, and traces of that encounter linger in the earth and air and water so that future pilgrims say, “God is here.” * * * I felt that when we visited Ffald-y-Brenin. There was a peace and holiness in the air. I could sense the presence of God in the stillness and especially around the high cross, placed on the highest hill of the retreat centre towering over the countryside. I gave up analysing it after a while. I surrendered to the peace. As Eliot says in “Little Gidding,” You are not here to verify, That peace, a sudden clarity of thinking and creativity? I guess I could call it the spirit of God. Healing hung in the air. Looking back at my post written there, I see I was praying for healing from self-induced adrenal fatigue. Well, seven months later, it was completely gone, and I was gulping down books again, and writing a lot. *** Just being by the ocean, watching it, listening to the roar of the waves quietens me, reminds me of immensity, of God’s infinite power, and opens me up to his spirit. I suddenly find myself praying in tongues. I pick up God’s guidance and directives most clearly on beach walks. And, as all cultures at all times have noticed, mountains are specially charged with the presence of God. They are places for peace, serenity, and elevated thoughts. In the mountains, my thoughts instinctively gravitate to God. * * * And, of course, in our own homes and lives, places become thin because we often pray there. I pray face down in my bedroom, soaking prayer, and the accustomed place and posture probably more quickly tunes my spirit to peace. I also enjoy walking and praying in the fields around my house for I live in the country. Again the accustomed routine of walking and praying makes me feel happy and exhilarated and, within a short time, I find myself praying in tongues. Thomas Merton writes about cultivating routines of prayer at the same place, and at about the same time, “My chief joy is to escape to the attic of the garden house and the little broken window that looks out over the valley. There in the silence, I love the green grass. The tortured gestures of the apple trees have become part of my prayer…. So much do I love this solitude that when I walk out along the road to the old barns that stand alone, delight begins to overpower me from head to foot, and peace smiles even in the marrow of my bones.” * * * Just we can feel stressed and uneasy by subliminal triggering memories of past trauma in certain places, or in the presence of certain people, our spirits can also swiftly be tuned to peace in places in which we have often experienced God’s spirit, on a particular seat in church, or on a particular country walk. Working in my own garden is a thin place for me. Sooner or later, joy returns. Sooner or later, I find myself praying, often in tongues. Another thin place for me is tidying up. I restore my soul as I restore my house. My body works, and feels happy working, but my mind is fallow. Clarity comes as I work, ideas. Peace returns, and I find myself praying… * * * How about you? What are the thin places in which you most powerfully experience God’s spirit? Tweetable “Thin places,” where the boundaries between the spiritual and physical world are almost transparent. From @anitamathias1 |
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Sally Roof says
The thin places for me are always in the UK, especially in Wales where my Gran was born. I experience “coincidences”, dreams which have elements of events which happen soon thereafter and a total lack of fear of death.
This has happened since my first stay at age 21 through many trips thereafter. St. Davids and the Pembrokeshire Coast are particularly spiritual places for me. Although I have experienced God closer to home and in every day life, Wales has been the location in which the veil has been most transparent.
Anita Mathias says
Hi Archer, I don't know if this is what you were thinking of, but when the Israelites conquered pagan nations, they were told to destroy everything. Aachan, for instance, was put to death for retaining some of the plunder.
I just threw a personal feeling (almost superstition) of mine about wearing jewellery of people who have been unhappy for decades. The story of the Hope Diamond for instance illustrates this. But, it is more a personal feeling, almost superstition.
There is a old retreat centre in Wales, Fflad-y-Brenin which I have visited last year, and am visiting again next year. They entreated the protection of the blood of Jesus over every room, every beam, every nook and cranny.
I am middle-aged and have been married for 23 years. So obviously, I do have things that are associated with my own sin and suffering. And I do pray for the blood of Jesus to change, redeem and transform them. And have experienced this redemption in some ways, in that I have had many my deepest spiritual experiences on a piece of furniture which had difficult, even traumatic memories associated with it.
But it is now soaked and redeemed with the blood and presence of Jesus. Hopefully our house, like the world, is becoming “crowded” with his presence.
“We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito.” C. S. Lewis
Yes, I do think we can brings things as well as ourselves to the cross, and ask God to change their meanings and significance. And turn the “curse” into a blessing!
Archer says
Hi Anita!
Great, great, great post. Isn't there somewhere in the old testament about someone having a possession that had negative associations similar to what you speak of?
Speaking of jewelry…I went to a prophetic conference once. The lady spoke out loud that someone had been holding onto some jewelry that was from an evil relationship. She described it more specifically but I'm being general because of the internet. It was totally me. I had it destroyed ASAP.
What about God redeeming negative/bad belongings, houses, or jewelry? Say, like buying things thrifted, which is the cool thing to do here in Seattle?
I'm just curious… since you have more knowledge than I… are there good examples of this concept in the Bible?
Anita Mathias says
What a lovely and priceless experience, MOLLIE!
LA, I've heard that smells powerfully evoke memories of the submerged past.
Thanks much, Na. Thanks for visiting.
Na says
That's so evocatively written ,Anita.I can sure understand the part about the jewellery one wears handed down by the mother or grandmother. I too have a favourite pair which just brings me closer to her that way .It seems to radiate a sense of peace over me.Same for the house, one can sense peace or unhappiness both as one steps in.In fact a line from some old poem, or a book under my pillow is also the catalyst to abstract thin places.God Bless! and keep writing. I enjoy your blog
LA says
My zen place is mowing the grass. Oddly enough, as such a geek as I am, I do “feel” or rather “sense” the mood of a location and/or group of people. Just like the aroma of chocolate chip cookies or the crunch of footsteps in the quiet snow the evoke a sense of the past, I think that the “smell” of particular places is powerful and largely unconscious.
Miss Mollie says
I find sometimes the thin places are not actually places, but songs, the spoken Word and just His hand on my shoulder. It cannot be duplicated, either.
Jesus presence floods the car, or the room and I cannot mistake it for anything else.
Anita Mathias says
Thank you visiting, Janet. And welcome to my blog!
Can't say I love tidying up, but when i do it, i do relax, even pray:-)
janet carter says
I appreciate your thoughts here – and agree. Your putting them into words verifies their truth. And I too share a love of cleaning – or any physical work – it seems to clear my mind and open my heart to the voice of God. Thanks so much for writing. This has become one of my favorite blogs. Truth is freeing.