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 the presence of God pushing though, and thin places.
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Thin places—near mountains, rivers, streams, meadows, the sea—are, in fact, often places where people have worshipped and sought God for centuries. The air around beaches, waterfalls and mountains is rich in brain-activity boosting, depression-banishing negative ions. 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.”
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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,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid.
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.
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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.
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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.”
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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…
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“Thin places,” where the boundaries between the spiritual and physical world are almost transparent. From @anitamathias1 
a lovely post, I’ve never heard the term ‘thin places’ before – but I’ve definitely experienced them.
The first one that comes to mind for me is The Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, in Norfolk, known as England’s Nazareth. It’s a beautiful place, so many pilgrims say that they feel they’ve ‘come home’ when they visit. From the minute you arrive the rest of the world seems a million miles away and your heart gets a glimpse of Heaven – it’s a thin place and a blessed place.
I love your description of how maybe we sanctify these places with our yearning and the lingering of encounters, you’ve put in to words beautifully that powerful sense of community prayer and shared beliefs, heartaches and joys that these places hold.
Thank you.
Thank you, Bev. I would love to visit Walsingham sometime!
Thanks for sharing such a nice information. These types of places inspires people very much.
Wow. Talk of thin spaces is always inspiring.
I found my thin place at camp. I was blessed to work at 3 different camps over 10 years. By a beautiful lake in NJ, deep in the redwood trees in CA and most recently in a beautiful forest/meadow in MO. I now am blessed to work with all 130 Presbyterian Church camps across the country!
I visit thin places all the time. Ghost Ranch in the desert of New Mexico, Zephyr Point on the shore of Lake Tahoe, Albemarle on the sound in North Carolina. The list goes on. We are truly blessed to have these spaces to share, not just with kids but with adults too.
If you want to experience them, we do some wonderful spirituality retreats at Ghost Ranch. Worth looking into if you value “thin.”
I post on twitter at @pcusacamps and facebook at Presbyterian Camp and Conference Ministries. Would love to share more!
Ghost Ranch sounds amazing. Sadly, I love in England, or I would love to visit Ghost Ranch and Zephyr Point!
John Philip Newell, a Christian Spiritual leader, goes to Ghost Ranch several times a year from Scotland to lead experiences! You should catch a ride with him sometime. I know you would love it.
Beautiful post, Anita! The ocean is also a “thin” place for me. It is where I feel closest to God. I don’t know if it’s because I was a swimmer growing up, but there is something about the sound and sight of water that draws me into the Lord!
Yes! I’ve read that just the sight of the sea reduces stress. It certainly is so for me!
Blessings, Anita, this Holy Week — and Good Friday, in particular. Loved this post and totally identified with every word! I have always felt a deep kinship to the English countryside and the solitude of the glories of God’s creation there–the history there. The story of Christ in that landscape fascinates me and the Christian writings of my brothers and sisters of ancient days ignite my spirit. I’ve never been there in person–but I know that thin place. The same for the other thin places you speak of, as in my own home sanctuary. SANCTUARY!
Thanks for your words this day as I’m meditating on my Lord’s sacrificial gift on my behalf. With such disturbing headlines raging at present, I hunker down in the Shadow of His Wings. His such a thin place alone–will I knowo His peace.
Today, I believe . . .
Joy!
Kathy
Home is a sanctuary indeed! 🙂
At almost three and a half thousand metres, the air is wafer-thin. Snow feels structurally different. The sky is impossibly blue and there is a translucence between the real and the ‘other’ world, much like your ‘thin’ places, where the light of Heaven has no choice but to break through in waves of grace and laughter. One of the very few times in my life when the compulsion to worship was almost unbearable was in a setting such as this.
Wow, I hope I get a chance to see such a place before I die!
I have been intrigue by the thought of thin spots since I first heard of them. I think our prayers do make a place holy. I feel it when I travel a little north of my home to Pymatuning- a large reservoir built in the 1930’s. My father, a praying man, loved it and knew the area like the back of his hand. I grew up going there often for fun and reflection. I have in recent years incorporated their area into a prayer retreat. Peace is there for me.
A beautiful piece to inspire us. Thank you, Anita.
It sounds lovely, Mollie!
Lovely, and I couldn’t agree more.
Thanks Janet!