May I never lose the wonder

 Of my Savior crucified. 








           Traveling and sight seeing in Europe always brings me this strange sense of nostalgia, especially in relation to my faith. Not only is everything old here, but everything is deeply rooted in a history long existing.  My faith is also rooted here, from the Blue Ridges to the Alpine peaks my faith has been born and grown. Those words, "Les, he has cancer," will always tie me to this place. Along with the days of memories that have been made here: teaching english to crazy teenies, traveling the country, scripture reading at DASS camp, star gazing outside the Adelboden chalet, falling in love, babysitting sweet kids, and now taking care of Opa. 

         But these things so personal to me and my walk with God are all stripped away when I step one foot into the historical cathedrals that remain in Europe after centuries of war torn land and people. To learn about the history in these cities is overwhelming enough, and then to realize the faith that has still survived-it is a miracle in itself.

        One foot inside the giant wooden doors, my soul melts to the floor and suddenly I feel so small, even nonexistent. The only thing that remains in focus is the giant cross before me and the stain glass around me-telling the story of the life and death of Jesus Christ.

    

          Lord may I never lose the wonder, of my Savior crucified. Somehow this place, these ancient buildings still standing, tie me back to you. Back to what existed even long before these beautiful cathedrals were built. The life, the death, the resurrection, of my Savior.


A candle, a prayer. May I never lose the wonder of my Savior crucified.

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