Stained Glass Moments

I apologize, (again), for being a little behind on my journaling, but I have kept track of my thoughts along the way. Currently I am on a 13 hour overnight train so I have a little bit of time to kill. Lyon; the city on the hill. I traveled from south France to the center of the country for my last french stop. Lyon didn’t immediately strike me as a French paradise. When I arrived, it was raining very hard and the city had a dark feel to it. Maybe it was the cloudy sky and dark corners, but I didn’t feel entirely safe walking to my hostel. Immediately I wished I had picked a different city for my last stop in France. I took the evening to recoup from my long nights in Barcelona. I did laundry and organized my backpack. (This is an essential part of back packing by the way! Organization, organization, organization.) The next day, I began my journey up the hill. A river runs straight through Lyon creating a natural division of the city. On one side, it is flat and building heavy and on the other, a large hill towers toward the sky freckled with brick houses. At the top of the hill sits a famous cathedral called Fourvière. I had read about the view from the top so it was on my list to reach it. As I began my ascent, I quickly entered into a large bunch of trees that I later learned were the gardens of the church. The stairs that climbed the hill were covered in vines creating a very mystical feeling. Statues of Jesus and other saints stood at random corners like concrete guardians. Eventually I reached a rose garden that had arches made entirely of roses and iron. Each arch was that of a different rose, representing the rosary. As I walked under each metal arrangement, I felt like I was entering a magical kingdom. At this point I had climbed hundreds of steps so the view past the arch ways was already beyond beautiful. The entirety of Lyon and the river were sprawled out before me like a painting. I sat for a moment in the cool morning air and felt at peace. I finally reached the top of the hill where the ancient cathedral stood. It was truly massive and beautiful both inside and out. I was surprised to see so many people walking into the cathedral as my climb to the top had been pretty empty. And then suddenly, it hit me; it was Sunday. For some odd reason I totally forgot a cathedral was still a church no matter how famous it was. This was the congregation! I followed the crowd and tried to fit in as I received my bulletin. I sat towards the back in a wooden pew and stared in awe at the towering columns leading to the ornate ceiling. The sounds of the organ echoed off the walls and filled the air with a glorious tone. The whole scene was absolutely breathtaking. I was about to exit when the priest entered and the choir started to sing. Their voices rang out through the pews and beaconed me to stay. Although everything was entirely in French, I became deeply enthralled in the service. I tried to sing along if I found the hymn they were on, but even when I became totally lost, I still enjoyed their prayers and responses. I somehow felt the meaning of the words beyond the language barrier. Maybe it was the setting the church was in or the way the stain glass windows covered the ground in rainbows, but either way I felt called to stay and linger with the Lord. When I woke up that day, I didn’t think I would have such a religious experience. Lyon had seemed dirty and unsafe when I arrived the night before so my standards for the day were far from a walk with Jesus. But that’s always when he finds us, isn’t it? I was starting to feel alone and worn down from the life of solo traveling, but I pushed past the thoughts because I was in another country! I was traveling! I was living the dream! I felt I could not allow these negative feelings to live in my head when I was living such an amazing life, but God knew the weight on my heart. He knew I needed to be refreshed and reminded that I am NEVER alone. I guess I just find it amazing that after so many years of religion, I am still surprised he knows me better than I know myself. I’ll remember that service in the cathedral on the hill forever... and I hope I carry God in my heart beyond the ivory walls of a church. Golden statues and painted ceilings are a great way to remember the glory of God, but a stained glass heart knows no limits.