I love to enter a quiet, reverent church. At mine, there is no rule at the door about being quiet, but the atmosphere sets the expectation. There is carpet down the aisles to hush the feet, and there are definitely pews in this church. Off to the sides and up at the front there are candles flickering prayers and hopes, and even a kneeling bench.

It’s the kind of place where you can hear yourself think and relax and be present to holiness. Sanctuary, safety. I wish there were more peaceful places like this where no one needs to be told to silence their phones or pray. There are no demands in this place. There is only a beckoning to be present.

But maybe we don’t need to go somewhere special. Maybe we can take that closet or clear out a little corner and put a cushy pillow, flameless tea lights, and a Bible. At one time, that grand church was built by human hands too. Maybe sanctuaries are made and not found.