Early the next morning, before the sunrise, he (Jesus) left and found a quiet, out-of-the-way place to be alone and to pray. (Mark 1:35, First Nations Version)
If you were to traverse into the woods a few minutes from our house you’d come to a hand carved sign that reads Solas Uaine (sul-uss oo-in-ya). It’s Gaelic for place of green light. Once you pass though the natural tree arch where that sign is located, you’d see a simple bench and eight stones laid out to delineate the cardinal and intercardinal directions. There’s a center stone that acts as the hub of the eco-wheel. An aspen and birch forest surrounds this space except for a small clearing to the north that overlooks a large pond about a hundred yards away.
I have lovingly tended this space. I have prayerfully encircled those stones more times than I can count. It is a place where some of my deepest prayers and contemplations have occurred. It’s where some of my heaviest tears have watered the earth. It’s a place where my feet have been stirred to dance with profound joy. It is a space where I don’t have to speak, but merely listen. This wild threshold of God has been a container space for my soul’s metamorphosis. Simply put, this is my “thin space,” my place apart where I have had numinous encounters with God’s Spirit, embedded in the womb of God’s creation.
No more was that evident than when we made the decision to suspend our camp programs the summer of 2020. I knew that the pandemic was forcing us into a liminal space so I realized that I should make the most of it while I had the time. Drawing on the inspiration of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah; I set out to be at Solas Uaine for at least four hours a day, for forty days. All that I permitted myself to have during that time were my prayer beads, journal, and Bible. This intentional act of cultural deprivation gave me some of the most visceral encounters and journal entries with the Spirit that has ever been known to me. It has helped to reframe certain aspects of my life and ministry. It renewed and strengthened me in ways that I could not have imagined.
The Gospels don’t use words like liminality or thin space. Yet I have come to believe that is precisely what was happening in those very brief narrative passages where Jesus goes off by himself to a place apart to pray or to get away from the crowds. It’s clear that Jesus is intentionally creating some form of a liminal (or thin) space where he can refresh and reinvigorate his ministry and mission. Jesus had his own version of Solas Uaine. He sought the solace of the wilderness, the sea, the mountain, and the garden. He knew God’s wisdom came in these encounters and sought them out intentionally. He was drawing on an eco-blueprint as old as creation itself.
(Written for Skyridge Church of the Brethren (Kalamazoo, MI) 2023 Lenten Devotional Series)
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