Iron Gate at Chaindon Church

It had been a long two weeks, and my nerves were frazzled no end. I could feel the tingles crawling over my scalp as fatigue overtook me; the double espresso I'd just downed having really no effect at all.

As I drove home from the hospital, my eyes fell upon this ancient church I've long wished to visit. High up on a grassy knoll, half surrounded by towering, regal trees, it stands as a beacon... but of what I couldn't say. I found myself turning left at the intersection, driving up into green fields and pulling the car to a stop. There were people at home who needed me - but at this moment, I needed me more. I needed the silence of wind whispering through trees, the eery calm of an empty, seemingly desolate cemetary.

I will share more pictures with you this week - snapshots of an inner revival and utter peace.