By Jessica Brodie
There’s a place where all the broken can come to find solace and love. There, in a once-closed church that itself now has new life, they stand together in worship — the homeless alongside those with plenty, the recovering addicts alongside those struggling to overcome a need for excess and greed, the mentally ill alongside the spiritually ill. All of them clasping hands, bowed in prayer.
The word conjures mental images: stained glass, wooden seats, an organ. It’s a church word. The space where Christians worship is called a sanctuary.
When I show up at a church building on a Sunday morning, the question I’m most ready to ask is “Where is the sanctuary?”
But being in a sanctuary is different than finding sanctuary. The challenge for today, though, is that fewer and fewer people want to know where the sanctuary is. More and more, people want to know if they can actually have sanctuary.