Same Church, Different Pew

     I nagged my husband to stop in Sedona, Arizona.  I heard that the red rocks were beautiful and that the energy of the place was strong. We drove into the valley and then we saw it: The Chapel of the Holy Cross.

     It is a breathtaking chapel built into the rocks. You enter from the back. The front of the chapel is made of glass.  You look past the altar and out at the valley of rock and sky. The interior has simple wooden benches. My husband kneeled and looked deep in thought and prayer. I sat down and had a humbling, profound realization: The side trip was not about me at all. I was the catalyst, but not the reason.

     Fast forward to this Easter Sunday. My men are less than enthusiastic about organized religion. I could have coerced them to go to church, but that felt wrong. If I really believe that each person must form their own relationship to the Divine, I have to let God's time and ways prevail. We want our relationships with people to be authentic. How much more important is a genuine relationship with the Creator?
     When I returned from church,  My husband was watching Music and the Spoken Word by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I joined him and it was deeply moving. Modern Christian rock doesn't resonant with my spouse; it doesn't have to. The concert finished with Handel's Messiah. We watched in stunned, reverent silence.
     There is one God, but many ways to see his face. Today I am praying that each of us discovers their own personal hallelujah. Happy Easter!