Altars everywhere

Our first worship gathering of 2026 found us in fluffy fresh snow. The air was brisk but there was little wind. We gathered around a circle near the banks of Laurel Creek which was partially ice covered but still flowing. The sound of flowing water almost blocked out the sound of the traffic flowing on the expressway in the distance.

This place has become a sacred place for us. We have gathered here monthly for worship, along this particular bend in Laurel Creek, for much of the past ten. It is our sanctuary, and we have watched it change over the seasons and years. At one time, there was a dead Beech tree standing right here that was eventually cut down. The stump was left, and we used it as an altar, and the log sat just over here for years and we used it as a bench, a table, and for serving communion. This summer, it completely decayed and returned to the earth. 

In Genesis 28:16, Jacob was on a journey and stopped to sleep for the night under the stars, using a stone for a pillow. As he slept he had a dream in which God showed up and gave him a message. When he woke up in the morning he said, ' Surely, God was in this place and I didn't even know it.' And then he built an altar to honour God’s presence.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes in her book, An Altar in the World, "Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars."
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Surely, God is here in this place. And, surely there are altars everywhere.

Our invitation is to look for altars: places thick with divine possibility, something that invites you to pause and pay attention, something that makes you wonder, something that reminds you that God is present, even in the dead of winter!

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​“Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.”