The Lord is a Strong Tower

I’m looking out the window in my room on the top floor of the Durham Castle keep. One hundred and twenty six steps take me up to this view, a view that looks out across the palace green to Durham Cathedral. Together, the castle and the cathedral sit high above the town surrounded on three sides by the River Wear. From the river bank, the cathedral towers loom overhead, growing out of the surrounding trees, pushed into melancholy skies by dark and weathered sandstone.

Entering into the cathedral, I find myself in a great stone forest. Massive pillars surround me, their sides bearing stonemason’s scars, their tops branching out into stone vaults high above. This is an old forest, some 900 years old, and it isn’t ashamed to show its age. It’s youthful parts have more flourishes and adornments, a testament to exuberance and vitality, but against the simple, solid forms of the older sections they seem ostentatious and distracting. I find wisdom among the simple stone. I find comfort in the stillness and strength.

And within this forest the Spirit moves. Along the cloister walkways dozens of crosses posed in semaphore spell out the last words of Christ. Images of God’s incarnation and intervention are found in glass, wood, and oil in every nook and cranny. Behind the High Altar is buried St. Cuthbert, a man who continues to this day to draw others towards Christ. The Celts spoke of “thin places,” places where the separation between heaven and earth was thinner than usual. Cuthbert spent his time in one of those thin places during his life and I believe he now rests in another.

This is my favorite cathedral. Its mere presence is humbling and quieting. When I leave, I leave with peace, a smile, and a brighter and surer view.

Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you, 
I call as my heart grows faint;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge, 
a strong tower against the foe.
I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

- Psalm 61:1-4