Last spring, on the one-year anniversary of the fire that nearly destroyed the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, my thoughts returned to that sad day. Watching the flames on TV, I recalled a Sunday morning 23 years earlier when I stood next to the altar of that great cathedral and, along with my college alumni glee club, sang the music for the service. The emotions ran deep.
Our houses of worship have come to have meanings as diverse as the people who enter them. For me, on that morning in that magnificent edifice, as we sang beneath those soaring columns, I felt a special kinship with those who had been there before me through the centuries. Surely many of them, like me, had brought their own prayers of worship to our heavenly Father.
As I recalled that special day, I also began to see that flames couldn’t extinguish that longing for a deeper understanding of God and of how to serve Him better.
