There is a little chapel in the Redwoods. It is deep in the forest along a narrow, off-the-beaten-path trail. Tucked underneath a canopy of clustered old-growth trees, the forest has accepted the chapel as one of its own, the way it is sheltered and hidden away. The silence of this little grove is like a holy hush as only nature and the Divine speak here.

Gentle, filtered light bathes the steep roof, highlighting the moss and lichen that cover it.

Tall stained-glass windows with cracked and weathered wooden sills welcome the sunrise in the East. The light casts a holy glow of muted purples, blues, and reds along the simple wooden pews and the rough-hewn altar.

Hand-carved double doors, slightly off-kilter, creak in welcome to the one who enters.

His Spirit dwells here in this simple, hidden chapel; a palpable presence of sacred mystery. Those who seek refuge, peace, and rest find it—a Divine invitation. Hurts are healed and tears are caught, wounds are bound, and answers sought. Holy breath speaks life and rebukes those things that have no place here. This is holy ground.

Ahhh, the things these old trees have seen and heard as weary wanderers discover the little chapel in the woods. They are drawn by Divine whispers and the need to find solace and love, the need to find Him. Chains breaking, hearts mended, victory shouted, and deep pain healed. Nature and the Divine intertwined in a holy and sacred dance of healing and peace. The Healer enthroned in a simple old chapel nestled in the midst of His creation.