Betwixt and Between

There's something fascinating about Stone Circles. I always imagine them to be towering monoliths, bigger than the surrounding landscape. But in truth most are tiny, nestled in liminal spaces (betwixt and between!) thresholds and meeting points, places that are accessible but offer two distinct views, land and sea, height and depth, valley and hill. 

This week I visited two very different circles, on very different days, in different parts of the country. The first on the cusp of counties (not that this imaginary line in the landscape would have made any sense to those who built it!) and nestled in the hillside. 

Visiting it on a day when even the sheep were hiding, the wind howled ferociously as I made my short walk to the edge of the circle. 

But then I arrived at Lune Head Circle. 

Nestled in a hollow, somewhere I assume is high up (hard to tell in horizontal sleet with low cloud/mist/more sleet ) I walked the circle, inviting the Spirit of gales and winds, the Holy and Strong One to protect me from the buffeting winds.

As I entered the circle the landscape created a tiny buffer between me and the wind. A stilling, ancient architecture at work? Coincidence? A God moment? 

Whatever the cause, the rain didn't stop, so neither did I! 

I scurried back to my car, drenched (literally dripping!) and cold, to carry on my journey. 

Days later, and hundreds of miles away,  a work trip brought me to the Froggatt Edge Circle, in glorious sunshine, and views forward and back, gentle birdsong and passing walkers and strolling friends. 

betwixt and between, this circle feels like a tunnel to travel through. 

the large stone has a bowl and someone had left a token. I walked this circle gently, inviting the Redeemer to gather me, and the Spirit of Peace to draw me close. 

Then I walked through the circle, sat for a while and wondered. What a difference weather makes, and what weather these circles have seen.

 Nobody actually knows what they are for, though many wise people guess, but to me they feel holy, places where folk met with God who Is Three and One, who creates, redeems and sustains, who draws close to us, even when we don't know their name. 

This is the God who Abram builds remembrances for at Bethel, Shechem and in Hebron by the Oaks of Mamre, places where he sensed Gods presence. People have always sensed God in the places between, the cracks and crevices as much as the crests and canyons. When we experience wonder and when we experience despair, these are often times our own barriers between self reliance and God grow thin. 

God was at work long before these stones and others like them were placed, before Abram raised his altars, before the first church was built, and God will be working still, beyond my lifetime, beyond the lifetime of any building standing, long beyond the time these stones are worn to dust. 

It can be hard to trust God is at work without us, before us and beyond us, not needing us to show people the wonder of the Divine dance, able to bring praise in times, places and people so far removed from our influence or experience.  

It can be harder still to recognise that God invites us to join in with God's work in the world, and in our lives, in the sunshine and the storm. To let go of anxiety about whether we have succeeded, and simply share the wonder of being loved beyond imagining; to respond with love beyond reason, love for God, neighbour, and self. 

Here is a place where heaven touches earth.