The Chapel On Main St.

It's going to be close to 4 months before I step foot again in this city that I simultaneously both love and hate, so as I woke up this morning I felt an acute sense of heaviness on my soul, realizing that today was the day of departure.

Somehow, it seems to me a landmark day.

A closed door on a friendship and relationship gone awry.

Other friendships - especially those from my soccer community - seemingly nearing the end of their cycle.

Yet more friendships, from previous years, now distant both in time and closeness.  Friends get married.  They have children.  They move.  They change jobs, interests, schedules.  Hurtful thoughts and words - spoken or unspoken.  Some friends even changed their faith.  Each of these factors was like a tiny wedge separating us.  I wonder if it had to happen like this or if there is something I could have done to keep relations alive.

But there have been other changes.

Profound spiritual and social alienation from my faith community and denomination.

Vocational disappointments and letdowns.

Rain.  Dark clouds.

And cultural alienation, too.

So when I left this city this morning, a strong sense of finality was in the air.  Next time I come west, is there even a reason to come to Vancouver?  Should I just stay with family in Abbotsford?  Why bother coming to a place that has turned its back on me?

As I began driving to Abbotsford, I was on 12th Street, when just west of Main, I was reminded of the beautiful chapel that I used to go to semi-frequently.  When things were rough - 2001-2, 2006, and the 6 months before my move to the prairies in 2013 - I came here often, sometimes daily, to pray, to sit in silence, to lament and weep, to read the Bible, to just gaze at the cross.

My whole being jumped for joy at the prospect of stopping here again today.  So I did.  To mark the end of an era, perhaps.

I sat.  Silent.  Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The cross.  The quietly burning flame.  The Presence.

I sat nearly motionless for close to 30 minutes.  Tears.

And then I got up, bowed before my Lord, did the sign of the cross, and left.

In a city where much is transient, this little chapel is the constant.  In a city where I often felt alone, the Saviour always met me here, clasping his scarred hands around me, and around the world.