Hey Crashers,
Over the last few weeks, a number of people have texted or emailed asking about the same thing - a message and a thought that I shared a while back around the concept of “Thin Places”. There was a moment in time I was so struck by this thought that it consumed my thinking for a period… and now I think God is bringing it back to my attention.
Recently, we have been sharing the Old Testament covenants with our people. And over and over, I keep coming back to these sacred places where God meets man - He’s walking in a garden with Adam, calling Abraham out under a starry sky in Canaan, meeting face to face on a mountaintop with Moses, and these moments take my breath away. So I figured today on The Rhino, I would invite you into my heart, share some language, and hopefully stir your imagination, creativity, and faith this week. It seems in keeping with this time of year as we walk out Holy week, and as Easter approaches.
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Do you believe that there are places where heaven feels just a breath away?
Where the veil between the seen and unseen grows thin, and we sense the nearness of God? I’ve felt it, have you?
The ancient Celts called these places the “thin places.” They were sacred spaces where the distance between heaven and earth almost seemed to collapse in on itself. The Celts believed these places, windswept cliffs, quiet monasteries, and towering cathedrals, were charged with the presence of the Creator. The New York Times even wrote an article on them.
But is it just a mystical thought, or is there something more to it?
Scripture is rich with thin places.
Jacob, fleeing for his life, collapses in exhaustion on the ground near Bethel. As he sleeps, he dreams of a ladder stretching to heaven, angels ascending and descending between realms. Awakened by awe, he exclaims,
“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.” - Genesis 28:16.
He named the place Bethel, the “house of God,” marking it as a threshold where heaven met earth, even if just for a brief moment.
The prophets knew this experience, too. Isaiah, standing in the Temple, sees the Lord high and exalted, robes spilling into the sanctuary, the air trembling with the voices of seraphim crying…
“Holy, holy, holy.” - Isaiah 6:3.
I think Jesus himself was a thin place. He was the place where God and man collide in the most spectacular and mysterious of ways… the most ordinary of forms. But, think about the transfiguration and the crucifixion, the glowing lights and dark skies, curtains ripping open, and a declaration that “Surely he was the son of God.
Centuries later, John, exiled to the island of Patmos, sees a door standing open in heaven, Revelation 4:1, an invitation to glimpse the throne of God.
These encounters weren’t conjured or earned; they were gifts helping people to see, to really see God. The places themselves, Bethel, the Temple, Jesus, the wilderness of Patmos, all became encounters of God’s presence.
The medieval church understood this longing for transcendence. Cathedrals were built themselves as thin places, with soaring spires reaching toward heaven, stained glass refracting divine light, and the weight of centuries pressing into every stone.
Chartres Cathedral in France stands as a masterpiece of sacred architecture. Walk its labyrinth, and you step into prayer. Gaze at its rose window, and you will see Scripture illuminated in color and form. The space itself beckons you upward into the mystery of God. All designed to make a man feel small in the presence of the Almighty, evoking holy fear and wonder.
But thin places are not confined to churches. They are found in wind-rippled deserts, beneath a star-strewn sky, in the hush of early morning waves.
The poet David wrote,
“The heavens declare the glory of God” - Psalm 19:1
This verse reminds us that creation itself is a cathedral. In fact, if you want some fun this week, read about Eden being the first temple and all the symbolism of the garden that was woven into the art of the Temple and Tabernacle in Kings and Exodus - it may blow your mind.
Art, too, can become a thin place—icons painted in prayer, music that moves the soul, poetry that cracks open the heart. In fact, even this week, as we were preparing for