Flashbacks to York, England

Today was a little chilly and misty and reminded me of York, England. The day we were there in November was just like this, so I’m having flashbacks. What better way to soothe the “I wish I were there,” doldrums than looking back over the pictures. I hope you don’t mind this little indulgence of mine.

River Ouse, Yorkshire England
River Ouse, Yorkshire England

This was one of our first sights, as we drove into this quaint and ancient town.

Bridge of the River Ouse
Bridge of the River Ouse
York Minster
York Minster
York Minster Naive
York Minster Naive

I’ve heard that some people find it difficult to worship in places like this. That it feels cold and impersonal. Not to me. The beauty and height of the naive makes me think of heaven. The formality of the space, reminds me that God is GOD, and HE sits on a throne, high and lifted up, with angels singing “Holy, Holy, Holy.”

Cathedral Windows of York Minster
Cathedral Windows of York Minster

As we left the church, we ventured down some side streets.

Side street in York.
Side street in York.

I would love to walk down this street again and feel the damp air on my face. It was here and Edinburgh that I felt most at home.

Narrow Streets
Narrow Streets

The narrow streets give me pause to think about what it would have been like in horse and carriage days. The streets were just wide enough for a horseman and his wares. Wide is the way… but narrow is the path.

Looking Back at the Minster.
Looking Back at the Minster

I have to think that God approves of us “looking back” at places that are spiritual markers in our lives. I wish I could have spent more time in the Minster, perhaps knelt, and imagined Him on His throne with 24 elders surrounding Him. I don’t know why this scene makes me think so strongly of heaven, but it does. If the streets were gold and the sky were blue, it would make more sense. But, people are riding their bikes, driving their cars, it is misting rain and I’m headed back to the bus.

Path to the River
Path to the River

And the last thing I see, before I see the bus, is this lone man lighting a cigarette; as he walks by the river, away from the Minster.

Leave a Comment