Iona 1 (Monday)

Iona 1 (Monday)

Saturday was a long day, a very long day mostly in a small coach from Herefordshire up to the wee island of Iona.  Actually the journey went well, reading my college books passed the time well enough and I would look up whenever we stopped at services surprised by how far up we had got.

Up past Loch Lomond, and across the countryside beyond the reading was set aside in favour of the views (and reading on windy roads is not as easy as on the motorway!) The ferry to Mull and a drive across it in pouring rain uncertain if the Iona ferry would be running (we had been warned it might not)followed by a rocky crossing and then we were here. Iona. The Thin Place. The place of pilgrimage and prayer.

So here I am, I worshipped at the Abbey on Sunday morning, wandered around a couple of shops in the midst of day visitors pouring on and off the ferry and after lunch sat out on the secluded shore behind the house with a novel before retreating in from the cold wind. Today I have been back to the Abbey for the historical tour.

I am enjoying the space, the retreat from normal life, and the beautiful rugged scenery – but I don’t get the wonder or awe that people claim for this place.  Maybe it is the pressure of the expectations people put on this place, too much talk of sacredness attached to one particular part of God’s creation.

Come for the island beauty, come for the history – but we must look for the thin places where we are, and find the stillness in ourselves.  Maybe the point of a pilgrimage is to travel far and wide to discover that God was there at home, and to return with that knowledge.