Hemmed in by the Tide: Holy Island and the HOP

April 10, 2013

Friday was for Lindisfarne. This is something I'd been looking forward to so much. I saw the island of Lindisfarne from a train window on a return trip from Edinburgh in 2008. Something about it captured my imagination, before I even knew what it was. When I found out about the island, I knew I had to go there. It is a place majorly associated with Celtic Christianity. If you've heard of Aiden or Cuthbert (the Fire of the North!), or the Lindisfarne Gospels (similar to the book of Kells), you can associate them with Holy island.

I was pleased to ride in a car with three people a little older than me: Corey, Adam, Becky. And I was privileged for the two men to share their amazing testimonies with me. They were both radically converted after experiencing the love and power of the Father. I was nearly in tears.

On the way, we stopped near a castle in the town of Bamburgh. (Say it as you would Edinburgh.) Though the castle is in Bamburgh, it is NOT called Bamburgh Castle. This is what a man passionate about the truth told us as we unfolded from our vehicles. I will carry on his campaign to get it known by its real name, whenever I remember what that was.

We walked past the castle to the beach, where we engaged in intercessory prayer, speaking more life over this land that used to burn with the fire of God. It was cold, so cold, and windy. Yet Tom walked around our circle, barefoot and praying.

Because Lindisfarne is connected to the mainland by a tidal causeway, we had to get going. Once we got there, we only had about an hour before the tide would come in and strand us for the night. (I wouldn't have minded that.) We spent some time in St Mary's church. We brought some Nashville into the chapel by singing hymns. It was beautiful because we are all good to great singers, and we love to worship. Some tourists wandered in and thought we were part of their tour.

We then went to the beach, where Cuthbert was known to stand waist-deep in the water, praying for hours. Otters are said to have swum around him, to provide warmth as he prayed. Several in our group took the opportunity to take off their shoes and socks, roll up their jeans, and wade in up to their ankles or calves, standing in prayer for a few minutes. (I was not one of them. It was cold.) One of our group, Jen, went a step further. Rather, several steps further. We watched our tall, red headed warrior wade out nearly to her waist, raise her hands in prayer, and stay longer than any of them. Because of the tide, we had to call her back. Who knows how long she would have stayed otherwise?

I needed much more time on Lindisfarne. It was hard to not explore, to not seek quiet. I wanted so badly to take off with my camera, to see what was there and to meditate. Despite the interesting experiences, I left the island disappointed for that reason. Well, all I could do was ask God to take me back there. I think I will return.

It was interesting to see the waters rush in to the causeway as we left. It was much faster than I would have expected. On the drive back, we saw lots of newborn black lambs. I probably made lots of high-pitched noises about them.

That night, we went to the House of Prayer (HOP). It is worship and prayer- again, mostly intercessory for the land. Pastor Lois asked us Americans to come up and pray for their children, and then she asked us to sing one of the songs we had sung in the chapel that day. At that point, something broke for me. I spent the rest of the night lost in worship and the goodness of God. I had really been struggling with some personal issues, even right before the HOP service began. But whatever He did in me that night, I know I wasn't the same the next day.