In the quiet sanctuary, the holy place where the Divine dwells, we find rest for our troubled souls. Here we sit, too broken to stand. Here we stretch out prostrate at His feet. Weary of heart. Weary of mind. Just plain weary! Here we cry out. Our voice cannot form words. Here we pour out our lament. I lay my messy grief and unrestrained sorrow at His feet. He does not flinch at my uncouth offering. He does not pull away from the mess of my heart. Here, in the presence of Christ, I am seen. Here, in this holy sanctuary, I am heard. My heart is so full of…