26 August 2025
[Note: This article was originally written as a reflection essay as part of my studies for seminary. I share it here in its entirety for anyone who might gain spiritual insight or just for your enjoyment. – JM]
Two Chapels, Two Messages of Love
Yesterday, I was blessed with the opportunity to make a small pilgrimage to Sedona and its surrounding areas with my partner LeeAnn. This journey became not only an encounter with the beauty of God’s creation, but also a moment of deep renewal for my faith, vocation and spiritual studies.
The red rocks of Sedona themselves speak of eternity. Rising from the earth in striking reds and oranges, they seem to form a natural cathedral—weathered yet majestic, silent yet filled with a voice that draws the soul toward awe. Against this sacred landscape stands the Chapel of the Holy Cross, a striking testimony of human faith set amidst the grandeur of nature. Its design appears to grow from the very rock, a reminder that our prayers and works of faith are not separate from creation, but rooted in it.
At the entrance of the Chapel stands the immense image of Christ Crucified on the Tree of Life. The sculpture is both arresting and consoling: Christ’s suffering is present, but so too is the symbol of renewal, as the cross itself becomes the living tree. Entering within, I was immediately surrounded by the glow of countless candles. Their trembling light seemed like a visible cloud of prayer rising before God.
Here, I lit candles and offered prayers—for the Ascension Alliance, the Ascension Theological Seminary, its leadership, clergy, and communities, those for whom I was asked to pray, and for the Shrine of Holy Wisdom in Tempe, which has become my home parish and the place where my vocation is nurtured. I also lifted before God the needs of my family and LeeAnn’s family, both living and departed, and I prayed for strength, guidance, and balance in my own studies. This moment touched me deeply as it bridged the Catholic piety of my childhood—so present in the sight of candles, statues, and chapels—with the interspiritual openness of my present journey. It felt as though the two streams of my life—past and present—met in harmony.
The small prayer grotto outside the Chapel, with its statues of the Guardian Angel and Saint Francis with the birds, reminded me of God’s gentle care. They spoke of guardianship and reverence for creation, echoing the lessons of my seminary studies: that ministry is rooted not only in service to people but also in harmony with all that God has made.
From the Chapel we went downstairs to the Gift shop where we picked up small remembrances of this adventure including a small cross which contained a mustard seed inside of it and a prayer card of Our Lady of Victory. Although this was not our original intention and we had another plan in mind, these would serve as the perfect items for the little ritual we had wanted to perform. We were going to go to a different, more popular section of Oak Creek within Slide Rock State Park, just north of Sedona, however, on the way we instead felt called to stop at a different spot called Grasshopper Point, where I sought the healing presence of running water. This spot was out of the way and not as traveled, so the quiet and the solitude were just what we were looking for. We had a beautiful picnic lunch under the trees and then headed toward the creek.
The trek through the wooded canyon, over uneven rocks, forced me to pay attention to balance with every step. This became a meditation: life and ministry require the same attentiveness to balance—between work and rest, study and prayer, contemplation and action. At moments I faltered, but I was supported by LeeAnn’s steady presence, reminding me that none of us journeys alone. Our steps are strengthened by the physical companionship of those beside us, and the spiritual prayers of those who hold us in their hearts.
At the creek, I removed my shoes and stood in the rushing water. The current was cool and gentle, a flowing embrace of God’s creation. As I stood there, surrounded by the beauty of the canyon and forest, I felt a deep peace—a reminder of God’s providence and gentleness. I picked up a small piece of jasper from the water as a sign of this experience, a tangible reminder that God’s grace flows constantly, and that it is my task to remain open to its movement.
Not ready to end the pilgrimage, we traveled north to Flagstaff and visited the Chapel of the Holy Dove. This humble wooden chapel carries its sanctity not in grandeur, but in simplicity. Every surface within—walls, altar, lectern, even the window sills—are covered in “graffiti” in the form of prayers, names, and words of thanksgiving left by pilgrims before me. What might at first seem like defacement, I experienced as consecration: the wood itself has become a living litany of human hearts lifted to God. The suspended cross before the great glass window, overlooking the open field, stands as a reminder that Christ is at the center of all these offerings.
Together, LeeAnn and I prayed once more for the Ascension Alliance, the Seminary, its leadership and clergy, and for all who seek its life-giving presence. In a symbolic act of faith, we buried the mustard-seed cross and prayer card behind the chapel’s altar, asking God to let this offering become a prayer for growth. Just as a mustard seed becomes a tree, may the Alliance and Seminary grow in strength and love, watered by the prayers of its members and blessed by God’s grace.
This pilgrimage has renewed within me a sense of gratitude, balance, and purpose. In the grandeur of Sedona’s rocks, the stillness of chapels, the rushing of water, and the prayers of faithful hearts, I have felt God’s presence profoundly. I return strengthened in my resolve: to live in service, to study with diligence, to balance my life with faithfulness, and to root my ministry in love.
