In the secular West, our biggest hindrance is the lack of perceived or felt need by our neighbors—the lack of an imminent threat that wakes them up from secular slumber.
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This fall in Copenhagen, I walked in the early morning through quiet streets, past closed shops. I was looking for the Church of Our Lady, the Neoclassical cathedral of the Lutheran church in Denmark. Unlike so many other European cathedrals, this church radiates light when you step in from the narrow, darkened streets. Surrounded by statues of the apostles, when you stride down the center aisle toward Jesus behind the altar with his arms stretched down in invitation, the lanterns beckon, Post tenebras lux. After darkness, the light of the Word shone again with the Protestant Reformation.
Not long after opening, I entered the cathedral with a second visitor. Toward the front, I found a third. Tour enough European churches and you expect to find a smattering of older women at prayer. Not this time. The two other visitors were young men, native Danes, reading and praying.
