One cool evening I stood forlorn in the shadows of Waterloo Street between a synagogue and a church. To my left The Star of David beckoned from its facade while on my right a cross stared down indifferently from its highest steeple. And in the middle reigning high above us all, a sheltering night. I’d go with the synagogue but the Lord looked down from the grey and smiled. I laughed to hear in my spirit, ‘Neither. For mine is a temple not made by man!’ Tears rolled in the looming shadows, in the silent night, indwelt by the Great I AM.