The Vor Frue Kirke, or Church of Our Lady in Copenhagen, sits on a small street in the center of the old town, and has a fairly plain exterior with few garnishes and flourishes.
The architectural lines inside are simple as well, with the central nave flanked by the twelve apostles, each holding its attribute. No stained glass here, and the main altar lies far in front, the gilded wall behind the Christus the only brilliance, so the eye is drawn there by the use of light and color. Whether this plainness is by design, or the result of the Protestant Reformation (which stripped the original church of its original ornamentation), it still has power and impact.
Each statue has an angel medallion overhead in the upper wall of the nave.Side aisle. I stood there long, looking up at the Christus, then slipped into a bench to think about the Savior beckoning me to him, his arms outstretched, his hands showing his the wounds he received while mortal. As in the beautiful Sagrada Familia Cathedral in Barcelona, a quiet upwelling of gratitude caused me to acknowledge the reality of the Atonement, and once again, to recognize that Christ needs to be at the center in my life. All of this sounds so trite and cliched. No matter. Even though I can’t always express in words how I feel when I speak of spiritual things, I trust the feelings inside that bear a sweet witness of Him.
Later I would come to know that this church where I sat was built and destroyed several times, and in the last construction, in order to save money, the builders incorporated elements of the surviving walls. That felt right to me, knowing that who I am has been rebuilt many times as I’ve gone through hardships in my life — and that the person I am now is built with fragments and pieces of what came before.
Other visitors came quietly in, the sounds of the street far away. Finally it was time to go. I took one last photo, one last long look, and left, carrying some of His peace with me.