St Andrews: photos of February

Every day I spend in St. Andrews I thank God for the beauty of this place.  I see the creative work of His hands in every sunset, every building, every person.   This town is filled with history and memories, filled with the experiences of the countless souls who have lived, loved, and died here.  I have taken well over a thousand photos in a little over a month, but I wish I could capture moments.  I was sitting in the Cathedral ruins with a friend the other day, and I remarked that I wished I could paint the moment we were in.  It’s more than the hues of the clouds against the texture of the stone, more than the colors.  Moments are so precious, and memories are made by taking in each detail, each sensory experience.  Pictures can never encompass the exact feeling of the breeze on your skin, the sunshine warming your skin, the smells in the air, or the feeling of an ancient kirk (church) beneath your fingertips.  Pictures cannot capture emotion the way your heart can.

You may notice over the semester that I post a lot of photos of the sky.  For some reason, the sky here is so much more beautiful to me even than that of home.  The clouds have a different quality that I can’t explain, and the colors never fail to delight me.  It’s simply mesmerizing in a way that even the most perfectly-timed picture cannot fully express.

Below are some moments and sights which have stuck in my mind from the past month.  Some descriptions are longer than others, but I have included in the captions the reason why each moment is stuck in my mind.

This is a close-up of a gorgeous old piano in one of the residence halls, St. Regulus. So much history!

As I was walking back to hall after an afternoon in town, I was literally stopped in my tracks by this gorgeous sight before me. I have never seen the Old Course more resplendent! The picture does not do it justice.

You know you’re in Scotland when you get whisky with your haircut! This barber shop makes me laugh every time I pass it.

This row of buildings is just next to the old pier and it reminds me of Charleston, my home, every time I pass it. East Sands is always so alive with color and sound!

Every time I pass through the cemetery at the Cathedral, I am struck by the profound peace and stillness present there, even amid the sounds of the surrounding town. Cemeteries always make me feel poetic–I can’t help but think of all of the beautiful souls who were born, made countless memories, touched lives and loved deeply, and who now find their bodies resting forever in an achingly beautiful place.

St. Salvator’s Hall, where Prince William lived during his time here. I love walking by the hall just to admire its beauty.

Here is another gorgeous sky that made my face light up. No watercolors can compare to what God paints on His canvas!

This is on The Scores, the street in St Andrews that runs along the coast. I was walking home from church one night and was distracted by the quiet beauty of this moment. Even in the dark St. Andrews is incredible.

I went to a pub trivia night with some JSA friends a few weeks ago. This round, the category was game shows. Obviously, 5 Americans knew nothing about British game shows and so we decided to dedicate the round to 2 of our favorite Scots.

I love walking through this archway to get to the psychology library or to class. How many famous (or unknown) historical figures have passed through the same gates? I am living history here! I also love the reminder: In principio erat Verbum. In the beginning was the Word.

The snow swirling about on this morning made it exceptionally difficult to concentrate in class. When it snows here, I feel even more like I am living in a wonderland!

I was looking for dinner in Tesco (a grocery store) one evening and received more than a few strange looks when I started cracking up at these sandwiches. Silly Scotland! Leave fried chicken to the American South.

The first several times I visited the Cathedral it was blanketed in snow, which only added to the tranquility and mystery.

I went for a walk around town with my friend Sarah when it snowed; we decided to make snow angels on the Old Course. This photo looks out toward West Sands in the distance. How many people can say they’ve played in the snow on the Old Course?

Cold, wet, hungry, and very happy! This is my JSA friend, Sarah. I am incredibly blessed to have met wonderful people such as her! (Yes, it was Ash Wednesday.)

 

He’s Always At Work

I have a confession to make. I don’t like hard things. For someone who has long been an avid reader of the Harris twins’ blog The Rebelution and book Do Hard Things, the necessity of such an admission is both humbling and sobering. First, let me say that, as I enjoy a final semester at Erskine and look back on my wonderful years here, it is imminently clear to me how very richly the Lord has blessed me. As a sinful human being, however, I quickly forget my first love, and so, when a painful trial makes an entrance, I often discover just how unsanctified I actually am.

If there’s anything that tends to turn our eyes toward eternity, it is experiencing some sort of acute discomfort or suffering here on this earth. Whether our trial is emotional, physical, spiritual, or relational, a situation that causes us to—at least for a short time—feel that earthly happiness is simply unattainable is an incredibly effective tool that the Lord often uses to cause us to long for heaven. With regard to this truth, Colossians 3:1-4 is a verse I’ve been meditating on lately: “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you will also appear with him in glory.”

For the believer experiencing a trial of some sort, such verses provide both comfort and great hope. When I find myself responding to hard things with bitterness, asking the Lord, “Why, why?” I know both that He is big enough for me to ask the honest, emotionally raw questions and that such a response, though natural enough, does not honor Him if it’s where I remain. It’s easy to become comfortable and complacent when our lives seem to be going just as we’d planned and we feel fairly in control of our circumstances. Such a state of apathy and illusory self-sufficiency, however, is not one with which the Christian ought ever to be content. We are called to something higher, greater, and richer, by the grace of the One who is faithful never to leave us where we are.

I love this quote of Elisabeth Elliot’s: “Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering. The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering. The love of God did not protect His own Son. The was the proof of His love – that He gave that Son, that He let Him go to Calvary’s cross, though ‘legions of angels’ might have rescued Him. He will not necessarily protect us—not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.” How I resonate with her words! I recognize in myself that limited vision of which she speaks, but I am also inexpressibly thankful for the God of comfort who is loving and compassionate, even as He molds and shapes us (II Corinthians 1:3-5).