There is a simple Christian hymn that has stayed with many people over the years. Its title alone is enough to prompt a profound question: “Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.”
When we hear the word “sanctuary,” we usually think of a beautiful church. We think of a place set apart for God – a place of reverence, silence, prayer, and worship. We instinctively lower our voices as we enter because we know we are standing on holy ground.
But Sacred Scripture reminds us that God desires something even more astonishing. St. Paul tells us, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (I Corinthians 3:16)
Think about that for a moment.
God does not simply ask us to visit a sanctuary. He asks us to become one. That is both an incredible privilege and an immense responsibility.
Every baptized Christian is called to become a living temple where Christ is welcomed, adored, and obeyed. But I wonder if, in these days in which we are living, the Lord is inviting us to ponder those words more deeply than perhaps we ever have before.
The lines do not simply say, “Lord, make me a sanctuary.” It says, “Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.” That one word – “prepare” – has stayed with me. Preparation implies a journey. It tells us that God is doing something. It reminds us that becoming a sanctuary is not something we accomplish by our own efforts. It is His work before it is ours. It begins with His grace, His invitation, His patient work within the human heart.
Throughout Sacred Scripture, whenever God called someone to a mission, He first prepared them. Not hurriedly. Not according to the world’s timetable. But according to His own. Sometimes that preparation took years. Sometimes it took decades. Often it took place in hiddenness.
Think of Moses. Before God called him to lead Israel out of Egypt, He prepared him in the silence of the wilderness.
Think of David. Long before he was recognized as king, God was shaping his heart in lonely fields, where only the Lord saw the work that was being done.
Think of the Apostles. They did not become the men who would carry the Gospel to the ends of the earth in a single day. They walked with Christ. They listened. They failed. They learned. They were corrected. They were humbled. Little by little, the Lord prepared them for what lay ahead.
God has always worked that way. He prepares before He sends.
Perhaps that is difficult for us because we live in a world that values immediacy. We want answers quickly. We want to see results. We want to know where the road is leading before we take the next step. But God rarely works that way.
I find myself wondering if there are many souls today who find themselves in that place of preparation. Perhaps you have sensed the Lord drawing you more deeply into prayer. Perhaps you have found yourself longing for silence, not because you are withdrawing from the world, but because the noise of the world no longer satisfies the deepest longing of your heart.
Perhaps there are things the Lord has been gently asking you to surrender, not because He wishes to take something from you, but because He desires to give you something greater. If that has been your experience, do not dismiss it too quickly. Take it to prayer. Ask the Lord what He is preparing within you.
Because one thing becomes very clear throughout the history of salvation. God never prepares a sanctuary for its own sake. He prepares it because He desires to dwell there.
And this part is very important – The preparation belongs to God.
It is He who forms. He who purifies. He who consecrates. He who takes what is ordinary and, through His grace, sets it apart for His own purposes.
If we look throughout Sacred Scripture, we find that this is how God has always worked. Before He entrusted someone with a mission, He prepared them. Before He asked them to go, He first asked them to remain with Him. Before He called them to speak, He taught them to listen. Before He strengthened their hands for His work, He formed their hearts.
God is never in a hurry.
His work is deliberate because His desire is not simply to accomplish a task. His desire is to transform a soul. That is the journey of every saint. And perhaps that is the journey of every soul who sincerely prays, “Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.”
It is a prayer that requires trust because we do not know how the Lord will answer it.
His preparation may come in the quiet faithfulness of ordinary life. It may come through hidden sacrifices that no one else sees. It may come through unexpected joys, or through trials that deepen our dependence upon Him. Whatever form it takes, His purpose remains the same – to make our hearts a place where He is truly at home.
That is not a small calling. It is the calling from which every other calling flows. For what is a sanctuary if not a place where God dwells? And if God desires to make His dwelling within us, then everything He permits in our lives must be understood in the light of that desire.
Perhaps we spend too much time asking, “Lord, what are You asking me to do?” Perhaps we should first ask, “Lord, what are You preparing me to become?”
These are very different questions. The first looks toward activity. The second opens the heart to transformation. And I believe that distinction is especially important in the days in which we are living.
We often think that renewal begins with what we accomplish. Yet throughout the history of the Church, God has so often begun His greatest works in hidden souls where the first response was not activity, but surrender. Before there is mission, there is consecration. Before there is witness, there is communion. Before there is fruit, there are roots growing deep into the life of God.
“Lord, prepare me …”
Not simply to do more. Not simply to know more. But to belong to Him more completely. For only a heart that belongs entirely to Christ can truly become His sanctuary.
Perhaps that leads us to another question. “Why has God always desired sanctuaries?”
Certainly not because the infinite God needs a building in which to dwell. The One who created the heavens and the earth cannot be contained by anything He has made. Solomon himself recognized this when he dedicated the Temple, asking, “Will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain You; how much less this house which I have built.” (I Kings 8:27).
Yet the Lord commanded that the Temple be built. He instructed Moses in every detail of the Tabernacle. Nothing was left to chance.
Why?
Because God was teaching His people something about Himself. He is holy. And if we are to enter into communion with Him, we too must become holy. The sanctuary was never simply about a place. It was about a relationship. It was the visible reminder that God desired to dwell in the midst of His people.
That desire runs like a thread through all of salvation history.
In the Garden of Eden, God walked with Adam and Eve in the intimacy for which humanity had been created. Sin shattered that communion. Yet even then, God did not abandon His people. Instead, the entire story of salvation becomes the story of God drawing humanity back into His presence.
The Tabernacle.
The Temple.
The prophets calling Israel back to fidelity.
And then, in the fullness of time, the greatest mystery of all.
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
The Greek words that St. John chose are remarkable. He doesn’t simply say that Jesus lived among us. The expression he uses literally means, “He pitched His tent among us,” or “He tabernacled among us.” It’s a beautiful reminder that the God who dwelt with Israel in the Tabernacle has now come to dwell among us in Jesus Christ.
Think about that.
From the beginning of creation, God’s desire has never changed. He has always desired to dwell with His people. Not because He needs us. But because He loves us. That is the story of salvation. It is the story of a Father continually calling His children home. It is the story of a God who refuses to abandon His people. It is the story of divine love pursuing the human heart.
Every sanctuary points to that reality. Every tabernacle proclaims it. Every church reminds us that God has not withdrawn from His creation. He is still Emmanuel – God with us.
But if that is true, then another question naturally follows. If God has always desired to dwell with His people, why does He also spend so much time preparing the places where He dwells?
The Tabernacle in the wilderness was prepared according to His instructions. The Temple was consecrated before it became the dwelling place. The Blessed Virgin Mary was prepared by a singular grace to become the Mother of God. Nothing that belongs completely to God is treated casually. Everything dedicated to Him is first consecrated.
Perhaps we should pause there for a moment.
Because if we have prayed, “Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary,” then we are asking the Lord to consecrate our lives to Himself.
That is a beautiful prayer. It is also a courageous one. Because consecration always involves surrender. We cannot ask the Lord to make us His dwelling place while insisting that certain rooms of our hearts remain locked. We cannot ask Him to reign while holding tightly to the very things that draw us away from Him.
This is where I find myself returning to the cleansing of the Temple.
Perhaps in this story in the Gospel there is a living invitation for us.
Christ still enters His Father’s house. Christ still loves His Father’s house. Christ still desires His Father’s house to reflect His holiness.
And if, through Baptism, we have become temples of the Holy Spirit, then we must allow Him to enter the sanctuary of our own hearts. Not once. But again and again.
Sometimes we imagine that the Lord’s cleansing is an act of judgment. Perhaps, though, it is first of all an act of love. He sees what we were created to become. And He refuses to leave us less than that.
He overturns whatever keeps us from becoming fully alive in Him – what keeps us from becoming a sanctuary. That is why sometimes His preparation can feel like loss. Yet, in reality, it is making room. Making room for His peace. Making room for His truth. Making room for His courage. Making room for His presence. And I cannot help but wonder if many faithful souls are living precisely in that season today.
A season of preparation.
Not always understanding what God is doing. Not always seeing where He is leading. Only knowing that He is asking for a deeper surrender than ever before.
If that is where you find yourself, do not become discouraged.
Throughout salvation history, God has always prepared His people before entrusting them with what lay ahead. He has never wasted a season of purification. He has never forgotten a soul that He was preparing. And He has never abandoned those who entrusted themselves completely to Him.
And that leads me to another question that has remained with me. “Why would God prepare sanctuaries?” He prepares them because He intends to dwell there. But I believe there is something more.
Throughout salvation history, God has never prepared souls simply for their own sake. Whenever He has done a profound work within a soul, it has always been because His love was reaching far beyond that one person.
Think of Abraham. God prepared one man, and through him He began a people. Think of Moses. God prepared one man in the silence of the wilderness, and through him He delivered Israel. Think of the prophets. So often they stood almost alone, yet God had prepared them for precisely the time in which they were called to live.
Think of Our Blessed Mother. For generations, God was preparing for the fullness of time. Then, in the hiddenness of Nazareth, one humble young woman gave her “yes,” and the history of the world was changed forever.
God has always prepared souls for the times in which they would be needed. That has not changed.
The question is not whether God is still preparing souls. The question is whether we recognize His work when it is happening.
Perhaps that is why so many faithful Catholics today sense something stirring deep within their hearts.
Not fear. Not excitement. Something deeper. A longing to belong more completely to Christ. A desire to stand firmly in the truth. A longing for silence in a world that never stops talking. A hunger for the Eucharist. A deeper love for Sacred Scripture. A growing awareness that nothing this world offers can satisfy the deepest desires of the human heart.
Perhaps these are not isolated experiences. Perhaps they are invitations. Invitations to become men and women whose lives are so rooted in Christ that His presence becomes visible through them.
Not because they seek attention. Not because they possess extraordinary talents. But because they have become places where Christ truly dwells.
I believe every age has needed such souls. But there are moments in history where they become especially necessary. Not because God has abandoned His people. He never does. But because when darkness increases, the light becomes even more necessary.
The answer to darkness has never been more darkness. The answer has always been Christ. And Christ chooses to continue His work through those who belong to Him.
That is why I believe the prayer, “Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary,” is not simply a beautiful personal devotion. It is a courageous prayer. Because when we pray it sincerely, we are placing ourselves completely in the hands of God.
We are saying, “Lord, do whatever is necessary. Purify what needs to be purified. Heal what needs to be healed. Remove whatever keeps me from belonging entirely to You. Prepare me – not according to my plans, but according to Yours.”
That prayer can change a life. And perhaps it is the prayer that faithful Catholics are being invited to pray in a particular way today.
The Church has always lived with hope. Sacred Scripture assures us that Christ will never abandon His Bride. And throughout the centuries, approved private revelations have repeatedly spoken of a time when the Church, after great trials, would experience a profound renewal through the triumph of God’s grace.
Among them are the remarkable messages associated with Our Lady of Good Success, who spoke of difficult times for the Church, but also of God’s providence in raising up faithful souls to preserve the faith and help prepare the way for renewal.
And this much we know.
God has never entered a decisive moment in salvation history without first preparing the souls He intended to use. He prepared Noah before the flood. He prepared Moses before the Exodus. He prepared the Apostles before Pentecost.
And He has prepared countless hidden saints throughout the centuries, whose fidelity became the foundation for great works that only God could accomplish.
Perhaps He is doing the same today. Perhaps, quietly and unnoticed by the world, He is preparing men and women whose hearts have become true sanctuaries – souls rooted in prayer, nourished by the Eucharist, faithful to Sacred Scripture and Apostolic Tradition, and willing to stand with Christ whatever the cost.
If that is His work, then may our response be simple, humble, and complete:
Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary.
Not for my own sake. But for Your glory. For Your Church. And for the renewal that You, in Your perfect wisdom and perfect time, desire to bring to the world.
May Almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Bishop Joseph E. Strickland
Bishop Emeritus
