The World Grove and The Way

A reflection at the end of a 40-day journey through Revelation

It is all the same.
I see it more clearly now.

Away from the shaping and influence of empires and politics, the heart of all true religion is love and unity. Strip away the fear, the dogma, the power structures and competing claims—and what remains is something ancient and eternal. Something soft and fierce. Something real.

The Way is not a brand.
It is not a denomination or doctrine.
The Way is the path of love and unity.

It echoes in the teachings of Jesus and the whisper of the Tao. It flows through the words of Rumi and the wisdom of the Upanishads. It is carried in the heartbeat of creation, and in the longing of every soul to come home. The Way transcends the stories we tell about it, and yet it finds its shape in them too—like the wind becoming visible through the bending of the grass.

Over the past forty days—during this Second Lent, a rhythm held by the Celtic saints—I have walked deep into the Book of Revelation. A book so often feared. A book seen by many as full of destruction and wrath. And yet, when read with prayerful eyes and the heart attuned to Spirit, it reveals something entirely different. Revelation is not just about the end of time—it is about the unveiling of love, the unveiling of what is always true.

At its core, this wild and symbol-laden book speaks of a journey. A descent into the chaos of the world’s illusions, followed by an ascent into the eternal city of light. It is the path of the soul. The journey from exile to home. From division to union. From fear to love.

In the final chapters, I saw a vision that moved me to tears:
A city of gold and precious stones, whose gates never shut.
A place where there is no temple—because God is the dwelling place.
Where there is no night—because the Lamb is the light.
And flowing through it all, a river of life, and trees whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.

This is not fantasy. This is the truth at the centre of reality, clothed in symbol.
This is the promise of union.
This is what it means to come home.

And it is not reserved for the few.
The gates are open.
Always.

But here is the deeper truth:
The question isn’t “Who gets in?”
It’s “Are you ready to be changed by the light?”

To dwell here is to be transformed.
To walk this path is to be stripped and softened and made new.
It is to carry the cross of love and follow in the footsteps of peace.

No religion owns this way. But every true path bends toward it.

I see it as a grove, The world grove. A vast forest of wisdom and devotion, where every true religion is a tree rooted in sacred soil. Each one shaped by its own lands and stories, yet growing toward the same light. Some trees are ancient and towering, others younger and still unfolding—but at the heart of each is the same living truth. Love. Unity. The breath of the Divine. Walk this grove with open eyes and you begin to hear the harmony—different voices, one song.

And when we find ourselves walking it—however we name it—we begin to see one another not as strangers, but as kin. Each of us a spark of the divine. Each of us a branch in the world grove of wisdom, growing toward the same light.

So many times along the road, I have fallen.
And every time I have gotten up, I have been changed.
That, too, is grace.

This 40-day journey through Revelation has not ended in doom, but in awakening.
Not in judgment, but in invitation.

We are being invited—every one of us—into the great pilgrimage of the soul.
To become those who can dwell in the light forever.
To live in love.
To live in unity.
To live in God.

The gates are open.
The river is flowing.
The tree still grows, offering healing for all.

You are welcome to begin.

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Spiritual Companioning with Rob Chapman