One of the things I was most excited about in going to Rome was seeing Vatican City – the smallest nation in the world, in which the Pope lives and runs the Catholic church. The nation exists within the walls of Rome, is home to only 850 people, is less than a quarter of a square mile in size, and yet governs over a billion Catholics worldwide – nearly one sixth of the world’s population. I can hardly even wrap my mind around this.

Ever since Pope John Paul II died last year and over 3 million Catholic pilgrims descended on Rome during his dying days and funeral, I have been completely fascinated with the Pope and Vatican City. Not only was this tiny nation the central hub for over a billion people worldwide, but it housed Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel too.

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God and Adam’s hands are probably the most well-known image from the Sistine Chapel.

The Sistine Chapel was probably what I was most excited to see in Vatican City, but when I arrived, I was surpised to find out that my greatest inspiration came not from Michelangelo’s painting, but in fact from his architecture.

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St. Peter’s Basilica rises over St. Peter’s Square.

I don’t know if my words or even my above photograph can do justice to the absolute beauty and majesty of St. Peter’s Basilica. As I stood in St. Peter’s square and looked up at this church, I felt like I was not looking at a building so much as a picture of Heaven. It was transcendent, overpowering. It seemed not like a collection of brick and stone, but an embodiment of spiritual majesty – like God had carved this building from a single stone, lowered it down from Heaven just as it was, and set it on earth to give us a picture of who He was.

So much of the power of this building came from simply standing by it. The scale of the building was overwhelming. You could take the whole building in with a single glance, and yet it seemed to stretch on forever. It felt close to you, and yet at the same time it felt like it was miles away, rising from the horizon. The church rose in front of you, and yet the courtyard surrounded you. You were overwhelmed by what you saw, and yet you were brought near to it too.

As I write this all out, I realize that maybe part of the reason this building was so moving for me is because it is a picture of my relationship with God. As I stand before His holiness and transcendent majesty, it is overwhelming. He is distant and so much more glorious than I will ever be. And yet He is near. I can fall in awe at his majesty, and yet He brings me into His courtyard and into His presence. He is distant and powerful, and yet near and personal.

I don’t know if this was what Michelangelo, Bernini and several other architects intended as they designed the church and courtyard, but it is the reaction that I had to it. And I’m so inspired by Michelangelo anyway, that when I was reflecting on all of this in St. Peter’s Square, and my Mom then told me that Michelangelo had designed the dome on the top of the basilica, I just started tearing up. It was like 2,000 years of Christian history suddenly became less distant and more near. Bernini designed the courtyard 300 years ago. Michelangelo designed the dome 500 years ago. Rome adopted Christianity 1700 years ago. Peter was crucified for his faith 1900 years ago. And Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead 2000 years ago. That time was distant, and yet it was suddenly near. I was overwhelmed.

I have never cried at a work of architecture before, but that all changed at St. Peter’s Basilica. I am so thankful to Michelangelo and Bernini for brining my heart to awe and worship, and my only hope is that my art can do the same thing for others.