LOS ANGELES — On a breezy Sunday afternoon, Biola University is a postcard of serenity. A soft light filters through a small prayer chapel where a plain wooden cross stands in front. At its base someone has left a message on a scrap of paper.
Jesus, you are my guide, the joy of my heart, the author of my hope, the object of my love.
Ascetic and minimal, the room invites conversations with God. Wall niches contain similar handwritten notes.
