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So-called ‘interfaith’ chapel at airports are essentially mini-mosques. There was not a single cross in two chapels I visited.
On Palm Sunday, I was traveling through Dallas-Fort Worth Airport (DFW) on my way home from CPAC 2026 and, having gone through security very early, I had a few hours to spare inside the terminal (thanks, Congress). So, I did what I usually do when I have extra time in airports — I looked for the chapel.
Airport chapels have long been a curiosity of mine, ever since I discovered they exist. I used to have terrible flying anxiety, and I found it comforting to stop in, pray, and look over the guest book to see what experience others have had in that space. It has always seemed a uniquely American privilege, a recognition of God’s sovereignty in the skies as well as on Earth. In recent years, I’ve noticed the chapels disappearing. Some major hubs have placed them outside the terminals, perhaps to accommodate the ever-growing number of Muslims staffing our airports.
I find it sad and frustrating, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover DFW had reinstalled their chapel since my last visit years ago. In fact, they had three (I have since learned there are two more outside the terminal). With hours left until my flight, I decided to visit them all — terminals B, D, and E.
What I found was the opposite of pleasant. They were essentially mini-mosques, labeled as “interfaith” chapels.
Chapel One
The first “chapel” had a prayer bench, at least. But it also included a lot of Islamic imagery and two large cabinets jammed with Islamic prayer rugs.
No crosses. Not a single one.
That chapel was empty. I left without praying. I didn’t like it and I didn’t feel comfortable. I left a note in the guest book — “Not a single cross but a hundred prayer rugs.” I headed out to the next terminal.
Chapel Two
That experience was even more disappointing. There was even less in that “chapel” to point to Christianity. There was a stained-glass window with vague imagery and some Bibles tucked on shelves. But prayer rugs were everywhere, including hanging on the racks on the wall. A sign encouraged the faithful to “look up” to find Mecca — a compass was painted on the ceiling.
When I arrived, there was one man already in the room. He had on an employee uniform and was a luggage handler or something similar. He had his shoes off, as if he’d just finished praying, and he was chilling out on the chairs watching a video on his phone. I was surprised to see him and surprised to hear his phone playing in a sacred space.
“Oh, hello!” I greeted him, startled. He looked surprised but said nothing. I sat down and took out my Bible and began to read silently, stopping once in a while to pray the Lord’s Prayer.
He turned up his phone. After a few minutes, he sighed loudly, muttered something under his breath, and took out a prayer rug, laying it out in the middle of the room. He began his prayers and chanting and bowing, and having seen these rituals before, I reasoned he would be finished in about five minutes or so. He was not.
The room featured some stained glass. Kind of a cross? If you squint and pretend and think hard about crosses?
Waiting out Various Visitors
At this time of day, several men were praying, facing their rugs to that far right corner. Naturally I did not photograph or video anyone who entered the chapel.
At each pass of the ritual, he was louder and louder. I began to read the Word out loud too. And when he got louder, so did I. We were speaking in normal inside voices, but we were definitely competing. --->READ MORE HERE (with photos)
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