She's done nothing but feel guilty over the whole Ben situation. Both what Ben said and the idea that James doesn't know - these thoughts are slowly eating away at her. Plus there's the worry over the whole "Smoke-Monster-ruining-the-wedding" situation.
Juliet suddenly realizes where she is, coming out of her haze of thoughts with a bit of a start. She's walked this far and didn't even realize, and now she stands in front of the makeshift church Eko is building for Charlie and Claire. There doesn't seem to be anyone around at the moment, though a fallen tree and an axe are nearby.
She stares at it for a long moment before slowly walking around the structure, contemplating the workmanship. A church on the Island. Huh.
Juliet decided a long time ago she didn't believe in God, because if she did, she'd also have to believe he was cruel. No one can watch a baby die before taking their first breath and believe that there is a just, fair God somewhere out there who cares only for the well being of humanity.
These beliefs, if anything, have been reaffirmed by her time spent here. To see such devotion by so many to the name of Almighty Jacob, only to find out who this man - yes, just a man - really was? And to think that they all just blindly followed their own personal Island deity like sheep, utterly convinced he was there for them and would continue to be there for them in their time of need... it would be laughable if it wasn't so depressing.
She'd love to believe in a God, if she's being honest. Because with a God comes the idea of heaven, and heaven as some magical place you go when you die - if you're good, of course... who wants assholes in heaven? - where you get to see all your dead relatives and live in peace and harmony for all of eternity... well. Who wouldn't want that?
But she had died. Juliet had died, and there was no white light, no dead Gran, no clouds, and no harps.
Granted, this situation was probably a little different. She was alive again, inexplicably. Everyone had come back somehow and despite being on the Island, they were all together, healthy, relatively happy.
She runs a hand over the back of her neck at this thought. Most would call it miraculous. Everyone would, actually.
Juliet would not. She doesn't know what to call it, but she knows there are no miracles.