Holy Ground

I know what holy ground is:  that place where you want to take off your shoes because God is there, an unseen flame burning. 

Holy ground is where I stood on my back porch this summer and spoke final words to my grandfather, whose only response was labored breath on the other side of the telephone.  Holy ground was where I stood in church last Sunday morning, when I couldn't join the singing because it was too achingly beautiful.  It's where I sit right now, barefoot in my den, glancing out the window to see a tiny hummingbird hovering, inspecting me. 

Do you know what God said as Moses stood barefoot before a strangely burning bush? 

And this will be the proof that I am the One who sent you.  When you have brought my people out of Egypt, you will worship God right here at this very mountain.  -Exodus 3, The Message

I get it now.  We don't necessarily know we are on holy ground until afterward, in hindsight, when all we can think to do is go back to the beginning and worship. 

Last week, I had a Moses moment.  I was meandering across the Iowa State campus with old friends, reminiscing and laughing and trying to remember names and events that have blurred with time.  I recall a few things clearly:  the day I met Dave and he gave me his first of many sideways smiles; how we bumped into each other the next day on campus and said with synchronicity, "We should get together."  Holy ground...where two unholy people met and God turned it into beauty. 

I chuckled, remembering Becky, as a goofy RA, promising  the people on her floor that she would wear a giant bra across the courtyard if we would all show up to the dorm floor meeting.  We did...and she did, and we carried her on our shoulders. I don't think that qualifies as a holy moment, but it sure endeared her to me.  How fun to tease her about that 20 years later.

But there was a particular moment that day, when I stopped everyone and pointed to a courtyard and said, "That is where God called for me."  And my friend Mara smiled and said, "Yes, I remember.  You called me and said that you had found something."  Now I know that Someone had found me.

Right there, on a hot Wednesday afternoon, I worshipped, with our children skipping around us, among the college students slipping into their dorms, aside dear friends who share my passions.  I paused and worshipped because the proof was in front of me.  It was the voice of God I had heard all those years ago.

I had returned to the mountainside.