‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ (Exodus 3:4-5)
Where are your favorite places? Maybe it’s that favorite coffee shop you visit to meet friends. Or that restaurant in the area where the waiter knows your order. Or your child’s baseball field where you sit on the bleachers, and the calm surroundings put you at ease. The late Bartlett Giamatti was the commissioner of baseball and, before that, the president of Yale University. He was once asked about the popularity of baseball. “Why is it so enduring?” “Baseball is about coming home,” he responded, “and we all want to get home.” Places help us find a sense of home.
We all have favorite places. Some places excite us and bring us joy. And not all places bring us the same level of joy as they do to others. One place that brings joy to one person brings anxiety and consternation to another. For instance, my children and wife took me out for Father’s Day to see the new Indian Jones movie, my favorite adventure hero growing up. After the show, we got into the mini-van when my eldest daughter, ten years old, yelps, “Lululemon. Dad, there’s a Lululemon store across the street.”
My other daughter chimed in, “Yes. Dad, that’s our favorite place. Can we go? We don’t want to buy anything. We just want to look.”
For those unaware of Lululemon, it’s an expensive, popular clothing store amongst teenagers. And I thought to myself, “Well, my kids have given me a nice Father’s Day present. They are loving, charitable children. And really, what’s the harm? They just want to look.”
This was a set-up. Pure and simple. I was walking into an ambush. Blair was running another errand. We had driven separately. I said, “Alright, girls, let’s head over. But we’re just looking.”
Have you ever heard the phrase, “Mistakes were made?” They look around at the gear. Nothing is under $75. They bring me a pair of shorts, “Dad, I love these shorts. I just want to try them on. We don’t need to buy them.” Both girls go to try on the shorts in the dressing room. I know I’m in trouble, so I call Blair while they’re in the dressing room. I called. It went straight to her voicemail. It went to her voicemail fourteen times. And then it occurred to me. This situation had moved from a set-up to sabotage.
“Did I purchase the shorts?” you may wonder. I did. Indeed, I did. And I have just recently set up a GoFund me account that you can support. We all have our favorite places, and one person’s favorite place can be another person’s definition of a combat zone.
We also need sacred places. Sacred places are those places where we feel close to God. We feel a special connection to a place because we encountered God’s presence in a real way. I recall the story of Moses from Exodus 3. Moses was shepherding his father-in-law’s sheep in the land at Midian. One day he guides the sheep near Mt. Horeb, known as the Mountain of God. This mountain was where God dwelled. Solomon had yet to build the Temple. If you wanted to be near God, you would approach the mountain. But God was also so powerful that you couldn’t climb the mountain and encounter God. It would be too much for us to handle. While Moses was shepherding the sheep near Mount Horeb, a bush caught on fire, but the bush wasn’t burning up. An angel of the Lord appeared in this bush. Moses turned to see why the fire did not consume the bush. As he turned, God said to Moses, “‘Moses, Moses! Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place you are standing is holy ground.’
Then God proceeded to call Moses to free the Hebrew people from slavery. This ground was holy because God was present in a real way at that place. Removing your sandals was a sign of respect for the holy. It was a way to say, “This space is different. This space needs to be marked as a special place.” It was there at Mt. Horeb that Moses encountered the living God. That moment at that place dramatically affected the rest of Moses’ life. It was that place Moses received his higher calling in life to liberate God’s people from slavery. Indeed, it was holy ground.
Where is the holy ground where you encounter God and must remove your sandals? In the summer season, I think about Athens Y Camp in Tallulah Falls, Georgia. I spent 15 years at this camp. Not long ago, I was driving with my family on Highway 441 to Clayton, Georgia. I saw the sign for the camp. And I asked my family, “Would you be ok if we took a detour?” We crossed the Tallulah Gorge, passed the power plant, and turned left onto Y Camp Road. I remember the many hot days I had run on that road, and it seemed straight uphill. In the van, our kids were watching a movie, and there was chatter, and I said, “Can we turn that off?” They could see I was not their usual dad. And then I said, “Let’s roll the windows down.” I could smell the mountain air. And mountain laurels with their purple flowers dotted the roadsides. Even though they weren’t there, I could see friends from years past. We pulled through the camp gates, and I read the entry sign to my kids, trying to pretend everything was normal, “Where God and a good time are friends.” I had spent those summers in the mountains with my friends, and each morning, we held joyful times of devotion and singing. I need to remove the sandals from my feet every time I’m near. Indeed the ground on which we were standing was holy ground.
We need holy places. Where is your holy ground?
Will Zant 