Holy Ground

I wonder how many times Moses had passed that bush before. Nothing special. Just a bush, maybe similar to one of our gnarly junipers in the Palo Duro. A familiar prop in a familiar sheep pasture on the back side of the desert.

Until God showed up. And the author of the first five books of the Bible removed his shoes because he was on holy ground.

Thinking about it as I get ready to run off to Sunday school this morning. I’ll see familiar faces in familiar places. There will be familiar greetings, smiles, hugs. But, then, it just might become holy ground.

“For where two or three are gathered in My name, there am I in the midst of them” (Mt 18: 20).

Wonder if I should wear shoes.

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