Holiness. Pure righteousness. Anointed.
Sacred.
It hardly feels sacred. It feels mundane, ordinary. Stale.
Remove your shoes. For you are standing on holy ground.
Amidst toys strewn on the floor and a dog sneaking something from the trash bin? Really?
Too often we equate "holiness" with "exhilaration." Somewhere along the journey, we presupposed that there is always movement to the sacred.
Be still and know that I AM.
But there is something sticky on the floor, and what I'm hoping is only peanut butter on the faucet handle.
Are we too busy waiting for sparks and fireworks? Are we straining our eyes to catch sight of a flashing Vegas-style neon sign pointing the way to our personalized burning bush? "Cynthia! Follow the lighted arrows to your very own bush, aflame with God...stuff!"
Baaa! Where the heck did that moronic sheep wander off to this time? Every day is the same hum-drum. Chase that wolf away, lock up the sheep at night, rescue this lamb, clean that off my sandal.
Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.
This was a personal and intimate moment between God and man. It was sandwiched betwixt the common and garden-variety of Moses' day. There was still a sheep to locate, still messes to clean and still the mundane to live. But everything changes when God touches the expected. There's a new lens through which we view our purpose.
I still have noses to wipe, meals to prepare, rebukes to dole out, and furniture to dust. In between, and even during, there are countless moments to connect with Holiness. It's a matter of intentionally cultivating a sacred home. Not a Martha Stewart home. A sacred home. Imperfect, but bending before the throne and anticipating His presence.
Even in the mundane.
Come to think of it, holiness and ordinary-ness seem perfectly suited for one another.
Off To Tackle The Dishes...With My Flip-Flops Off,
Cynthia
*And, wait! What? Is that a booger on the wall?!?
Amen!
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