
I stroll the yard – bare feet squishing in soft, soggy soil. Examining more varieties of mushrooms than I ever knew existed as I examine, with God, the complexities of my day. This homestead consecrated long ago, set apart as a dwelling for His Name, His instruction. This ground dedicated in heart and mind as His. Holy ground.
Our sanctuary in the middle of modern suburbia yet in my heart far removed from the world’s mad din. When I return home I remove those world-worn shoes – covered with the dirt of where I’ve been. I leave them at the door for this is where my feet become naked before my God. Resting. Exposed. Pure. On holy ground.
Feet bare, nothing to come between me and the Rock Upon Which I Stand. Foot to ground, face to Face. Holy ground.
Here I can bare my ugly feet with Him. I can give Him all I have in this place, in my life, outside these boundaries. Unload the junk I’ve collected along the path of my day. My place of repose in the bounty of His grace. I tilt my face up toward the sky and see an endless scroll of gifts unfurl that deserve thanksgiving.
One of them: living in the extremities with God. These bitter-sweet days of faith. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Hard? Yes! But it gives me more of Him. It requires total dependence. Would I really have it any other way? Would I trade it? For what? To live in this world is to have adversity. Another’s thorn seems a greater burden than I could ever bear.
We all need Him. Desperately! Life makes sure of it! I’ve told God more than once that I would much rather have this over a life of ease and comfort at the risk of less of Him. Oh sure, there are weary days when I feel weak and exhausted and long for simple. (Usually a sign of recent bouts of self-striving.) Those are the days to pray for greater patience. To wait. Rest. Believe. To kneel on holy ground.
Truly, I would rather be chained to difficulty than risk wandering from my God in a faulty sense of “freedom.” Far better to wrestle in this world -- with the things of this world -- than become bosom-buddies with it. We labor now, in the Lord’s unfailing strength, in this imperfect, exacerbating world, to take our leisure at the fulfillment of His promises another day. For now, I give Him praise and rejoice in His victories. And I especially give thanks -- even amid a field of mushrooms -- on holy ground.
Here I lean -- on my Lord -- on holy ground. Praising God and giving thanks. Bare feet and all.
'Til Zion I trod, Lord, may I stand faithfully in Your presence.














