Holy Ground
READ
Moses wasn't looking for God that day. He was simply doing what he always did—tending his father-in-law's sheep on the far side of the wilderness. It was ordinary work, the kind that fills most of our days with routine and repetition. One foot in front of the other. One task after another. Nothing special.
Until the bush began to burn.
Let’s take a moment to read Exodus 3:1-6:
Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb,the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush.Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”
When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”
And Moses said, “Here I am.”
“Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.
REFLECT
Here's what captures me about this story: the ground didn't become holy when Moses arrived. It didn't become holy when the bush caught fire. God declares, "The place where you are standing is holy ground." Past tense. Present reality. The holiness was already there. Moses just hadn't noticed it yet.
How much of our lives do we spend waiting for the extraordinary, completely missing the sacred nature of where we already are?
We've created a dangerous division in our minds between the spiritual and the mundane. There's church time and there's real life. There's our prayer closet and there's our kitchen. There's worship on Sunday and there's work on Monday. We've split our existence into categories: sacred moments that count for God, and ordinary moments that are just... filler.
But what if there is no such thing as ordinary ground when you belong to God?
Moses teaches us something profound about availability. He wasn't in a temple. He wasn't in a prayer meeting. He wasn't fasting on a mountaintop or attending a spiritual retreat. He was working. And he was paying attention. When he saw something unusual, he didn't dismiss it or hurry past it. He turned aside. He made himself available to notice what God was doing in the middle of his ordinary day.
This is the heart of living as a whole person before God. It's not about escaping your regular life to find God somewhere else. It's about recognizing that your regular life—with all its mundane tasks and daily rhythms—is exactly where God meets you.
That conversation with your child at breakfast. That email you're drafting. That commute you make every single day. That laundry that never seems to end. These aren't interruptions to your spiritual formation. They are your spiritual formation. The question isn't whether God is present in these moments. The question is whether you're present to God in them.
We spend so much energy trying to balance our spiritual life with our real life, as if they're two different things competing for our attention. But centeredness in God means bringing your whole self into every moment, recognizing that there's no part of your day that falls outside of God's presence and concern.
When you understand that your everyday world is holy ground, everything shifts. You stop waiting for the extraordinary spiritual experience and start noticing the God who shows up in the middle of the ordinary. You stop performing religious activities to earn God's attention and start responding to the God who's already attentive to you.
Here's what Moses did that changed everything: he took off his shoes. It was an act of recognition, humility, and presence. He acknowledged that he was standing somewhere significant, even though moments before it had seemed like nowhere special. He made himself vulnerable. He stopped treating the moment as just another task to complete.
What would it look like for you to "take off your shoes" in your ordinary moments? To approach your daily life with the awareness that you're standing on holy ground? Not because you've made it holy through your effort, but because God is already there, already present, already at work?
This is the integration Jesus calls us to. Not a life split between sacred and secular, but a life where everything flows from the same center—a heart that recognizes God's presence everywhere. You don't have to become someone else to encounter God. You don't have to be somewhere else. You simply need to be available, attentive, and willing to turn aside from your hurried pace long enough to notice.
Your ordinary work matters to God. Your regular relationships matter to God. Your everyday decisions matter to God. Not because you've managed to make them spiritual enough, but because you are God's beloved, and everything about your life is of interest to the One who loves you.
The bush is burning in your ordinary life right now. The ground where you're standing is holy. The question is: will you notice?
RESPOND
Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.
What "ordinary" parts of your daily routine have you dismissed as unimportant to your spiritual life? How might God already be present in those moments?
What would it practically look like for you to "take off your shoes"—to bring awareness and presence—in one specific area of your everyday life this week?
REST
Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:
Holy God, forgive me for rushing past Your presence in my ordinary moments. Open my eyes to see that wherever I am is holy ground because You are already there. Teach me to turn aside, to pay attention, to make myself available to You in the middle of my regular life. Help me to live as one whole person, aware of Your presence in every task, every conversation, every ordinary moment. Amen.