Stinky Feet and Holy Ground

I’ve been running around a bit. Connecting cables, moving equipment. Responding as fast as I can to the question, “Can you give me a hand with this?” It’s not really stressful, but certainly busy. Being involved in ministry seems to be like that. I’ve been on my feet all day. I’ve been sweating a fair bit. Pretty gross. I think it’s genetics. But that’s not important. Point is, my feet stink.

But enough running around. Two o’clock has made its way to the present. Encounter is about to begin. My body shakes with some sort of unexplainable excitement. Something tells me that God is here.

Almost time to pick up my guitar. Sing some words into a microphone. Present an offering of praise. I hope my feeble attempt at worship will be pleasing to my King.

My thoughts turn to a portion of scripture from 1 John that has captivated me for the past week.

7 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. 8 Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 9 This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. 10 This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 11 Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

How incredible. Not that I loved Him, but that He loved me. I could care less of the dude upstairs. But goodness, he sure cares about me. Am I worthy? Nope. Do I deserve it? Nope.

But he loves me.

He knows me.

I’m empowered. I’m compelled. I must make known this message of love. Probably by loving. That seems to be the message.

I look up to the ceiling of the sanctuary. I feel like I can almost see the spirit of God in a cloud of invisible beauty above me. God is here.

So I slip off my shoes. The faint odour of my stinky feet tingles my nose. I let my socks, damp from the sweat of the day, rest upon the green carpet. My humanness and his Holiness touch.

I now stand on Holy Ground.

I pull up my guitar, and lay my still shaking fingers on the metal strings. I’m ready to worship His majesty.

Not because I loved Him, but because, right from the start, He loved me.

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