If you are listening in real time, welcome back! It is hard to believe that summer is slowly beginning to wind down, that school is quickly starting to ramp back up, and that we are already well over halfway through the year of our Lord 2021. What is time? I don’t know.

I also don’t know about you, but my summer felt very full, in good (and not so good) ways. But it started out like every summer I’ve ever known - with a trip to the west coast of Florida over Memorial Day weekend. I think I've mentioned this annual tradition before in the podcast, but in case you are new around here, with one exception, my family has gathered together at the beach every year at the end of May for over 40 years. And in doing so, we start the summer off right. Beach time, family, and good food. I can’t imagine it any other way.

This most recent Memorial Day Weekend was made especially fun by the added energy of my 2.5 year old nephew, Colson. While this wasn’t his first go-round, this was the first Memorial Day that he was fully mobile, and I don’t know that I need to say more than that. This little guy was all over the place - exploring, questioning, learning, and discovering. He was constantly on the move, and as a result, so were we.

However, in the midst of being very much on the go, I remember one specific moment when he did slow down. We were all out on the beach for the sunset and my mom, his grandma,  knelt down, pointed, and said, “Colson, look at the sun!” And he stopped. He looked. He watched. And for the next few moments, he was still. Mesmerized. It was like he understood the sunset was beautiful and worth paying attention to. I made sure to take a quick photo to capture the rare moment.

It was incredible to see that he was now at an age when he could stop and notice:  notice the sun going down, notice a rabbit in the yard, notice the movement of the waves, notice a seagull flying overhead.  I don't know how or when that moment comes for us - when we learn to notice and pay attention. But when it happens, it changes things. Because it gives us the opportunity to stop and notice God around us, too. 

In a way, that moment reminded me of one of my favorite passages from Scripture: Moses and the burning bush.

You might be familiar with the story. Moses is out tending his flock as a shepherd, and he comes across a bush that is on fire, but not consumed by the flames.  

In Exodus 3, the story continues:

Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. 3 So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”

4 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.”

5 “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

In my class this summer, I learned something interesting about this story, something I had never really considered before. According to many Jewish rabbis and scholars, it is likely that Moses was not the first person to encounter this burning bush. It is likely that many people, in fact, had been in the general vicinity of the bush, walking right on by. What sets Moses apart is that Moses noticed. Moses was willing to stop. Moses was curious. Moses was paying attention. 

It’s also interesting that God told Moses to take off his sandals. Yes, he was standing on holy ground and removing his shoes was a sign of reverence and humility. But I wonder if God had even more in mind.

My professor this summer, Dr. A.J. Swoboda tells a story about an interaction he had with his young son. For months, every time he arrived home from work or some sort of meeting, his son would relentlessly beg him to take off his shoes. Sometimes he would, sometimes he wouldn’t, but finally, after months of being asked, he decided to ask his son, “Why do you want me to take off my shoes? Why does that matter to you?”

His son simply replied, “Because when you take off your shoes, I know you aren’t going anywhere.”

Maybe God telling Moses to take off his shoes was, in part, God inviting Moses to stick around. Stay awhile. Maybe removing his shoes was removing distraction. Maybe it was creating space for the holy to seep in.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning once wrote,

“Earth's crammed with heaven, 

And every common bush afire with God, 

But only he who sees takes off his shoes…”

Sometimes, I wonder what I’m missing. In my over-functioning, in my distracted frame of mind, when my eyes are locked on my scrolling screen, when I attempt to handle too much, what am I missing? What holy ground do I unintentionally ignore? And why does standing on holy ground even matter?

It matters because it strengthens our own well-being and our own connection with God. There is holy to be found all throughout our lives if we’re willing to pay attention. Feel free to revisit remind{h}er 31 for more on that. However, our connection with God is what sustains our connections with others. Holy ground is sure footing as we seek to be the people God is calling us to be. 

When we take the time to take off our shoes and stick around, to stand on holy ground, we’ll be better friends. Better leaders. Better learners. Better caretakers. Better peacemakers. 

So what might it look like to take off our shoes?

It’s leaving our phones in the other room.

It’s looking people in the eye.

It’s making space for good conversation.

It’s sitting on the porch listening to the rain.

It’s going for a walk around the block.

It’s turning off the radio during your commute.

It’s taking the time to offer a kind word or a warm smile in a world where that is becoming increasingly rare.

The list goes on. God meets us in multitude of ways. 

Today, may we choose to notice. Remember to take off your shoes and stay awhile. You just might be standing on holy ground.