Take Off Your Shoes

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Exodus 3:4-6 "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."

Think

"Moses! Moses!"

God called him by name. Not "Hey, you." Not "Shepherd." His name. Twice. There is something deeply personal about the way God initiates this conversation. He does not begin with a command or a theological statement. He begins with a name. And Moses' response is just as striking: "Here I am." Three words. No qualifiers. No conditions. Just presence. I am here. I am listening.

But then God says something that must have stopped Moses cold. "Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground."

Here is what I want you to see. Moses was standing in the desert. Rocky, dusty, sun-scorched desert. There was nothing sacred about the geography. No temple had been built there. No priest had consecrated the soil. No special ceremony had set this piece of ground apart from any other piece of ground in Midian. It was just dirt. But God was there. And that made it holy.

This is one of the most important truths in all of Scripture, and I think we miss it constantly. We keep looking for holy places when God is trying to show us that any place becomes holy when he shows up. It is not the building that makes the ground sacred. It is not the stained glass or the worship band or the padded pew. It is the presence of God. Period. When God is present, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. The dirt becomes holy ground.

I experienced this in a way I will never forget. Before we started Fellowship Church, I drove out to a hill in Irving, Texas. There was nothing special about that hill. It overlooked some open land, a stretch of highway, and a whole lot of nothing. But I stood on that hill and I prayed. I asked God to do something with my life that I could not do on my own. I asked him to build something on that land that would outlast me. And in that moment, standing on that unremarkable hill in that unremarkable suburb, God met me. That hill became my holy ground. Not because of the view. Not because of the real estate. Because God showed up.

I have been back to that spot many times over the years, and every time I go back, I am reminded that God does not need us to find him in impressive locations. He finds us wherever we are willing to take off our shoes.

Notice what God is really asking Moses to do here. Taking off your sandals in the ancient world was an act of humility and reverence. You removed the barrier between yourself and the ground. You made yourself vulnerable. You stood exposed. God was not asking Moses to perform a ritual. He was asking Moses to come humbly, without pretense, without the protection of his own self-sufficiency.

Then God identifies himself. "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob." He anchors his identity in relationship and history. He is not some unknown deity. He is the God who made promises to Abraham, who wrestled with Jacob, who provided a ram for Isaac. He is the covenant God, the faithful God, the God who has been working through generations to get to this exact moment, with this exact man, on this exact piece of ground.

And Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God. That is the right response. Not casual familiarity. Not small talk with the Creator of the universe. Reverence. Awe. The kind of fear that does not make you run away but makes you fall to your knees.

I think we have lost some of that in the modern church. We talk about God as our friend, and he is. We talk about his grace, and it is real. But somewhere along the way, we forgot to take off our shoes. We forgot that the God who loves us is also the God whose presence makes the ground beneath our feet holy. There should be moments in our lives where we are overwhelmed by who he is. Where we stop talking and start trembling. Where we hide our faces, not in shame, but in reverence.

Here is what I keep coming back to. That hill in Irving did not become holy because I built a church near it. It became holy the moment God showed up on an ordinary afternoon and met an ordinary pastor with an extraordinary calling. Your kitchen table can be holy ground. Your car on the morning commute can be holy ground. The chair where you sit to read your Bible can be holy ground. Not because of the furniture. Because of his presence.

Take off your shoes. He is here.

Apply

Create holy ground – Choose one physical place in your daily life and set it apart as a place where you meet with God consistently. It does not need to be special. It just needs to be intentional.

Pray

Father, I confess that I sometimes rush into your presence without reverence. I treat you casually when I should be in awe. Remind me that wherever you are is holy ground. Give me the humility to take off my shoes, to come to you without pretense, and to be overwhelmed by who you are. In Jesus' name. Amen.