Ordinary Ground

Holy ground is not always a burning bush or a parted sea.

Sometimes it is a kitchen table at six in the morning, coffee cooling beside an open Bible and a prayer that begins with I don't know what I'm doing but here I am.

Sometimes it is the car park after the appointment where you sat for ten minutes and did not fall apart because something held you that was not your own strength.

Sometimes it is the long corridor of a year that did not resolve, where you kept walking not because you could see ahead but because the next step was still available to you.

God is not only in the dramatic places.

He is in the unremarkable Tuesday, the ordinary ache, the small faithfulness that no one noticed but Him.

Take your shoes off. You are standing on it now. This is the ground. This has always been the ground.