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I am writing this on Good Friday, on the heels of a worship service.  Throughout much of the preceeding hour, I would say I was present, but not quite engaged.  And then there was this moment; a moment where I was drawn in – and it felt close to holy, but not quite.

As we drove home, I was noticing the zillion cars on the road and I was thinking that this evening was completely devoid of meaning for about 99% of people out on the town.  Days earlier, I had spoken to a Muslim in a completely different context – of course Christian holidays hold no reverence for someone from a differing faith; yet they hold their sacred days in equally high esteem.  

I know quite a few people who connect with God more clearly in nature then they ever do in a building made by man.  And then there are many who must be with a group of like-minded people, others who must be in solitude to feel like they can call forth that place where they meet with God.

So what makes something HOLY?  Like with all capital letters?

Nothing definitive here, because I am not authoritative in any way …

                                                but I think Holiness happens

                                                                                            when God shows up.  

Because He is holy personified.  And if this is the case,  if we choose to invite Him into our daily moments, then even the simplest of things can become a place where our lives become worship.  Taking care of my animals, washing the dishes, taking a shower … all can become places where I remove my shoes (especially for the showers!).  

It is difficult for me to assign special significance to Good Friday and to Easter,  (and feel free to call this heresy if you wish) because everyday feels like Good Friday  and Easter to me.  I believe as I get older, time holds less meaning for me.  If God exists out of time (which I believe He does) – then Good Friday is NOW.  As is Easter.  As is the day of my birth and the day of my death.  

But I digress …

Tomorrow, I will be fertilizing my yard with manure.  I can either make that a stinky (pun intended) miserable job, or I can make it one where angels sing because of where my heart focuses its attention.  Let's hope for the latter.  : )