An Uncomfortable Truth

Two days ago I wrote about Holy Ground. How do we know when we are standing on Holy Ground? Could it be that we are always on holy ground?

It's a concept we like. We might forget that God is near, but when we are reminded, we like the grace of it. There is a corollary to that idea, though, that isn't so easy to take.

In Yancey's Grace book, he says:

All of us in the church need "grace-healed eyes" to see the potential in others for the same grace that God has so lavishly bestowed upon us. "To love a person," said Dostoevsky, "means to see him as God intended him to be."

We take for granted that God is near; we feel showered in grace to be reminded of his presence. It's not so wonderful to be reminded that each of us is God's holy ground. We are each children of God, designed by God, equipped by God, loved by God.

That's great for me; what a blessing to think of myself as a child of God. I'm glad to see you that way. But him? No, thanks, I would rather not see that other guy that way.

I re-read Psalm 23 and the devotion in Disciplines this week. Remember this line:

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
I always thought of that line as meaning that God would provide me protection, even in the presence of my enemies, but think of that line along with the word 'communion.' It takes on a whole different meaning, doesn't it?

It is an uncomfortable truth.