I want to begin this morning with a confession. Not a deep, dark, soul-wrenching confession… but just a light one. I hate walking barefoot outside. I do. I know some people love the feeling of grass between their toes, or the warmth of sand on the beach. I’m not that guy. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a home with a dog, and walking in the back yard was always…risky…maybe it’s because I stubbed too many toes as a child and I’ve always been a wimp when it comes to pain…maybe I’ve stepped on too many sharp rocks or sticks…I don’t know. Whatever the reason, I just don’t like it. I don’t trust the ground to be friendly. I’ve always preferred having shoes on.  So, when I read about God telling Moses to take off his sandals, part of me sympathizes. “Really, God? Can’t we just keep the shoes on and still call it sacred?”

But that’s not how this works, is it?

In our “Campfire Story” for today, Moses is out in the wilderness. He’s tending the flock of his father-in-law, Jethro. It’s not a glamorous gig. This is a man who was raised in Pharaoh’s palace..a place of luxury..of opulence…and now he’s out there dodging sheep droppings in the desert heat. And then, something catches his eye. A random bush…a piece of shrubbery…on fire. But it’s not burning up.

Moses sees this…and his response? He says, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight.”  Really?  Who says that?  That would not have been my response.  I think I’d probably have stared for a quick moment, and then I’d freak out and run away…because a non-combustible fire?  That’s not normal.  But Moses is clearly a better man than I. He stops. He pays attention. And that’s the moment when everything for Moses changes.

Because then God speaks. From that burning bush. “Moses! Moses!” And Moses, perhaps more calmly than most of us would be, says, “Here I am.” To which God replies, “Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

Let’s pause there.

Why take off the sandals? Is it because God has suddenly become informal? Is it to keep Moses from tracking dust into his tent? No. God asks Moses to remove his sandals as a way of marking this moment, this space, as sacred. It’s not about foot fashion. It’s about God’s presence. God is here. Right here. In this very ordinary, very dusty place.

God doesn’t speak to Moses in a temple. Not in the palace. Not even on a mountain (not yet, anyway). God shows up in the middle of Moses’ day job. And suddenly, it’s not just a desert anymore. It’s holy ground.

And here’s the first thing we learn: Holiness isn’t just about a location. It’s about an awareness. A moment becomes sacred when we realize that God is there.

So, let me ask: when have you had that kind of moment?  When you felt God’s presence?   Maybe it was during a beautiful worship service, sure. 

• But maybe it was while you were changing a diaper at 3 AM and suddenly felt this overwhelming love. 
• Maybe it was when you were at camp, or on a mission trip.
• Maybe it was sitting by a hospital bed, holding a hand. 
• Maybe it was during coffee with a friend, or while watching your child sleep. 

Ordinary moments made holy because somehow, God felt close.

I remember a moment like that when I was doing youth ministry.  I had my youth group…28 of us…camping for 3 nights at Gulf Islands National Seashore, near Pensacola Beach Florida, after a week’s worth of work on a Habitat for Humanity site in Biloxi, Mississippi.  

During our first night of camping there…the storms came.  Torrential rain…pretty significant wind…lightning…thunder…we were up most of the night, listening to the storm in our tents.  The next morning, Saturday morning, our group looked at the forecast:  More of the same; we talked it over and we decided to bail out on the camping.  I cold called an ELCA church in Pensacola Beach and explained our situation and they were glad to welcome us into our building.  

So, we packed up quick and headed for town…for shelter, where we unpacked and tried to dry out. That was a Saturday.  The next morning then, Sunday, we went to worship at the church.  It was this little church…(Lutherans in the deep South are few and far between.) There were only maybe a dozen people in worship that morning. We outnumbered them more than two to one.  But they welcomed us with their whole heart.  When the kitchen ladies came in and saw us, sprawled throughout the whole church, they immediately went out and bought extra donuts…and they talked with us…they asked us questions…and I remember that in worship, when they sang the hymns, they sang them like they meant them. With gusto. With harmonies. With joy. And in the middle of that little, close-knit, welcoming community, I remember thinking, “This is holy ground. Not because of anything flashy, but because God is clearly here.”

That’s what God does. God shows up. And God invites us to notice.

But it doesn’t stop there.

Because after Moses has this powerful encounter, after God tells him that he has seen the suffering of the Israelites and is ready to act, God drops the big news: “I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt.”

And Moses says, “Me?”

Classic move. God says, “I have seen the pain of my people,” and Moses says, “Wow, that’s terrible. Someone should really do something about that.” And God says, “Yes. Yes you should.”

And Moses begins to squirm. He says, “Who am I that I should go?” He’s basically saying, “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.” He lists all the reasons he’s not qualified. He’s not a goy,od speaker. He’s not brave. He’s not ready. But God doesn’t let Moses off the hook.  Instead, God simply says, “I will be with you.”

Which leads us to our Gospel reading for today. Peter had just made this huge, bold declaration about who Jesus is. And now Jesus is talking about suffering, about the cross, and Peter wants none of it. He says, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” And Jesus rebukes him, saying, “You are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.”

You see, both Moses and Peter have the same issue. They want a God who stays safe and distant. Who blesses them, yes. Who walks with them, sure. But who doesn’t ask too much. And both of them are reminded that being in the presence of God means being changed. It means being called. It means taking off your sandals and stepping into something deeper.

And here’s the heart of the matter: When we truly experience the presence of God, it is never just for our own personal benefit. God’s presence always leads to purpose. Always.

God says to Moses, “You’ve encountered me. Now go.” Jesus says to the disciples, “You’ve followed me. Now take up your cross…and go.” In both cases, the presence of God leads people outward. Into the world. Into risk. Into service.

Because holiness isn’t meant to be hoarded. We’re not supposed to bottle it up and keep it for ourselves. Holiness is contagious. It spreads. It seeps into the world through us.

God told Moses to take off his sandals as a way of honoring the holiness of that moment. But once the conversation ends, Moses puts them back on. And he goes. He walks. Into Pharaoh’s court. Into confrontation. Into the messy work of justice…the messy work of liberation.

In the same way, you and I are invited to take off our metaphorical sandals now and then. To pause. To notice. To acknowledge that we are on holy ground. But then we’re called to put them back on and go.

Go into our neighborhoods. Go into our schools and workplaces and living rooms. Go and make those places holy too.

Now, I don’t mean that we should all carry a burning bush around or throw our shoes off in the middle of Target. Please don’t do that…people will think you’re weird. But we are called to treat the world as sacred:

• To act as if every conversation matters…because it does. 
• As if every person bears the image of God…because they do. 
• As if every place is potentially holy ground, because it is.

A few years ago, one of our confirmation small group leaders here at Trinity told me that she began every session with her group by lighting a candle and saying, “Let us remember that here…tonight…we are in the presence of God.” The young people found it a little odd at first. But eventually, they came to cherish that moment. It helped them focus. It reminded them that the things they learned…the conversations they had…the laughter they shared…the little things…could all be holy. That God was not limited to Sunday mornings or religious spaces. That God was with them, always.

So maybe that’s our invitation today. To remember. To notice. To turn aside. To see the burning bushes in our lives. And to be willing to take off our sandals now and then.

Because this is holy ground.

Right here.

Right now.

And once we recognize it, once we feel God’s presence in the ordinary, then we are called to carry that holiness into the world. To help others see it too. To walk, maybe even barefoot once in a while, into a world that God loves so deeply.

Thanks be to God!

Amen.