An Australian Army soldier on foreign soil was photographed using scissors to “mow” a tiny plot of grass in front of his tent. Most of the land was sandy desert, so he asked his wife to send him some Aussie soil, seed, and fertilizer. He was then able to smell the scented green grass of home and feel it under his bare feet. Before other soldiers went out on patrol they walked on the grass in the hope that they would safely return.
Maybe General Naaman of Syria had something similar in mind when he asked the prophet Elisha for a couple of mule-loads of soil to take home to Syria. Through the prophet, Naaman had just been healed of leprosy, and wanted to stand on holy ground back home while worshipping the God of Israel (2 Kings 5:17).
Joshua was a general who found himself standing on holy ground after he encountered an angel in the field (Joshua 5:15). Holy ground is ordinary ground that’s made special by its association with someone or something significant. A curious Moses turned aside to watch the phenomenon of a bush burning without being consumed, only to be told by God to remove his sandals because he was standing on holy ground — desert dirt suddenly made special by God’s holy presence (Exodus 3:5).
Where’s your holy ground? The church altar where you exchanged marriage vows with your beloved? That special place where you gave your life to Jesus? Or, the meeting in which you were baptized in the Holy Spirit?
For immigrants, holy ground might be the town they left behind in their country of origin. Some folks have no holy ground. Orphans have no personal holy ground — no memory of loving parents and doting grandparents. No familiar birthplace to evoke warm feelings of nostalgia. No sweet-scented, emotional ground of memory on which to stand.
Sadly, many Christians forsake their spiritual birthplace — the churches they first knew and loved — and find it difficult to settle elsewhere. Only a surpassing spiritual experience can replace the holy ground of their first church relationships and experiences. Anything less, however valid, has failed to erase the strongly etched memories of those early years in their first church.
In 1985, I visited a war memorial with my son Paul on the island of Borneo. It was dedicated years ago to the memory of the British and Australian soldiers who perished during the notorious Sandakan Death March. We stood together, silently, on holy ground. Years later, my friend and missionary John Cedergren drove me to Camp O’Donnell, on the island of Luzon in the Philippines. It is where the merciless Bataan Death March ended. The Camp was a surprisingly small, walled cemetery, yet holy ground, nonetheless.
The Aussie soldier who sent home for a sack of soil, fertilizer, and some seed wanted a bit of Australia to stand on, I hope he made it home safely. His mates must have liked his idea because they lined up to stand on that little bit of sacred soil before going out on patrol. Was it to bring them good luck? Maybe. But probably more in the hope of a safe return home to their loved ones. A quiet moment of sweet memories while standing on holy ground.
Christians stand on holy ground when we come before the throne of God’s grace, which for us is the place of greatest privilege: the “holy of holies”. It is a place scented with the memory of the Garden Tomb on Resurrection morning. There are times when we feel like removing our shoes out of love for our risen Lord.
Our greatest hope is that we shall one day rise to stand blameless before the God of heaven and earth. The holy ground on which we stand in the meantime is our relationship with our heavenly Father through the shed blood of His Son. Holy ground indeed!
But unlike Moses, who received God’s rigid Law for Israel amid thunder and lightning, we are able to “come boldly to the throne of grace, so that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16) In this unholy world we need to stand on something sacred.
Have you a place of holy ground in the unholy world around you? If not, I suggest that you set aside a daily time of prayer in a room or garden setting that to you will become sacred – your own special and very personal holy ground.