Maybe-- even here.

“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it. . . . 

How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.” --Genesis 28:16b, 17

It all started this morning with a lovely reflection from The Upper Room folks, quoting The Africana Worship Book, Year A:

‎"An altar, a pew, a seat on a bus, a kitchen table: all become holy places when we confess before God. Today, in this holy place, God meets us, hears us, and forgives us. In this holy place, God empowers us with genuine love to share with a hurting world. Be for God a holy loving people." (Kwasi I. Kena)

And I was completely taken by those words.

Every Thursday, a handful of us gather at the local bagel place for a time of community and prayer. (These are my Baptist friends. We intermingle. In public. lol) It's early. We meet at 6:45, before the day gets too crazy, and are on our way before 7:30 most days.

We always try to sit at the same table, a long one off to one side.

The other "regulars" are there: Randy, who comes to read the paper, and the woman who always brings her big plastic glass from the filling station and fills it with bagel-shop soda. Others come and go.

This morning there was a very tall, very elegant, very pregnant woman in high heels who apparently drew the short straw and got to pick up bagels for the office. (Very pregnant.)

The intoxicating smell of fresh coffee fills the air. I love the smell of coffee, even though I don't drink the stuff. I love the way the odors of coffee, hazelnut and fresh-baked bagels mix and mingle, announcing the start of another busy day.

Blenders blend, slicers slice. Every few minutes an obnoxious bagel timer goes off, piercing through the ordinary sounds of morning with its persistent shriek, demanding attention NOW, like a colicky baby. 

And through it all and above it all, the quiet conversations. 

Parents asking children what they want on their bagel. 

Old friends, surprised to run into one another, sharing a quick hug and a life update in thirty seconds or less. 

Some pastor lady (me) reading Scripture aloud, engaging her table mates in conversation. This morning it was about Moses and Aaron striking the rock, even when the Lord had instructed Moses only to speak  to bring forth water.

Denial from the Promised Land. A heck of a price to pay for disobedience and lack of trust in the Lord. A tough lesson this morning.

And again, I was thinking about this Upper Room message.

An altar. A pew. A table in a bagel shop. A bench at the park. A bedside chair in a hospital room. The rocker in a child's nursery.

Anywhere. Any place at all becomes holy ground when we pause to seek the face of the Almighty.

Because he is already there, just waiting for us to wake up-- and smell the coffee. 

* * * * *

Pause for a moment, right where you are. Close your eyes-- and listen. Take a breath-- and smell. Draw deeply into your lungs the life-giving presence of the Lord.

You are the temple of the Holy One. You. 

And if that is not a wonderful, wonder-filling, humbling thought, I do not know what is. 

Gracious, ever-present, ever-loving Lord, open our eyes to your presence in the everyday. May we learn to see your face in the faces of your children. And may we, like Jacob, be overcome by the reality of your most perfect love. Amen.