On first thought, conceiving of God as localized, as located on a rock, that particular place where a dream with a voice occurred, I am convinced. Why should God be relegated to a single pebble, a river rock pillow. Then I begin to wonder, should God be everywhere? Not that God is Nowhere, but should a marking be placed in the aisle of, say, a retail store? (Though, certainly, such would be a good to remember God and leave.)
There must be some places that are more holy than others, places where God is more fully known. A mountain top. A riverside. The reconciliation with an enemy. In the eyes of a handicapped person. The hand of a loved one. A reservoir of tears released. A moment of healing. Here, even without stones, monuments are built. And from those places we know God is with us. We become a presence of God.
We must remember to remember, to constantly be reawakened to the knowledge of the presence of God. The mind is freed from wandering, yet free to wonder, to explore the mysteries of God, for the imagination needs to be reshaped, else we continue to be cast in the role that the world has made for us in it poor mimicry as creator. In the hand of God we are given a true identity and as we find more holy places, we bare the marks of their stones. We begin to walk with the one who can stop the painful flow of blood, and can take the hand of a lifeless child as see her rise. See her rise. And so we rise and go, walk from the holy place with a God not localized, yet particular and distinct.
Lord, grace me with sight that sees you anywhere in particular. Yet may I also know to mark the places you most intimately make yourself known, in the silence and in the breeze, in a house of worship, even in the company of others. And may the people grow quiet with the news of your work distilled throughout the lands you tend to.
(Genesis 28:10-22, Psalm 91, Matthew 9:18-26)
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