The recent death of the truly inimitable preacher of the Gospel Rev. Charles Grisham had such a powerful effect on me that I have been deeply moved in my soul, and have considered at length how it is that we stand in the holy presence of God, and how it is possible that at these times we may not recognize the ordained turf beneath our feet, nor truly discern the lofty calibre of those with whom we associate. I met Brother Grisham when I attended Apostolic College in Tulsa, Ok. where at the church associated with the college, pastored by Rev. C. P. Williams, we routinely had services which were distinctly touched by the presence of God. I had never before, not have I since, been in a church such as that one. First Apostolic Church of Tulsa holds a dear and revered place in my heart. I was just 17 years old then, and now am 76, but during these long intervening years, the glory and the wonder of that place have not faded from my mind. Special God-ordained places have existed since antiquity; indeed one biblical account of such is quite familiar to most Christians around the globe. The startling account is recorded in the book of Exodus as young Moses tended sheep in a wilderness area near Mount Horeb. His attention was caught by the sight of a bush, no doubt an ordinary scrubby plant and of no particular beauty. Except, that it was aflame! Moses gazed at the bush, perhaps startled by the fire itself, but particularly intrigued and puzzled, for although the fire continued to blaze, the bush itself was not consumed. It’s form remained, its branches twisting and turning in the identical pattern as had been so at the beginning of the burning. Moses stared. And then, from the bush, a voice spoke–God’s voice. Don’t go any nearer, Moses. This is holy ground. Bend over. Take your shoes off. You are standing on holy ground. So, tonight, to my children, other friends and family, and to you if you escape those categories, I encourage the long consideration of the holiness you may encounter today or tomorrow or next week. There will likely be no radio announcement of the event, nor other media notification, no billboard, nor airborne blimp trailing a sign. Rather you may note a unique fire in the eye of a man or woman of God, or note a sense of another world in his words, and when he leaves the room it is as though the air has been sucked thin, but a warmth lingers, pure, good. You may experience a distinct sense of the holy in a church service, or as you thumb God’s Word, or as you pray in your living room as the sun tips its hand one morning. Be not reluctant to acknowledge such an essence, such an entity, such a wonder as the holy, unusual presence of God. Let us with care sense those about us who are uniquely touched by God. Our days are long and mundane at the best; more likely as beads on a string, they are threaded with worry, disaster, and with heartbreak. Wise are we to finger the ordained and hallowed that brush against our needy selves.