There are holy moments in life that cannot be explained, only experienced, to be fully understood. How can you put into words the joy of the birth of a child? What could you say to express the sorrow of a cancer diagnosis? These moments are too unique to explain to someone who hasn't experienced them. In pastoral ministry, I have the honor of experiencing two holy moments: the first kiss and the final breaths.
I have only had the opportunity to officiate a few weddings, but they have been a profound joy to be a part of. Being able to say, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!" is iconic and just flat-out cool to do. But the moment that follows that saying is too holy and precious for me to watch. I have to turn away as these two individuals celebrate with their first kiss of a lifelong commitment. When I was in the crowd at a wedding, I didn't feel this weight. But as I stand mere feet away, it feels too special for me. It's a joyous holy moment. But not all holy moments come with this wonderful feeling.
The weight of being in the room as someone is drawing their final breaths is another kind of holy. There is no script to follow, nor a crowd cheering. There is silence and sadness. During these moments, I can feel the sorrow of the family as they wait. While we can reminisce about the joyous times of that person's life, nothing can rid the room of the feeling that the holy moment is approaching. Assurance of their salvation is the only way to catch a breath as they take their final ones. It is a somber, sometimes hopeful, holy moment.
These holy moments cause me to reflect on the holiness of God because I feel unworthy to be present when they happen. They help me to appreciate the miracle of God's closeness. It reminds me of Revelation 1 where John sees his holy God,
Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead.
How can a God of such purity and holiness, deserving of such worship, choose to be near me? Surely the only right response to His presence is to do more than just look away, but to fall down at His feet as though dead! And yet, because of the sacrifice of His own Son, His nearness is my good (Ps. 73:28). What a holy moment it will be when we stand in the fullness of His presence one day.
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