I really do believe there is such a thing as a sacred place. I am not really using the term in a profoundly theological manner. I would say that there is such a thing as a special place, but sacred is more descriptive. The campus of Lubbock Christian University is a sacred place for me. I can still go and stand in the very place where I first got to know Jan during the spring semester of 1983. We sat next to each other in a sociology course, and ended up having lengthy talks after class in the mall area of the campus. The trees in that mall are much bigger today. The campus today just looks different, but our little spot remains sacred. Romance bloomed in there. It is just sacred.

Our first home in Lubbock was a dump. We lived in a duplex in what was commonly referred to at that time as “The Sunset Ghetto.” The affectionate term for our neighborhood was given by Sunset School of Preaching students who lived in the inexpensive rental properties in that area. Our little home was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. The carpet no doubt was installed in 1957. It was filled with an odd assortment of vintage early marriage furniture. I suspect those pieces are now for sale in an antique shop for a handsome price today. But it was our first home, and it remains a sacred place.

The little church in Hamby right outside of Abilene is sometimes referred to as the church of the “Holy Belt Buckle.” Students coming from a rural background in the 1980’s were drawn to the country church at Hamby. Willard Tate is an outstanding preacher. He drew crowds of students every Sunday out at Hamby. I was fortunate enough to be a ministry intern for that church from 1985-1987. To say that they were good to us during that time period is the understatement of the year. The church building is simple. The auditorium is very plain. There is a medal building attached to the auditorium that houses an equally simple fellowship area used to feed hungry college kids. I preached my very first sermons in the pulpit at that church. The people there were encouraging and kinder than I deserved. The little church at Hamby will always be a sacred place.

I heard not long ago that the hospital where Randall and Daniel were both born may soon be closed. I am really not sure why they did not consult with me first, but I suppose they are going to do what they want. How can such a place not be sacred? The very building where two of my children entered the world… It is the place where I held them for the first time. And then Mitchell entered this world in 1996 at St. Mary’s Hospital in Lubbock. It too is a sacred place in more ways than one… I had a very strange feeling when I walked out of that hospital with him in my arms, because in 1978 I left that hospital moments after my father passed away in the very same place. It was a healing experience that is hard to describe, and it made that place sacred in a unique way.

I think it is good to travel back to the sacred places. They are a tangible reminder of God’s presence and work in our lives. They remind us that God puts people in our lives at the right time and in the right place. When we visit the sacred places of our lives, we can’t help but give thanks. Take a journey back to one of your sacred places soon, and give God the glory for the things He has done in your life.