Unlike the Illinois State Fair nestled among cornfields and the State Capitol building, the Michigan State Fair, for years, made its home along Eight Mile Road and Woodward Avenue in Detroit. For my family and me, the state fair was the ideal destination for the last summer fling—all those odd giant vegetables, livestock, cotton candy and rides just a short city bus ride from our house.

The fair became part of my childhood memories until my post-college years. Friends had rented a house right across the street from my beloved fairgrounds. I thought it was so cool that they had their own place just out of college.

One summer evening, after dinner at their house, we sat on the porch looking at the fairgrounds that were still closed for the season. Funny, how I never before noticed how tired the buildings looked or the barbed wire at the top of the fence or the cracks in the sidewalk.

Our conversation drifted from the fair to books to our shared faith in Jesus. At some point, we stopped talking, and in the silence, something happened. The night turned solemn. We had been talking about really surrendering ourselves to Christ. We all knew that this was the point of no return—either we follow Christ fully or give it up. In that moment, those scruffy, worn-out fairgrounds had become a holy place.

What makes a place holy? A wilderness becomes holy ground when a bush burns and isn’t consumed. Exodus 3 describes a curious Moses wanting to see this great sight, but there was something greater that God wanted him to see and understand—that Moses was standing on holy ground, ground made holy because God was with him, and God saw, heard and knew the sufferings of his people.

There’s a tent that becomes a portable holy place. It wasn't just any tent. It was a spectacular tent, and when covered with a cloud, it was filled with the glory of the Lord. And when the cloud was taken up, the children of Israel packed up the tent and moved on—following fire, cloud and God himself.

Major world religions boast of holy cities and sacred temples where their gods reside. People go on pilgrimages, choosing to spend thousands of dollars just to get to that holy place. Just to stand or kneel, just to see it, to be there.

But a historic city or landmark, a burning bush or the tent filled with smoke don't make anything holy. It's the presence of the Lord God Almighty.

The one true God, well, he chose us. The tent in the wilderness pointed to another, better portable holy place who left heaven to pitch his tent among “us to show his glory, glory as the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14), to bring life to the dead and light to those who walked in great darkness.

God also calls us and chooses us as holy and beloved ones to live out his grace and truth with “compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” (Colossians 3:12), in places where ordinary bushes, tents, fire, clouds and fairgrounds and even our very bodies become holy ground.