In the Holy Temple of Israel, there was a veil that separated people from the immense presence of God that rested in the Holy of Holies—the most sacred and innermost place in the temple. When Jesus died and conquered sin and death, the veil was physically and spiritually torn. When that happened, the presences of God rushed into the world— giving us access to that very presence.
Now, His kingdom, His presence, His being constantly surrounds us. It is in the air we breathe, the floor we walk on, the blood in our veins. This is a hard thing to visualize, let alone experience. It is hard to feel the sacred in the monotony of the day to day. We can forget that we walk on sacred ground, we can forget the sacredness of humanity, that God breathed life into our lungs.
His presence can feel distant and cold. We have a hard time imagining that God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob could be walking around in our offices, our homes, our schools. It is difficult to even partially begin to think that the presence of the God who divided the seas, healed the leper and created humanity, could be near us—colliding the sacred with the mundane.
And yet, He is. We can see His breath in the stirring of the trees, His tenderness is the hug of a friend, His creativity in the fissures in mountains, His joyfulness in the laughter of loved ones. We can breathe His presence into our lungs. He sits, rests, lives in the small moments of sacredness, the achingly tiny moments of holiness: between the cells in your skin, between your heart beats, amongst tears, amongst friends. God sits, rests, lives in the sacred, small moments of profound love that causes all of earth and heaven to continue existing.