We experienced a sort of holy moment at our women's conference.
One of the speakers had the women partner up and wash each other's feet. It was very "improv" in that we used glasses of water and napkins to do the job, but the awkwardness of the supplies was not enough to override the holiness of the moment.
Throughout the room, women were weeping as they served each other. They wept as they themselves were served. Walls were broken down, hearts opened wide, and the presence of God was thick and palpable.
Linda, a missionary in Botswana whom I respect deeply, called me over. "Can I wash your feet?"
I sat down and removed my shoes. As she started to wash my feet and speak words of affirmation over me, I just started to cry. I can't even put my finger on what it was that moved me; I don't think my heart was stirred by any one specific thing she said or prayed. The whole moment was just overwhelming.
Then we switched places; I washed her feet. We continued to cry together as I lifted her up before our Father.
To be served by this beautiful woman, to be flooded with sweet words from her heart, to be immersed in the presence of God... It was a holy moment indeed.