Not Made to be Alone-Communion by Design

I don't know about you, but I don't want to be alone. 

It's scary and, well, lonely.
Fortunately, God says I don't have to be.
Remember that I will be with you always, until the end of time.--Matthew 28:20

In fact, He's been with us from the beginning of time, too. He was there, in Eden--
And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.--Genesis 3:8

And not only in Eden, but at other times with other men:
Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his time, and God walked with Noah.--Genesis 6:10
And the Lord spoke to Abram.--Genesis 12:1
Moses used to take a tent and pitch it outside the camp and pitch it some distance away, calling it the 'tent of meeting'. Anyone inquiring of the Lord would go to the tent of meeting outside the camp. --Exodus 33:7

God wants to LIVE with men, to be intimately present to everyone. So, regardless of the continual sin of man, He literally moved in with us.
First, He settled into the Holy of Holies, the innermost chamber of the Israelites' desert tabernacle:
A cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.--Exodus 40-34

Then, later, He did the same in Solomon's temple:
When Solomon finished praying, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offerings, and the glory of the Lord filled the temple.--2Chronicles 7:1

And although between each encounter there was some kind of separation--the sin of Adam and Eve, the flood, times of idolatry and slavery, even outright destruction, God could not leave it alone. He could not leave US alone.
And He came again, this time into Herod's temple.
When the time came for the purification rites required by the Law of Moses, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord.--Luke 2:22

Jesus came. God returned to the temple, but not in cloud or flame like before. He came like a child. 

And He wasn't done yet.
He did more.
And in Him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.--Ephesians 2:22

That's it. God's last stop. Us.
When Christ came as a man, He made a way men could be sanctified, a way we could join to Him.
Don't feel like a suitable habitation for the living God?
Think again.

God's original plan for His first tabernacle came in three parts--
First, a courtyard designated for sacrifice. A place of blood and moaning, a place of washing and preparation and repentance. A place of intense feeling. A place that looked and smelled and tasted and sounded constantly, full of suffering, supplication, and promised relief.
Second, a Holy Place designated for prayer. A place that housed sweet smells rather than visceral ones, new bread rather than raw meat and offal. A place that offered low, comforting light rather than the harsh, punishing, unrelenting sun.
Third, a Most Holy Place in which the God's Very Presence dwelt. A place of glory. A place of communion. A place of awe.

That was the first temple. But now that the temple has relocated from structures made of wood and animal skins, gold and silver, does it really look any different?
Not really.
First, God's current temple has a courtyard of flesh and blood. A place intense with feeling--easily hurt and constantly in need. A place that sees, hears, touches, tastes, and smells. A place unrelentingly tainted. A place that pulses with constant blood.
Second, God's current temple has a Holy Place, a soul that stills the outer courtyard's cacophony and prepares itself. A place that quiets, still tasting and touching and seeing, but in contemplation and anticipation. A place where we taste the Living Bread, see the Light of the World, and where we pray.
Third, God's current temple also has a Most Holy Place, a spirit that communes with God.  A place of sweet fellowship and complete knowing. A place of both perfect rest and unremitting awe.

And that's it. 
Emmanuel--God with us.
Living in you and me. Three in one. God and man. Not perfected yet, but a perfect design.
We were not made to be alone. Ever.
Christ in you, the hope of glory.--Colossians 1:27

You Can't Change Anything From Inside the Limo

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Things change.
They do. Always. I can't do anything about that.
I don't always like it, though. Like when kids grow up and move away. Like when parents or friends or spouses die. Heck, I don't even like it when a favorite restaurant changes their menu or skirt lengths go short again.
But sometimes...sometimes I just know things HAVE to change. And, even worse, that I'm the one who's supposed to help change them.

I can't even imagine how Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King or Nelson Mandela felt. Yikes. They changed BIG things. My convicted changes aren't that big--not even close. But they're big to me. And, like those famous men, I have to figure out how to implement them. Whether it's school reform, or property taxes, or how my church runs their Sunday school, change sometimes calls me to work, and I am going to need a plan.

My first big experience with this came in business. I worked for a company top-heavy in wealth and privilege. The men and women who worked in our factory worked hard--really hard--and got none of the perks I saw handed out liberally to managers and executives--bonuses, both cash and non-cash. It wasn't right, I thought from my entry level office desk. If I ever got the chance to change that...well, I would.

Eventually, I got the chance.

When I got promoted to Vice President, I had big plans. I would shine a new light into the executive offices. I would make the changes I'd always seen needed making. But then, on my next business trip, the company paid for a limo to pick me up at 5AM and take me to the airport. Instead of sending it away and driving myself, I settled deep into the leather seats and napped. And a few months later, when I realized that the bonus I got that year would pay for my younger son's college education, I didn't cash the check and distribute it to those hard working men and women on the shop floor like I'd planned to do. Instead, I deposited into our savings account.

Were these things evil? Not really. But they serve to demonstrate something I learned the hard way then and in the long years that followed. Even after I'd stopped joining the excess and started fighting it, the big boys didn't care that I didn't want to play with them. It didn't matter to them at all, as long as I didn't interfere with their fun. And I didn't interfere, but not because I didn't want to. I didn't stop them from their greed because I didn't have the clout to do it. They couldn't care less what I thought or did. To them, my example was not eye opening--it was, maybe, faintly amusing. Finally, I did the only thing I could decently do. I gave up and got out.

This is what I learned: real change does not generally come from the inside.  Not unless the changer is also in charge. Kings can exert change. Sometimes very disciplined presidents and CEO's can. But not the rest of us. If we want to change something, we have to step out of it first. I saw this in business, but I also saw it in the school where I later taught and in the church we attended. There, too, we tried to enact change from the inside and found that it couldn't be done.

God knows this, too.
Example: Right after Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem to waving palm branches and cries of 'Hosanna', what did He do? He marched right over to the temple and chased out the money changers for the second time.
It is written--My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves!--Matthew 21:13
And what happened?
The scribes and the chief priests heard it and sought out how they might destroy him.--Mark 11:18

Jesus didn't become a temple honcho first. He came in almost incognito--a young guy from a small town, but with wisdom and a mission He thoroughly understood. He could see clearly from the outside, whether from heaven or from Nazareth or from the back of a donkey, the kind of corruption so rarely visible from inside.

Obviously, I am prejudiced by my own experience. The hierarchy surrounding my own situations chewed me up and spit me out. Just like Jesus. Well, almost.

And that's my takeaway from all this. The people Christ criticized destroyed Him, or tried to. When they were finished with him, He was certainly very dead. But the same as He did, I rose up from each of my experiences remade, better than I'd begun. And amazingly, in the process, some of the things that needed changing did change. Not directly from what I did, but they did change, and some are still changing.

Just like Jesus, I left each of these situations an outcast, but not untouched, unchanged. And I learned to trust that God will use my actions in His own way. I also now know not to trust reformers with a stake in the status quo, but only those who have nothing to lose by changing it.
They have the vision. They follow the right example.

Looking for the Holy Church

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For the past few years, we've been trying to find the church. Not a church, but the church. 

It's easy to find a church--a community of believers who gather once a week to worship God, connect with one another, and work together to further His kingdom. There are lots of buildings that house communities like this and every Sunday, we are in one of them. But often, I come away unsatisfied, like I have missed something important. We have sung, we have prayed, we have listened to a good lesson, we have hugged and shook hands with friends, but something is missing and now I think I'm beginning to understand what it is.

I expect something else from God's church, something important. I expect the church, more than anything else, to be holy. Holy--as in completely dedicated to God. I expect the people who gather in that building to cling unreservedly to Him. To worship Him, to kneel humbly before Him because we know corporately as well as singly who He is. He is God and we are not.

The church I yearn for does not put on a pretty face. The church I yearn for falls down in thanksgiving, not just raises its hands in praise. The church I yearn for does not just look for one another in their accustomed places. It looks for God. God first, second, and third--Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Everything--everything--else comes after.
A feeling of togetherness comes after.
Personal development comes after.
Good sermons come after.
Jobs and committees come after.
Witnessing comes after.
Activities come after.
Ministries come after.
Good works come after.

I want holiness. I want from my church complete dedication to God's very person, all the parts of Him--incarnated Man and supernatural Spirit.

I am entirely convinced that the church is not primarily the place to work with and learn from and celebrate with one another, but to learn together to be like God. He has commanded us to perfection in Him and given us the church as the place where we strive to attain that together. Our church, like the tabernacle of Israel, needs to be a Holy of Holies, a place we must approach on our knees in reverent fear, not a place where we only sing for joy, clap, and wave our hands. The church I yearn for concentrates not primarily on our friendship with God, but on what still separates us--not on what we have, or on what God as done, but on what He has asked us to be.

I want a church that holds up God's seemingly-impossible standard of holiness and urges me forward toward it, reminding me to have courage and strain for what is still beyond my grasp. Don't tell me about your wonderful pastor or friendly congregation or uplifting programs or helpful ministries. Tell me that, together, you unswervingly desire and work to be more like God.

Be ye holy as I am holy.--Leviticus 20:7, 1Peter 1:16

Please, please give me a church who looks at her bridegroom with the same singlemindedness as a bride on her wedding day, all but blind to everything and everyone else, but promising the fruit of that devotion in everything else she does.

...prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.--Revelation 21:2

Believing It Will Rain

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Noah. Almost everybody knows his story.
God told him to build a boat and, in it, put all the animals two by two because He planned to flood the earth. And Noah did.
It wasn't an easy job, though. The boat had to be one and a half football fields long. It took Noah 100 years to finish the job. His neighbors made fun of him, of course, but he remained faithful to the task.
I always thought Noah was an example of perseverance, but I was wrong.
Noah is an example of faith.

By faith, Noah, being warned by God concerning events as yet unseen, took heed and constructed an ark for the saving of his household; by this he condemned the world and became an heir of the righteousness which comes by faith.--Hebrews 11:7

Remember, faith is believing in what we have never seen. So what was Noah's leap of faith?
He had never seen rain.
In his experience, water had never fallen from the sky.
Now, that gives the whole boat building thing a new twist. How could he explain to anyone--his wife, his kids, everyone he knew--what he was doing? There was no way. It would make more practical sense for me to build a rocket ship in my backyard. At least I'd be able to point to the sky and the stars and say, "See? I'm going there!"  Not Noah.

So that begs the question, if Noah is an example of faith, what is my ark? Where is my promise of rain?
That is easier.
A God I can't see. A heaven I can't touch. An inner knowledge I can't explain.
My ark. My rain. My faith.

Walking on What Remains

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I'm old enough now to know that I will not do everything I planned to do. 

But I am not alone in this. It happened to King David, too.
He was coming to the end of his life and he hadn't built a temple to God, a place to worship, a place for Israel to meet the magnificent King of Heaven who had kept David company all of his life.
And he would never do it. God denied it to him because, although he was a man after God's own heart, he was also a man whose life had covered his hands in blood, too much blood to make them suitable for the job he so wanted to do.
And David, like the rest of us, did not get life do-overs. 

But this is his lesson and mine--we are not always given the work we expect, but we are always given work under God.
For David, the temple preparation became his work, and he set to it with all his might.
And so it is with me, and maybe with you, too.
There are some things not permitted me because of some of the sinful paths I've chosen. However, not all ways are sealed. Some remain.

Though much is taken, much abides.
And though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven,
that which we are, we are...*

Although we are often unfaithful, God is not.
With age, our life's stage shrinks, but until we die, it does not disappear.
My stage is no longer as broad as it once was, but I can still walk on what remains.
God still gives life in generous handfuls, and means for me, for all of us, to live it.
And, when the end does come, that living will allow me to echo David's joy:
I can sing this song every day without exception. No day lacks the beauty of God. My time will never run out. It is in Your hands.--Psalm 104: 23,24,31,3,34

*Tennyson, "Ulysses"

New Temple, New Fire, New Freedom

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The Holy of Holies.
The place where God dwelt among His people.
The place where men could not enter for fear of death because of God's monumental glory.

This the measure of the magnitude of what Christ has done:
The same glory that dwelt in the Holy of Holies now dwells in us.
God promised.
The nations shall know that I, the Lord, make Israel holy by putting my sanctuary among them forever.--Ezekiel 37:28

Forever. He dwells with His people forever. Even after His brick-and-mortar sanctuary has long lain in ruins.
Christ not only rent the temple curtain.
He sent His Spirit, the same Spirit that dwelt in that sacred place, and made it resident in you and me.

Christ freed us in this and, in a way, also freed Himself.
No longer is He confined to a place, but He is broadcast like seed among a walking, talking people.
No longer does humanity come to the temple--or to church--to see God.
Humanity looks at us.

God has completed His covenant, not by re-building a new temple, but by building up His people.
In what ways do you know that you are the construct of God?

Pushed into Shape

Life applies constant pressure, but I have a bad habit of ignoring it.
It pushes and I push back.
It takes my head in both hands and turns me in one direction and I look longingly to another.

And all the while, I do not see that the hands that redirect are God's.

I went down to the potter's house and I saw him working at the wheel, but the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands, so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.--Jeremiah 18:3-4

God gave me the right to go my own way, but He did not consent to make me comfortable there.  He promises to correct, to amend, to shape me relentlessly.


He, and only He, knows my intended shape, and this is it:
I am supposed to look like Him. 
 
He builds and rebuilds, always to the same model: His own.  He knows I mess myself up and constantly applies the pressure necessary to re-form me.

My God, my Creator, wants me to recover my original design.
Everything that He brings me in the course of living is designed to achieve this.
As long as I wake up every day, I am not finished.
My most important job is not to preach, or teach, or witness, or work.
It is worship Him and thus, to return fully to Him.  Period.

I work not to get a job done, but because God works.
I sacrifice not to achieve an end, but because God sacrificed.
I love not to further a relationship, but because God is love.

Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand...--Jeremiah 18:6
For every living soul belongs to me...--Ezekiel 18:1

Every time I yield to Your touch, I come closer to Your side, O Lord.  The pot you are making bears the marks of Your hands, but when you release it, looks like You.

Here is the Church

"Oh, she's a work in progress..."
"God isn't finished with me yet..."
How often have we used familiar words so casually?  They're true enough, but what are we really thinking?

Building evokes grand plans for the future, and God uses them as images for lives of faith intentionally. Putting brick on brick brings hope.  Nailing together fresh 2x4's reminds us that we believe both in beginnings and in completions.  


You will call your walls Salvation and your gates Praise.--Isaiah 60:18

Yes, God builds in us something corporeal and firm, something that He expects to stand forever.  We are His temple, and He says we are to be known as Salvation and Praise.  We do not stand as just any common building.  We rise forth as His temple.

You, also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.--1 Peter 2:4-5

God provides both the blueprint and the building materials: faith, love, forgiveness, redemption...all of it.  He places his wood and brick in us one on another over the foundation of His Son and He expects us to stand.

Remember what goes on in a temple:  repentance, restoration, prayer, praise, sacrifice.  This is what is supposed to go on in us.

Remember that childhood game..."Here's the church, here's the steeple..."?  You and I are the church that stands as God's landmark.  You and I are the steeple that calls people to prayer and worship.  You and I welcome the people that throng to our gates. 

God builds on us through His own perfect will and for His own glory.  Unlock the doors, fling them open.  God lives in us.  Work in progress, indeed.