Sunday, September 30, 2012
I have been hungry for your Word, Father. Hungry for your presence. The seams of me are stretched.
I have tasted your Word; I know that it is good. I know what your Word can do in a heart, in a spirit and in a mind that is given to you. I know what your Word has the power to do.
I know because your Word has transformed me too many times to count. The tally marks would look like a cross-hatched piece of artwork.
But you call me deeper. You do not allow me to remain on a plateau of revelation for too long. Your Spirit stirs in me and reminds me of learned, but forgotten truths. Your Spirit mines up, out of the deepest recesses of my heart, truths that have been hidden. Treasures in the dark.
And there are themes and patterns I recognize. You have infused me with a love of your Word—and the symbolism and the metaphor laced through the grommets of it.
This week you reminded me. This week your Spirit took me back to a place of teaching.
We don’t live in tents anymore, but I am a tent. My heart is the temporary and earthly dwelling of Your Spirit.
I am the skin-tent of God.
My poles have stretched my skin tightly and tethered me to this world for a little while. My pegs have been hammered into the physicality of this place.
And your Word through Amos and Job* have revealed to me that You will come and have fellowship with me in this tent. You will come and sit on the cushions of this flesh and spirit tent and converse with me. You will come and have an intimate conversation with me—you will sit beside me and both of us will lean forward and speak to the other.
My God, you will be a friend of my tent.*
This one word, Father, you gave to me. This word cowdh* reminded me of what you long to do. You long to have fellowship with your people, to be invited into the interior of their tents. You do not want to simply sit at the edge of the tent flaps or stand at the entrance as so many of your people did with Moses*. Because of the tent-dwelling time of Jesus, because he gave his tent over as a sacrifice for us, because he left us, returned to you, but did not leave us orphans*, he sent the Holy Spirit to now abide in these tents of ours. We no longer have to wait at the entrance. You will join us inside out tent if we just simply ask.
Because of Jesus. Because our brother came and did what we could not do for ourselves, because our brother came and moved obstacles from our paths, because our brother came and fulfilled your every expectation, Your Spirit will and can now reside within our tent.
You do not just visit.
I ask now, come join me in my tent. It’s messy. It’s cluttered. It’s dark. But come anyway, please?
I welcome you into this skin-tent of mine. Please come and sit with me on my cushions and recline with me on my pillows. Let’s talk and reason together.* Come and have fellowship with me.
I welcome you.
Come this morning.
Job 29: 21-27
Exodus 33: 10
Cowdh—Hebrew for secret, intimate friendship
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