HOLY GROUND

Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you?                                                            I Corinthians 3:16

Jewish men in the age of Law were required to go to the Temple three times a year on the highest holy days. Those who lived too far away to bring what they would sacrifice were allowed to buy animals and grains on site.

But first they had to exchange their common coins, which bore the images of pagan rulers, for the untainted sanctuary shekel. For this reason, a market and “bank” grew up in the outer court of the Temple.

An acceptable purpose—but the priests couldn’t miss this amazing business opportunity. Coins were exchanged—for a fee, of course. Lambs brought from home were judged unacceptable. “Better” ones were sold to their owners, then those “unacceptable” lambs were put in with the temple flock and sold to the next sucker.

God’s house of prayer for all nations—the Court of the Gentiles—had become a den of robbers, and the whole Temple was defiled. No wonder Jesus was angry enough to blow up at them.

Today, in the age of grace, God’s Spirit lives not in a Temple of stone, but in His children. We are His Temple, corporately and individually. We are holy ground, set apart for His exclusive use.

How do we treat His home? Have we made it a den of thieves?

“Be holy, for I am holy,” He said. “Be in the world, but not of it.”

But we cannot—unless He does it through us.

That Monday morning was the second recorded time He cleansed the Temple. Men of flesh, living here in a broken world, will fall, again and again. And He will cleanse us, again and again. He’s the God of second chances, and third, and fourth, and… 

All we have to do is tell Him we messed up, ask for His forgiveness, and mean it.

Avi, so many things in this attractive world compete for Your place in my heart. Live in me, and help me to remember who You are and what You are to me: my Father, my Redeemer, my Lord and my God. Clean me up again as many times as it takes—and don’t forget the front porch rocking chairs and the welcome mat. In Your holy name, Amen.   

THE SUBSTITUTE

… Jesus … suffered death, so that by the grace of God He might taste death for everyone. Hebrews 2:9 NIV

Another gem from Kyle Idleman’s “The Easter Experience”* video series: Rembrandt painted the crucifixion. Below the cross, in a crowd of people dressed as those who lived when Jesus walked in Israel, one man stood out: Rembrandt himself, dressed in clothing from his own time period.

“If you were to paint yourself into the crucifixion story,” Kyle then asked, “who would you be?”

There’s no need for imagination. I was there, in the guise of all my failures, all my sin. I was the owner of the third cross. The mockery, the scorn, the curses should have fallen on me. I was the one who should have stumbled alone through the streets of shame under that cross, blood running down my back and pooling under my feet.

But He took my burden from me. He fell beneath the weight of my cross. He was crushed by the weight of my sin.

Then, when we had climbed Golgotha’s hill and I was flung down upon the cross, He held out a hand. 

“Halt.”

As the hammer held to its place in midair, He nudged me gently aside and lay down to receive my nails, my death, in the very hands that had given me life.

The hands that now have given me new life abundant.

Come and see. Come and see what God has done.

Avi, thank You for loving us enough to give us the freedom to choose, and for letting us make enough bad choices to see how much we need You. Thank You for making all things work together for good for those who love You, despite the choices we make. Thank You for making a way back home, and paying the price to save us from our choices. In Your holy name, Amen.

*”The Easter Experience” video series can be accessed at www.rightnow.org.

CHOICES

“…to their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting Him to public disgrace.” Hebrews 6:6

Our Sunday School teacher ended the class by passing out 8” spikes. “Take this nail home and put it somewhere that you can see it every morning. Then, every time you see it, remember and ask yourself this question: ‘Today I will crucify someone. Will it be myself, or will it be Christ.’”

Whew!

I’m sure no true Christian wants to re-crucify the Lord we love—but do we? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

How do we treat the people He loves and died for? Do we serve them? Do we, His hands, His feet, His voice, love them as He loved them? Do we love and serve Him?

His answer? “As you have done it to the least of these, so you have done it unto Me.”

Choices.

We are living sacrifices, and every decision we make has Kingdom consequences. How do we spend our time here at the end of time? How do we spend our talents, our energy? TV, computer games, social media, sports, workouts, hobbies, kicking back with whatever relaxes us…  

And yeah, I’m preaching to myself here, too.

None of these things are wrong in themselves. Many of them are even ways to build bridges and serve—but we must examine our motives, and we must count the cost. Everything is permissible—we are no longer under the Law, but under grace—but not everything is beneficial. Do our choices drain us? Do they rob us of time with God? Do they waste opportunities?

Tim Hansel wrote that the trouble with a living sacrifice is that it keeps crawling off the altar, for good reason. Living sacrifices. Sounds likes pain. Sounds humanly impossible—and it is.  

The good news is that we don’t have to do it alone.

Avi, I’m not good at this sacrifice business. I see the end of my strength, and I hoard what’s left. Time flies like the wind, and the less there is, the faster it flies. I see the end of my days fast approaching. Help me to keep my eyes on You, the Master of the Wind, and not on the hurricane.

In Your holy name, Amen.

COMMENTS

Hey all,

I finally got it fixed so people can leave comments. I'm really interested in finding out who's tuning in to my blogs, and whether they're making a difference to people. Write, and I'll try to answer.

Grace

THE PRIZE

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2 NIV

Watching "The Easter Experience”, video series by Kyle Idleman, number whatever, the beating of Jesus dramatized.

The pole, complete with chain and wrist cuffs. The many-tailed flagellum with its embedded stones and razor-sharp pieces of bone floating through the air in slow motion. The shredded, bloody back.

The women, grief-stricken. One soldier puzzled, questioning. Others callow, joking, scarfing down food as they watched.

The face of Jesus: grief, pity, determination; the recoil of pain as the crown of thorns was pressed onto His head and soldiers bowed in a mockery of worship.

Arrogant Pharisees, satisfied that they had Him at last.

The camera pans from sight to sight in silence.

The silence is broken by the voice of a child singing: “Baruch ata, Adonai, Elohenu, Adonai echad…” (Blessed are You, Lord, our God, the Lord is One…)

Baruch: blessed, happy, joyful. The context is peace.

Blessed? Happy? Joyful? At peace? No way. Unless the prize is worth it. And what is that priceless prize?

A bunch of sinners—including me.

Who am I, that a King should die for me?

I am His child.

Avi, thank You for the hard, lonely lessons that taught me just how much I need You. Thank You for washing me clean and taking me into Your own family, for giving me new life abundant with You, for being my home in this broken, rootless world. Let me never forget what it cost You. In Your holy name, Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FLOOD

 

“The Father gave the Son

The Son gave the Spirit

The Spirit gives us life

So we can give the gift of love

And the gift goes on, and the gift goes on…”

I woke this morning, my heart overwhelmed by this Sandi Patty song like water overtaking a dry and thirsty land.

A gentle rain blows in over the desert. A rivulet gathers, spreads, halts at every tiny resistance, waits. The water beads up, builds. Finally that small dam is overcome and the water flows, creating new channels for itself.

Another obstacle: a crest of soil, a twig, a stone, a leaf. The water waits and grows stronger—then its opponent yields and is swept away.

Again the water flows, and again, and again, until the whole floodplain is covered.

The desert drinks its fill of His unfailing love. The soil is ready, moist and fertile.

 The arid seed long blown on Eden’s fiery wind settles, awakens, drinks the life-giving water. It swells, softens, and dies.

The seed breaks open—and from the tiny coffin new life abundant spills. A branch springs forth, drinking deep of God’s mercy, reaching for the sun of His heart, hanging heavy with the fruit of a life rooted in Him.

Just so the gentle love of God our suitor. He approaches gently, waits patiently. He will not force his will, but overcomes every doubt, every objection, until the convinced heart finds its home in Him.

Love without choice isn’t love, Avi. It isn’t real. Thank You for giving me that choice, and for teaching me what love really is. I choose You. In Your holy name, Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE LETTER

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on His feet and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. John 12:3 NIV

We’ve started choir practice for the Easter cantata, so my mind is on Resurrection Sunday and Good Friday. This is probably what you’ll get for the next few weeks.

Crucifixion is maximum bad, especially if you’re innocent, but Jesus’ dread in Gethsemane was even more about the pending separation from His Father. God would turn from the sin His Son bore—our sin—and leave Him to suffer alone.

But was He alone?

From the triumphal entry, through His final, fruitless efforts to persuade the lost sheep of Israel. Through the last supper in the upper room where his disciples argued for position and Judas left to betray Him. Through the lonely agony of Gethsemane when His three closest disciples abandoned Him in sleep. Through the beatings, the putdowns, the crown of thorns, the injustices of His illegal trials. Through Peter’s denial. Down the Via Dolorosa with the rough cross grinding into the raw, naked flesh of His back. Enduring the nails hammered into the major nerves of His wrists, into the bones of His feet. Enduring the mockery of those He was dying for. Seeing His mother’s suffering.

And over it all, the crushing weight of every sin of every person, every sin past, present and future.

Add to that the sight of His Father’s back as He turned His face from those sins. But there was no hiding the Father’s broken heart. This, too, He bore.

Alone?

Never.

God will not leave us—or His only begotten Son—without comfort. (Isaiah 49:13) Through it all, the constant odor of a love letter from a grateful child of God: “Your suffering is not in vain. Some love You, and will love You. Some will accept Your sacrifice and sit with You in Heaven.”

Did Mary realize how great her deed really was? Little is much when God is in it.

Avi, let my life be just such a love letter to You. Let the fragrance of my words poured at Your feet fill this world. In Your holy name, Amen