The Lord reigns, let the peoples tremble! He sits enthroned upon the cherubim. Let the earth quake! The Lord is great in Zion. He is exalted over all the peoples. Let them praise Your great and awesome name! Holy is He! The King in His might loves justice. You have established equity. You have executed justice and righteousness in Jacob. Exalt the Lord our God. Worship at His footstool! Holy is He! (Verses 1-5)
Once a year the priest was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies to offer sacrifices for the people. He would go in with fear and trembling because the Presence of God set foot in the sanctuary on that day to listen to the pleas of the priest for the nation of Israel. I have often wondered what that must have been like--to see the shekinah of God light up the holy place as He sat above the golden cherubim waiting for the quaking priest. To know in that moment I would be face to face with God--that He also would be unquestionably looking at me there, too. That I would have the honor and the onus of representing a sinful nation to a holy God. Bringing our uncleanness into His holiness. Our dark deeds into the glory of His light. I think I'd be more conscious than ever of the great chasm between my God and me. Could I ever be clean enough to be so very near to Him? I would know I bring my frail humanity to be judged by the One Judge of all. How could He ever right all my wrongs, much less the wrongs of an entire nation? I would lie awake all the night before I walked on shaky legs through the thick, high curtain thinking what I could possibly say to God about my own behavior over the last year. Wonder that my unholy feet could stand in the same place where my God puts His own. Excitement would make my stomach growl and my head swim. I will see God shining in His sanctuary! Conforming Himself to a ball of light over the ark that holds the representations of our sinfulness and His provision--Aaron's rod that budded, some manna, and the tablets of the Law. The mercy seat God's footstool.
And yet this morning, I took for granted just a little bit that the veil of the temple was torn in two when Jesus died. That His sacrifice once for all made my coming into the Presence possible every minute of every day of every year. God awaits in His brilliance and holiness for me to come boldly before the throne of grace (Hebrews 4). To receive mercy directly from a nail-scarred hand. To delight in His shekinah, bathe in its radiance, reflect its glory. I am received into the Holy of Holies by the just and righteous God Who has become also my Father. He's bestowed on me all the inheritance of His Son. I am a joint heir with Christ. The Righteous and Holy One loves me that much.
What would I do without access to my Father? I can't imagine life without entrance to His presence. To whom would I have given thanks on those days when life surprised me with a gift so rich and appropriate I wanted to burst with the joy of it? Births of children, new jobs, provision out of nowhere. Or when I was lost in the wilderness of my sinfulness, crying out to be saved from the searing heat of my desolation, to whom would I have cried out for rescue? Who would have been merciful and faithful to such an unholy one as I? When my heart is heavy or happy, it is to Him I want to go. For perspective or debriefing. For fellowship and discipline. I want to talk to Him. I want to listen to Him. I need His light for my dimness. His mercy for my judgments. His compassion for my apathy. I need Him in order to breathe.
I tremble in His presence. Yes. But not for the same reasons as the priests of the Law. I tremble to think my Holy God could welcome me into His inner life. That He came down to Earth to be with us because that's what His heart yearns for. Just like mine. Relationship with His own.
Ezekiel was standing at the East Gate in Jerusalem when the glory of the Lord approached. It sounded like the rushing of mighty waters and made Earth shine like the sun rising. Ezekiel fell on His face as the glory of God whooshed past him into the temple. The Spirit of God picked the prophet up and carried him into the inner court by then ablaze with the brilliance of the shekinah of God.
And then He spoke. The voice thundering from the temple, filling every space with its resonance. "Son of man, this is the place of my throne and the place of the soles of my feet, where I will dwell in the midst of the people of Israel forever." Oh, may I worship at the footstool of my God! Take on His holiness and reflect His great light. For it's a wonder that His hand embraces me, unclean, and makes me like His Son.
Once a year the priest was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies to offer sacrifices for the people. He would go in with fear and trembling because the Presence of God set foot in the sanctuary on that day to listen to the pleas of the priest for the nation of Israel. I have often wondered what that must have been like--to see the shekinah of God light up the holy place as He sat above the golden cherubim waiting for the quaking priest. To know in that moment I would be face to face with God--that He also would be unquestionably looking at me there, too. That I would have the honor and the onus of representing a sinful nation to a holy God. Bringing our uncleanness into His holiness. Our dark deeds into the glory of His light. I think I'd be more conscious than ever of the great chasm between my God and me. Could I ever be clean enough to be so very near to Him? I would know I bring my frail humanity to be judged by the One Judge of all. How could He ever right all my wrongs, much less the wrongs of an entire nation? I would lie awake all the night before I walked on shaky legs through the thick, high curtain thinking what I could possibly say to God about my own behavior over the last year. Wonder that my unholy feet could stand in the same place where my God puts His own. Excitement would make my stomach growl and my head swim. I will see God shining in His sanctuary! Conforming Himself to a ball of light over the ark that holds the representations of our sinfulness and His provision--Aaron's rod that budded, some manna, and the tablets of the Law. The mercy seat God's footstool.
And yet this morning, I took for granted just a little bit that the veil of the temple was torn in two when Jesus died. That His sacrifice once for all made my coming into the Presence possible every minute of every day of every year. God awaits in His brilliance and holiness for me to come boldly before the throne of grace (Hebrews 4). To receive mercy directly from a nail-scarred hand. To delight in His shekinah, bathe in its radiance, reflect its glory. I am received into the Holy of Holies by the just and righteous God Who has become also my Father. He's bestowed on me all the inheritance of His Son. I am a joint heir with Christ. The Righteous and Holy One loves me that much.
What would I do without access to my Father? I can't imagine life without entrance to His presence. To whom would I have given thanks on those days when life surprised me with a gift so rich and appropriate I wanted to burst with the joy of it? Births of children, new jobs, provision out of nowhere. Or when I was lost in the wilderness of my sinfulness, crying out to be saved from the searing heat of my desolation, to whom would I have cried out for rescue? Who would have been merciful and faithful to such an unholy one as I? When my heart is heavy or happy, it is to Him I want to go. For perspective or debriefing. For fellowship and discipline. I want to talk to Him. I want to listen to Him. I need His light for my dimness. His mercy for my judgments. His compassion for my apathy. I need Him in order to breathe.
I tremble in His presence. Yes. But not for the same reasons as the priests of the Law. I tremble to think my Holy God could welcome me into His inner life. That He came down to Earth to be with us because that's what His heart yearns for. Just like mine. Relationship with His own.
Ezekiel was standing at the East Gate in Jerusalem when the glory of the Lord approached. It sounded like the rushing of mighty waters and made Earth shine like the sun rising. Ezekiel fell on His face as the glory of God whooshed past him into the temple. The Spirit of God picked the prophet up and carried him into the inner court by then ablaze with the brilliance of the shekinah of God.
And then He spoke. The voice thundering from the temple, filling every space with its resonance. "Son of man, this is the place of my throne and the place of the soles of my feet, where I will dwell in the midst of the people of Israel forever." Oh, may I worship at the footstool of my God! Take on His holiness and reflect His great light. For it's a wonder that His hand embraces me, unclean, and makes me like His Son.
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