PSALM 100 - Fired Up

For the Lord is good. His steadfast love endures forever, and His faithfulness to all generations.(Verse 5)

God established Himself in a movable sanctuary until Solomon built the temple his father, David, longed to create for God's permanent dwelling place among His people. Moses and the people of God knew when He descended upon the tabernacle in a cloud that the skakina of God fell on the Holy of Holies. But it had been many years since God lived among the people. The ark of the covenant had disappeared and been mishandled. In fact, the Jewish people had forgotten even how to carry the sacred box which held the commandments of God. At great price, they relearned their God's demands. So on the day Solomon and the Israelites dedicated the new temple to God, there was much holy ado.

The sacred vessels were placed ceremoniously in the inner and outer courts and the sacrifices so abundant they lost count. The last thing to be done was for the priests to place the ark of the covenant into the Holy Place. Upon the appearance of the priests who'd been consecrated to enter the sacred room, 120 trumpeting priests along with an orchestra dressed in fine white linen and a massive choir were called to one task: Sing in unison praise and thanksgiving to God.  Their song: "For He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever!" Then the house of the Lord was filled with a cloud so thick and heavy the priests fell to the ground as the glory of the Lord responded to the music of thanksgiving and praise.

Solomon built a bronze box upon which he then stood before all of Israel and before the Lord. It was placed before the altar where there was no doubt copious amounts of blood still flowing from the sacrifices of the countless animals. In the presence of the odor of fresh slaughter and with all of Israel breathless from the cloud of God's presence, Solomon knelt on the bronze box and lifted his arms high toward heaven. "O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you, in heaven or on earth, keeping covenant and showing steadfast love to Your servants who walk before You with all their heart...But will God indeed dwell with man on the earth? Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain You, how much less this house that I have built! Yet have regard to the prayer of Your servant and to his plea, O Lord my God!"

Solomon's plea?  That God never cease to look on His dwelling place to hear His people when they pray. For forgiveness, retribution, provision, success in battle and even the prayers of a foreigner who wishes to know the One True God. He concludes the prayer this way: "Hear from heaven your dwelling place their prayers and pleas, and maintain their cause and forgive Your people who have sinned against You. Now, O my God, let Your eyes be open and your ears attentive to the prayer of this place. And now arise, O Lord God, and go to Your resting place, You and the ark of Your might. Let Your priests, O Lord God, be robed in salvation, and let Your saints rejoice in Your goodness...."  Italics mine

Solomon's hands are still lifted and the last words from his mouth not left even to echo throughout the vast structure when fire crashes down from heaven, searing the altar and lapping up the blood from its sacrifices along with the slain animals themselves. The glory of the Lord came in such force that no one could enter the temple for its fierceness. The thousands and thousands of Israelites who'd joined the celebration bowed down on the hot pavement of the Jerusalem streets, awed by the rushing in of their God to His earthly dwelling place. And they worshipped loudly, giving thanks, saying: "For He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever."

The next time our God came, it was with less visible fanfare. A few shepherds on a hillside, a magnificent star in the sky, some astrologers and a teenaged mother in a manger with her betrothed. He entered the temple early on teaching his elders when he was only twelve years old. By then, the outer courts of the temple had become a place for merchants to cheat the devout in order to make money from the necessary temple sacrifices. And His Father, the Lord God, couldn't live there any more. Jesus, on a holy day--Passover--became the atoning sacrifice Whose blood soaked the altar for our sins. He didn't enter the temple with a rush of fire and a cloud of glory. The Lord God Himself, the One Who is good, Whose steadfast love endure forever, loved enough to bleed out and be consumed Himself for me...and you.

The new temple? Me. I wasn't born again in a sacred holocaust rushing in to burn up my sinfulness. I was rebirthed from within by the Lord Himself tabernacling in me. It's what changed me. And I felt it. Was and am still awed by it. O may I be a holy place. Consumed by the fire of my passion for such a Savior. May I, like Solomon, kneel and lift my arms high to my God and cry out with all I am: "You, my God, are good! Your steadfast love endures forever, and Your faithfulness to all generations." And may my God respond to my heart's cry by rushing once again into my barren soul!

PSALM 100 - Gotta Get The Heart Right First

Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise! Give thanks to Him. Bless His name!  (Verse 4)

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.  I Thessalonians 5:16-18

And we know that for all those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purposes.  Romans 8:28

I just read the morning paper and there's some awful stuff going on out there in the big wide world. Wars, murders, rapes, fires, bankruptcies, moral failures. Last night I heard from one of my dearest friends who'd lost yet another beloved relative in a string of deaths that defy the heart's ability to cope. Not her fault. No way she can control things spinning out of control. Life runs counter to our running through the gates into God's presence with thanksgiving and praise sometimes. Rather we want to stomp in wondering what in the world He's up to. Doesn't He see? Or we crawl in defeated by the harsh circumstances of this life. What's it going to take for us, instead, to enter His gates with thanksgiving and praise? How do we do that when we've been laid low?

It seems from these verses that my Father wants me to choose thanksgiving and praise. Not for all things, but in all things. It is assenting to the fact that He's in control. Verifying in my heart that He is right here with me in my circumstance, whether it's dire or dance-worthy. That I know when I come before God, I enter a holy place where the One Who rules all of everything is aware of me. First just that. My Father knows and sees me. Isn't surprised by my success or failure. Knows any heartache I have because He feels it with me, not just for me. Thank you, Father, that I am never, ever alone.

When I enter God's courts in prayer, I go to the very place where I will spend eternity with Him. His house. The center of it. What's going on there right now? Praise and thanksgiving. Continually. Forever. Without ceasing. We can't fully realize the power of the throne room without understanding the pulsing praise that resounds and echoes through heaven: " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who was and is and is to come! Worthy are You, O Lord, our God, to receive glory and honor and power; for You created all things, and by Your will they existed and were created." (Revelation 4) The energy of the universe and beyond finds its epicenter at the throne of God. All power opens up the door to me at any given moment so that I can gain access to His very heart. And He looks at me. Thank you, my Father, that you've made a way for me to be near to You.

When things on earth are nearly unbearable, my Father's courts are my hope. Being there makes being here seem thin, evanescent and paltry in comparison. From the beginning, the Godhead had a plan for Earth and the people on it. It's a big plan. Far beyond my comprehension as I watch it play out from my very limited standpoint. The Bible blueprints it so I have a vague and general idea of the end of things. But what weighs more heavily on me, at times, is God's plans for me and those closest to me. Those plans I'm interested in for many reasons, not the least of which is that I know He has a dream for me. Something I've been placed here on this planet at this time to be and to do. He's promised that He will complete that in me. "And I am sure of this, that He Who began a good work in you will bring it to completion in the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1) The highs and lows are all part of the journey that takes me ultimately and physically into His presence forever. I can be assured that my life isn't an arbitrary mix of events that muddle together at the end of my days into the collage that became my life. God's purposes are being worked out in me because He loves me and has a goal in mind--a race for me to run--the end of which is joy in His arms. Thank you, Father, that wherever my path takes me, leads me to Your greater purposes for me and for others. Thank you that You've walked it before my feet hit the dust of the trail, preparing my destiny for my joy and your great glory.

Maybe only then can we truly enter through His courts and into the Holy of Holies with the other things that press us in, make us short of breath and small in spirit. Thanksgiving and praise reminds us of Who He is before we take all of our wants and needs into His almighty presence.

PSALM 100 - Love Songs

Come into His presence with singing! Know that the Lord, He is God! It is He Who has made us, and we are His. We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.   (Verses 2-3)

But now thus says the Lord, He who created you, O Jacob, He Who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, and you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. When you walk through  fire, you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.  Isaiah 43

What makes you sing? Sunshine pouring through your window in the morning when you awaken? Good news? Looking at the ocean, mountains, deserts? Or seeing your child fast asleep in his or her bed at night? There is something that touches the place in all of us that creates heart music. The need to express the beauty and joy we feel with a tap of the foot and an often imperfect tune.

More often than not, it's falling in love. There is an entire industry built around kisses, smiles, holding hands and cheating hearts. All set to a melody we can keep in our heads forever. What is it about being loved that makes us so happy? Being seen. First of all. Someone picked me out of the entire world and sees the beauty in me. And being accepted just like I am (or until the lover discovers my imperfections and bails). Feeling a connection with another human being that validates our own existence is a phenomenon unparalleled by other experiences. Being heard. What I think matters to another person who looks into my eyes and marvels at my thoughts. Lovers can talk for hours and linger at the good-byes with more to say. Being near. Lovers can find each other in a crowd of thousands. Reach for each other from across a room. Just knowing the other is near makes the heart beat faster and joy rise. Ah, love.

And that is what brings us into His presence with singing, isn't it? Love. The joy of the One Who made us opening up His life to us because we belong to Him. God dreamed us up and loves us. Calls us by name. The name He has for me and you. Our Father bought us out of slavery, redeemed us from the evil one, just so we could live with Him forever. Precious to Him are His little lambs. God wants to see me, look into my face as I look into His and converse. I might not be worth much to others in this world, but when I come before my Father, I am special. Not because of anything I've done, but because of His great love for me. It should transform me--make me see myself as He does. Beloved. If that doesn't change me, I don't yet get it. The One Who formed the universe, Who understands it all and oversees its every movement, loves me, has a pet name for me, and wants to spend His time on my life. He's ready to listen. To hear my stuff. It's important to God because it's important to me. He knows when the flood waters are rising, He sees when the fire is hot and is aware of all my trials. Why? Because He is there with me in them. I'm His and don't get very far away from His reach. That's why He tells me not to fear. Sing instead. Lift up my curly head and bellow out a song of salvation. A love song to Jesus. For He is my Beloved and I am His.

PSALM 100 - Yoked to Forgetfulness

Serve the Lord with gladness.  (Verse 2a)

By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey His commandments. For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. And His commandments are not burdensome.  I John 5

She was guilty. And she knew it. Her life over as she sat silently in her cell at the Orange County jail. Third strike. Her life simply got out of control. Her thinking blurred and her heart hard. So there she was, looking at a lifetime in prison. No parole. No more grace for her. The orange prison jumpsuit told her story. Clothed in her shame with no way out.

One morning early, right after the trial and the sentencing, Gloria's cell was unlocked. Into her space came a guard who told her the prison warden was waiting for her in his office. Her stomach churned in gripping expectation of some further wrong they'd discovered. She'd done way more than the jury found her guilty of. Inside the office of the warden sat a man whose wealth was famous all over the globe. He was wearing an expensive suit, his hair was neatly combed and he smiled broadly as she shuffled into the room.

"Gloria, please sit down," said the warden. "I have some news that might interest you."

Gloria did as she was told as her heart raced and her forehead beaded with sweat.

"I'm sure you've heard of this man sitting next to you. He owns more property in this world than anyone else."

Gloria nodded. Confused by the connection between herself and him.

"His oldest son has agreed to do your time in prison." The warden glanced over at the multi-billionaire and took a deep breath. "He wants to take you home with him, to be his daughter. It's not something I understand, but if you're willing, you are free to go, remanded into his care."

There was no way of comprehending the magnitude of what she'd just heard. "You mean, I don't have to serve my time?"

"No. His son is serving it instead."

"But why?" Gloria knew there must be an angle. Something she was missing.

"Because I...we...chose to set you free." He spoke. The man in the soft leather chair beside her.
"You are my daughter now if you will choose to be so."

The mansion in which the entrepreneur lived was beyond description. Gloria's new room was enormous--bigger than her entire apartment. There was food of any description available to her whenever she was hungry. And her new father spent time with her daily, showing her his business, talking of his hopes, listening to her heart. She'd never been so beautiful, either. He dressed her in the finest clothes and untangled the mess her curly hair had become over the months in jail. Gloria was clean, loved and healthy. She forgot quickly that her new father's son sat in her jail cell. Forgot it so completely that when her father asked her to do small things for him--make her bed, bring him coffee or check the mail--she found herself being irritated at the suggestion that she needed to obey his every whim. It came to a head one day when her new father asked her to go to a faraway country to represent him there to the natives of the land.

"How can you ask me to give up my life to go to some god-forsaken land for you?" She nearly screamed it. "You're always asking me to do things I don't want to do."

There was pain in the father's eyes. Gloria had forgotten. Forgotten where she was when he found her, made her his. She didn't remember the hopelessness of her existence without him. Too accustomed to the access she had. Too flippant about the fact that his son was serving her sentence. Chose to because the father loved Gloria so much. And so did the son.

How could she not do anything the father asked of her? How could she be so blind to his merciful love? Why would she not spend every hour of every day serving Him with gladness?

Indeed.

PSALM 100 - On the Corner at Church Yesterday

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!  (Verse 1)

I left the worship service at our church yesterday as the last strains of music reverberated in the rafters of the one-hundred-year-old building where we congregate each Sunday morning. Vanessa led worship, which always makes my spirit soar. The baby who used to use a hair brush as a microphone and sing all over our house is now leading us into the presence of Jesus. So I was doubly thankful in my joyful worship of my heavenly Father and precious Savior, Jesus. In fact, I felt really in love with my God as I stepped out into the foggy beach air to help man the coffee and donut station we've recently set up in front of the church for passers-by to grab something on the go or for people to stop by and talk with us for a few minutes.

There was the lady on her way to work at the CVS across the street from the beach. She grabbed breakfast on the way and talked with my friend, Mary, and me about her day. There was the man who struggles with alcohol. He'd had a bad week. Wound up inside for the sermon. Then there was Ethan. Twenty and on the streets. He saw us and the food, stopped his skateboard, picked it up and walked over to the pop-up tent for some breakfast.

"Sure," I said, "have some fruit and a donut."

"I'm really hungry," Ethan replied as he began eating breakfast while I poured him some coffee from the plastic urn.

"Are you on the streets?" I asked.

"Yeah. I have been for about two months now. My mom and dad kicked me out."

"Drugs, then?" I asked.

"Yes, but I don't use any more," he replied as he worked on his second donut.

"It's hard to rebuild trust, huh?" I mused more than asked.

"Yeah. It is. They always think all I want is money."

Our conversation was long. I know where he sleeps at night. I know he has a local girlfriend. I know he didn't really give up drugs. Maybe not the heroin of before, but he still uses. And I know he's heard the gospel and read enough of the Bible that he could finish some of the verses we shared together. And...he needed socks. But what really struck me in our conversation was this one statement of Ethan's.  "I don't want to give up drugs. I like doing drugs. I'd have to give that up to become a Christian."

Deeply entrenched in some of us is that we have to come to Jesus cleaned up. I'm not saying Ethan doesn't have to be willing to relinquish his drugs to know Christ, but I am saying that we may not even have the ability to be willing without Him in the first place. I know the Father loves Ethan. How? Because He knew I'd be standing there and Ethan would be skating by. It was a set-up. For my joy and Ethan's sake. The young man had never heard that he could come to Christ just the way he is. That Jesus might embrace his brokenness like a mother loves and cares for her injured child.

Ethan's fingernails were chewed down to the nub and blackened with the dirt of his homelessness when I held his hands to pray with him. I asked for protection because he's afraid sometimes on the streets. I asked for clarity and peace. I asked Christ to show Himself powerful in this young man. Then I challenged Ethan to receive Christ into His life.

"Oh, I've done that. Several times." Ethan, honestly.

"I mean today, Ethan, August 25, 2013, give yourself away to Him and see if He isn't faithful to love you just the way you are."

"Okay. I will." Then he hugged me.

We found him some clean socks and he was on his way. But my heart went with him and I thought of him several times the rest of the day. I have a thousand reasons to make a joyful noise to the Lord! To lift my hands and move my feet and sing at the top of my lungs to the One Who has made me new, rescued me from myself and others countless times and filled my desperate longings with His indwelling Spirit. My God has taken from me those things that would destroy me and replaced them with abundant life! I wasn't stripped of anything worth keeping in order to know Christ. His life has given mine purpose and power beyond what I could adequately explain to Ethan. Ethan, who could now choose to follow a path, hand in hand with Jesus, that leads to joy instead of endlessly walking streets in search of a high that will destroy him if he continues to pursue it. And he is a picture of all of us straining to keep that which we will lose out of the fear that Jesus will take it from us and leave us empty. May Jesus pour joy into the void of my young friend's hollow existence so that he will one day, along with me, lift his hands to the One Who rescued him from a horrible pit, set his foot upon a rock and put a new song into his mouth.

PSALM 99 - The Avenger Now Playing

Oh, Lord our God, You answered them. You were a forgiving God to them, but an avenger of their wrongdoings. Exalt the Lord our God and worship Him at His holy mountain, for the Lord our God is holy!  (Verses 8-9)

I received a disturbing email yesterday. It crushed my heart. Made my stomach turn suddenly sick. A friend who struggles with a failed marriage and the repercussions of devastating abandonment is in jail. I know pain put her there. Grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into hell--the same one from which she was rescued a decade and a half ago. Jesus found her then. Still loves her now. Jail just might be the safest place on earth for my precious friend right now. Just because God is an avenger of our wrongdoings doesn't mean He has given up on us. In fact, I think it could mean quite the opposite. Because a holy God wants holy children. And my friend might just find her sanctification in her incarceration. No place to run but to Him nowadays. She is captive to His calling.

I think about the very people this psalm recalls. Moses and Aaron. At Meribah, the children of Israel balked again at their journey with a planned mutiny against their leaders. This time, however, when God's glory descended upon the tent of meeting and He spoke with Moses, His instruction was for Moses to speak to the rock, not strike it as before. In the heat of the moment, however, and in his great irritation with the complaining and grumbling masses he was called to deliver through the wilderness and into the promised land, Moses castigated them: "Hey, you rebellious whiners, shall we bring you water from this rock?" Then Moses used his staff to strike the rock twice, in anger and disobedience. God, in His mercy, gave them abundant water. But He wasn't done with Moses and Aaron. "Really?" God charged them. "You would strike Me, Your Rock, when I told you to speak the water into existence? And you would take credit for the water that flowed forth as though your anger and my power co-exist?"

Moses calmed down. Looked at his own sin. Presumption. Pride. "You won't walk these people into the promised land, now, son," pronounced His God. "Only I, the holy God, can bring them provision. You didn't believe Me when I told you to speak to the rock. You have misrepresented Me to this entire nation. And this is how I will avenge your sin."

Moses got to see the Holy Land from a distance, but he didn't enter it. He was, however, taken up to his God to live there eternally. Will have, it seems, some place in the end of all things, too, as Jesus saw him on the Mount of Transfiguration. But on this earth, it mattered that He presumed upon a holy God. And God avenged that wrong. Made him pay a price for what he did.

What could be God's motive in such a thing? Why would He allow my friend to now sit in jail, probably onto prison, when He loves her? Sometimes we need rescue from ourselves. Perhaps her out of control behavior would have ultimately killed her or someone else. But I remember thinking about Jim Baker as he sat in prison for fraud. Realizing that God cared more about the evangelist's holiness than about his ministry. That the wrong perception of God Baker gave the people to whom he ministered made God sick in the same way the misrepresentation of Moses did. Humbled, Baker still ministers. God still loves him. Avenged his wrongs. Let him suffer the consequences of his choices. But never left him. Baker is His kid. So is my friend. So am I. That doesn't change. No matter what the rap sheet and the mug shot say.

Oh, I know some would argue that if these people were Christians in the first place they wouldn't do such heinous things. Be careful, though. David, Peter, Noah, Moses, Samson, Saul, Paul, Abraham and on and on they go. The imperfects of the Bible stories. Men and women of great destiny and purpose who screwed up. Big time. The earthly consequences were exacted, but they didn't lose their holy God. There was never a day when He wasn't working out their salvation. And they--with fear and trembling before God's need for justice.

Those of us who know Jesus can't just live any old way and get away with it. Not because He can't wait to pummel us, but because we are now members of the family of God. We carry His name into everything we do, all the time. How much would He love us if we were left to be hellions in the supermarket, disobeying His every command, continuing in our pride and rebellion? Very little, I'm afraid. Jesus must grow us up. Adult babies are not a joy to their parents or to the world. And God is more interested in our becoming like Him than He is about what people think of us. Jesus died for our screw ups. The ultimate payment--avenging--of our sins was paid in full by Him at Golgotha. So we don't bear the eternal weight of what we do here on Earth, but we often struggle with the consequences of our actions because God wants us purified, restored and healthy, happy kids of the kingdom. That is ultimately why my friend sits in jail. Because her Abba loves her too much to let her continue in her folly.

Enemy, don't laugh at me. I have fallen, but I will get up again. I sit in the shadow of trouble now, but the Lord will be a light for me. I sinned against the Lord, so He was angry with me, but He will defend my case in court. He will bring about what is right for me. Then He will bring me out into the light, and I will see Him set things right.  Then my enemies will see this, and they will be ashamed, those who said to me, "Where is the Lord, your God?" 
Micah 7: 8-10

PSALM 99 - I Remember When...

Moses and Aaron were among His priests. Samuel also was among those who called upon His name. They called to the Lord and He answered them. They kept His testimonies and the statute that He gave them.  (Verses 6-7)

We sat randomly spread out on couches for the Thursday night Bible study. Among the group was a new woman I'd never met. She was tatted up and had bleached blond hair. As Beth Moore began her message on the video screen, the woman was attentive but seemed agitated. Ready for something more in the moment to happen. It was when we began to pray that the reason for her coming that evening was made clear. A specific request she wanted us to take to God. She wanted a baby. Had tried for years to conceive with only devastating silence from God. So we circled her in prayer. Laid our hands upon her womb and asked God for one more time to grant her request for a child. He answered. Within the next few weeks, the woman was pregnant. She called to God and He answered.

She was abandoned as a young bride by the man she loved and married. Uncomfortable with wedded intimacy, he looked around for comfort in another direction. The bride was so young. In her early twenties. But she found a job, moved out and prayed. Believed God would restore her marriage through several years of waiting by herself. Didn't waiver in the belief God would bring her man back to her. We prayed with her, but not with the confidence with which she persevered. One day he'd had enough of life without her. Wanted to work it out. That was almost forty years ago. She called to God and He answered her.

Sandy wanted someone to tell her about God. A sovereign hunger pushed her to talk to a priest, a pastor, even neighbors. But no one, it seems, was able to tell her how to find God. She prayed to her unknown God, beseeching Him in her aching need, to send someone to tell her how she could find Him. I am sitting in my yard pulling weeds when I remember an ad I saw in the morning paper. It was for a beauty pageant. The idea of it had been in my mind in previous days when I looked at it, but it was a ludicrous thought. Me in a beauty pageant for grown women? But I couldn't shake the idea that God was trying to tell me something. When I asked Bill, he thought I should pursue it. (He thinks I'm beautiful.) It involved raising support, going to businesses for ad help and finding a dress shop that would donate a ball gown for a night--and it involved three-inch heels. I quickly lost the desire to obey the voice in my head, but not before I met Sandy. She came to my house to take pictures of me. Her father and step-mother were the pageant owners and coordinators. We spent some time talking in my living room. So, when I told her step-mom I didn't think I could do the pageant thing, she offered to let me into the competition free because Sandy loved me so. Okay. I went. Didn't win. And wondered what the heck? Then Sandy called me. Wanted to take me to lunch.

"Kay, I've got a question for you?" Sandy was picking at her salad. Antsy.

"Sure!" I responded. But I never pick at food, so my mouth was probably full!

"Can you tell me how to find God?" Her eyes filled with tears as she asked the question. "I feel like you're my last chance. Nobody can tell me where to find Him, and I want to so badly."

It was then I told her about Christ. I told her how her deep desire to know Him came from His deep desire to know her. That Jesus took me all the way to a beauty pageant in San Diego so I could tell her of His deep love for her. She bowed her head and prayed for Him to come into her heart. Right there in the steak house with tears spilling into her lettuce and tomatoes. Relief. Joy. At last the consummation of need with Savior. Bill introduced her husband to Jesus a week later. They remarried and had another child. Joined a local church. And now reach out to others. She cried out to God and He heard her prayer.

It helps to remember answered prayer. Those who've desperately sought Him. Seen Him move heaven and earth to meet their deepest needs. Maybe they aren't Moses and Aaron. Haven't seen the great miracles manifested from a burning bush or budding rod. Haven't anointed kings like Samuel or prophesied the will of God over nations. But they called out in their desperation and were answered nonetheless. Because we don't have to be mega-Christians for God to see us. He loves me and you as much as He did Moses, Aaron and Samuel. God desires to show us His great power. Not because we are going to change the world, but because He wants to change our world one prayer at a time.

PSALM 99 - The Torn Curtain

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.

 

PSALM 98 - Playing In God's Band

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. Break forth into joyous song and sing praises! Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody! With trumpets and the sound of the horn, make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord!  (Verses 4-6)

And when you go to war in your land against the adversary who oppresses you, then you shall sound an alarm with the trumpets, that you may be remembered before the Lord your God, and you shall be saved from your enemies. On the day of your gladness also, and at your appointed feasts and the beginnings of your months, you shall blow the trumpets over your burnt offerings and over the sacrifices of your peace offerings. They shall be a reminder of you before God: I am the Lord your God.  Numbers 10

God told Moses to make two trumpets of hammered silver to be used for summoning the massive numbers of people camping in the wilderness to assemble at the tent of meeting or to let them know it was time to break camp and move forward. The horns were signals, also, of danger. But two long blasts of the trumpets meant God had something to say to His people and they were to gather before His presence in the traveling tabernacle. On all these occasions, it seems the blaring of the silver trumpets reminded God of the fact that He is, indeed, the Lord, their God. It's God's call to take note of the children He's adopted and either rescue them or meet with them as they rejoice over His sovereignty in their lives.

And the sound of the horn, or shofar, should make our feet dance and our hearts sing! Every year, at Rosh Hashanah, the shofars are blown to welcome in the Jewish New Year, a high holy day. The Feast of the Trumpets occurred on the first day of the Hebrew month, Tishri, at the new moon, when only the tiniest crescent could be seen. The sighting of the new moon required that there be watchers to witness its first appearing since even the slightest cloud cover could obscure the moon from view. Israel had to be vigilant in order to see the new moon appear.

So what's this joyful noise all about? We are a part of it every Sunday in our worship services with drums, pianos, keyboards and guitars. Some congregations sing hymns; others dance about to the melodies and lyrics of more modern worship. But the heart of it all should be joy. We should overflow with the acknowledgement our God is great, and greatly to be praised. He lives there in our praises (Psalm 22)--comes down to be in the midst of them to enjoy our exultation and dance with us. The drumming of tympani and the strumming of the guitars in acknowledgment of His glory summons us to Him and Him to us. Like the blasts from the silver trumpets call us to the holy of holies to prepare us for a word from Him, our melodies sung to our God bring us into His presence, make us ready to hear His heart.

Deeper still for me this morning, though, is what the blasts from the trumpets and horns were about. They were used to call to a new place, to war or to worship. When the sound reached His ears, it made God remember that, oh yes, He is the Lord our God. And He will save us, lead us or revel with us. The calling of the trumpet is a reminder that He delivered them out of slavery to be their King and God--set them apart and made them holy. Reminded God and them of the covenant He established with His children. In unison the trumpets beckoned God's nation to His presence. The sound of our worship should rise like the incense it is even in the midst of our battles--or before we ever begin to fight. Our praises in advance remind us that we don't battle alone. Call God to our rescue. And the shofar announced the new year as it heralded the new moon of Tishri. A new beginning. The end of the old era. The slate wiped clean. God in our midst. Trumpets and horns, banjos and guitars, melodies sung, maybe imperfectly, make a sound dear to the heart of our Father, Who waits in heaven for the more perfect choir that will assemble one day to forever make a joyful noise that will resound and echo throughout eternity.

For the Lord Himself with descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage each other with these words. I Thessalonians 4