Tag: Hope

big, big house

In my Father’s house are many rooms…I am going away to make ready a place for you.

John 14:2

By the time they arrived The Dwelling would be set up.

Numbers 10:21

Its a big big house
With lots and lots of room

“Big House,” Audio Adrenaline

No doubt we are all familiar with the revelation of Jesus in John’s gospel, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms…” Your Bible might read ‘mansions’ or ‘dwelling places.’ Those exciting words conjure up all sorts of images and get us giddy for glory. Big ole mansions for everybody. Streets of gold. Gates of pearl. Pity the person who settles for “a cabin in the corner of glory land.”

I recall in my youth how I stumbled over the translation “rooms” and got sad because I didn’t want another version of my bedroom in heaven. I wanted a big ole house with a big ole yard all to myself!

At 62-years old I think I’m starting to mature. Yours truly was reading from the book of Numbers recently and caught a really cool shadow of our future ingathering to Glory. I camped awhile in chapter ten as the glory-cloud hovered over the text.

And the Kohathites set out, carrying the articles for the sanctuary; the tabernacle was to be set up before they arrived.

Numbers 10:21

Let the reader understand. The Kohathites were responsible for the most holy objects in the tabernacle: ark, altar, veil, table, lampstand, etc. Whenever the Israelites camped, before any tents were pitched, the tabernacle was the first thing set up. In went the Koathites, carrying the Sacred Objects.

When Israel decamped, it all happened in reverse, with the tabernacle dissembled and the Sacred Objects carried out first. First in, first out. God was always out in front. Always. It’s a beautiful picture: before any of the tribes arrived, God was in place, waiting for them.

In those days the tabernacle was always moving, always mobile, mile after mile, battle after battle, set up, break down, backward, forward, another day, another long night of the soul, another leg of the journey… starting to sound familiar, fellow temples?

But one beautiful day a permanent house — with rooms (1 Kings 6:2-8; 1 Chron. 9:33; Ezek. 40:5-36) — was built. It suddenly dawned: when Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you,” and in his house are “many rooms” this is the picture of that.

We get caught up in the idea of heavenly “dwelling places” and romanticize about our having “mansions” in gated communities but that is not the picture Jesus was painting. He’s showing us his house is a Temple in which he is its Center. And there we will ABIDE with him, and he will ABIDE with us. Forever.

Soon and very soon the trumpet will sound and every nation, tongue, tribe, and ethnicity, Jew and Gentile, saved in Christ will, in their turn – the dead in Christ first – leave the wilderness behind, enter the wide open gates, and find our home ready.

Come, ye Judah!
Come, ye Issachar!
Come, ye Levites!
Come, Manasseh!
Come, Zebulun!
Reuben and Simeon and Ephraim, Come!
Come along, Benjamin and Asher and Gad!
You too, Dan!
And Naphtali!
Come, Egypt!
And you, Rahab and Babylon, Come!
Philistia and Tyre, yes you!
Come with us, Hobab!

Time out. Who? Hobab? Read on in Numbers 10 and we’re introduced to Moses’s brother-in-law. When Israel was breaking camp after a year-long stay at Sinai, Hobab was going to opt out. Moses wasn’t having it.

“Come with us, brother!” Moses pleaded.

“Nah, I think I’ll just meander back to my people,” Hobab replied.

“Nonsense,” protested Moses. “We need you! We’re your people! There’s room!”

One of my favorite kingdom parables is the story of the Great Banquet. Invitations were sent out to all the Host’s family and friends. From the jump everyone’s intention was to go; it would be the social event of the year! But as the date for the banquet drew near, every last one bailed. Excuses, excuses.

Long story short, the Master of the House was not happy. He instructed the servants to go up and down the alleyways, into the red light district, through Shantytown and all over creation, and “compel them to come.” He stipulated that he wanted his Big House filled.

Come with us, Hobab. We’re going to see the King!

“I want my house teeming with children,” the Lord of the Feast says.

It’s a big house, with lots and lots of room. Rooms galore. Ample space.

Roomy…with a view of Jesus.

Selah, my friend.

though there’s pain in the offering

Have you ever seen someone in pain who’s not handling it well? I know you have and I have too. It’s not pretty is it? They can become bitter. Sometimes they get angry and strike. For many, pain becomes their identity.

Last time I posted I shared from the life of Joseph. I’m tempted to do the same with this post because so much of his story fits inside this theme. In his stead I’ll share a brief glimpse into his father, Jacob.

There was a day in his life when a blood-soaked garment was brought to him by his sons. “He’s gone, Dad. Joseph’s dead, mauled by a lion.” Jacob was inconsolable.

Jacob knew pain. Think back to his wedding night. Recall the entire saga of Esau? Does his divinely dislocated hip ring any bells? Consider the twenty hard years of labor in Paddan-aram (interestingly, the verb associated with the place suggests this was where Jacob was ‘ransomed’; a necessary length of time for Old Jacob to meet New Jacob).

Because of these things, perhaps, Jacob had a fixation with death and trouble. He carried his pain with him into every season and well inside his old age. There’s another grievous pain he bore but I’ll get to that if time permits.

Any of those things would cause many a man or woman to go running for the hills. God won’t give you more than you can bear?

Please.

Say that to Jacob with a straight face.

The worst of times are not the last of times.

— John Piper

lament

Lament is one of those words that sounds too religious for us regular folk. But we cannot move forward without it. This is why so many get stuck in the dry docks of dismay.

Jacob lost 22 years of his life as the consequence of his sons’ great sins against Joseph, Tamar, and the men of Shechem. He is often seen sitting with his grief and unhealthy preoccupation with death.*

*Gen 37:35; 42:36; 42:38: 44:22, 27-29; 30-31; 45:28; 46:31

One of my regrets about life after my accident is that I didn’t take necessary time to grieve all that was taken from me. In the ensuing years I was often asked “Do you get bitter?” I replied, “No, never once.” And that was the truth.

Did I lament my loss? I did…eventually. TBH, I still lament. Something is wrong with this picture. My disability is not part of the new creation. Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb because it didn’t…belong. It stinks. It hurts. How long, O God?

I love how lament is described by an Anglican priest:

Lament is what happens when the promises of God collide with the reality of our lives, and we express that collision and call on God to harmonise the two.

— Revd Dr. Alastair McKay, St. Martin-in-the-field

The thing about lament, biblically understood, is that it always — always — leads to praise. To lament is to actively pursue God in the midst of your sorrow. It may be a long time coming but you eventually get there. Jacob spent 22 years locked inside his bereavement. Would he recover?

I’m a big fan of the minor key and the book of Job. My friends know how much I love a gloomy, overcast day. Barry Manilow’s saddest ballads were my favorite songs in high school and college. Don’t hate me, I’m still fragile about that.

I’ve been through some stuff in my life, but I don’t ever recall a time when I’ve just wanted to pack it all in and jump ship. I scrolled through my twitter feed the other day and came across this share from a pastor I found quite enlightening:

That’s good. And painfully true.

Jacob is a case study in not dealing well with your hurt. You can’t tell me that his solemnity and despair didn’t rub off on his children. I imagine Judah or Simeon wondered aloud from time to time if they’d ever be more than a painful burr in their dad’s soul. Perhaps Reuben felt the scorn of being Leah’s son and that was all he could ever bring to the table.

But then there was a famine in the land. (Pay close attention to Gen 43:14)

It changed everything.

lessons learned

There came a day when Jacob got some news: his boy was alive! I’ve imagined how awesome it would be if I woke up tomorrow morning to see Graham at the foot of our bed! To realize it had all been a very bad dream. When I read of Jacob’s exhilaration, I feel that deep in my core.

Jacob had enjoyed Joseph for seventeen years in Hebron (Gen 37:2), and now he would get to enjoy Joseph for seventeen years in Egypt (Gen 47:28).

At 130 years of age Jacob made peace with his pain. In a long blessing over Joseph he invoked the name El Shaddai at the start and finished with Elohim at the close. Happy is the life that begins and ends with God!

Long before David called God his Faithful Shepherd, Jacob beat him to it. Jacob was the first person in Scripture to say that God “has been my shepherd all my life.” That sounds like a man at peace.

“I am about to die, BUT GOD…”

“But God.”

May this be your confession by his mercy and grace.

Allow me this one final splurge. Before you click away, I’d like to share the song whose lyric inspired the title of this post. Sandy chose this song as part of worship for Graham’s funeral. Yes, I said that. Funeral worship. We’ll see him again. Maybe not here, but when our lament has finished its course.

Amen.

as in the days of noah

Resting Ships, Paul Klee
Resting Ships by Paul Klee

But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.

Genesis 6:8

There was once a man named Noah. When he was born, his dad looked at him and said, “Finally, some hope. My son, a comfort to my soul.” The lad was born into a world ripe for judgment and Lamech thought his boy might be its savior. Evidently Noah’s pop was given some sense of his son’s divine purpose, but, unfortunately, his world was beyond saving.

I’ve listened to some parents of young children — and grandparents — who are uneasy about the world in which their children and grands will grow up. I totally get it.

A writer-father of a newborn shared his own angst and worry over the world his child would face:

[A]mong the excitement and wonder I feel at his progression are other emotions: worry, guilt, fear. And, overwhelmingly, grief. Because I know that the closer this child comes to thinking and understanding and communicating complex ideas, the faster he approaches the Moment when he will discover something that I wish with all my heart he never had to know: that his mother and I brought him into existence on a world that is dying.”

Time magazine offered an article a few months ago, titled, “Raising Kids When The World Is Ending.”

Here’s a headline for you:

💠💠💠💠

“But understand this, that in the last days difficult times will come.”

2 Timothy 3:1

💠💠💠💠

“Difficult” is a tad benign. The word Paul uses is more like “fierce.” Two verses down he says the last days are “savage.” Read the whole list. It mirrors almost exactly the condition of the world in Genesis 6. Uh oh. Seems we’ve seen this movie before.

Just today I read that nearly every House Democrat in the U.S. voted against a bill requiring medical attention for any baby born alive after a botched abortion. You can’t get much more evil than that.

Is there any comfort for us? Who can rest in these dark days?

Early one morning I woke up thinking about Genesis 6:8. “Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.” Taken in context, it’s a beautiful word of comfort for any who are barely treading water.

Has your world become oppressive? Exhausting? Unbearable? That was Lamech’s world. Even as the surrounding culture was submerged in evil, he traced a sliver of hope in the tiny feet and wiggling fingers of a baby. Raging against the dying of the light he defiantly branded his son Noah.

Noah sounds in the native tongue like “comfort” and derives from a word meaning “rest.” Later when we read about his now-famous ark “resting” on Mount Ararat as the floodwaters receded, it literally says the boat “Noahed” there.

It’s in Genesis 6:8 where “grace” shows up for the first time. God’s eyes swept the whole of humanity and, everywhere he looked, saw violence, ruin, and debauchery. Then his eyes rested on his man of rest and hope sprang anew.

Putting aside the hot mess of modern global culture, let’s turn our sights toward our private worlds. What words would you use to describe your life in these days? Turbulent? Unpredictable? Challenging? Scary?

Perhaps enduring fits you better. Or overcoming. I’ve been telling all my friends of late how sanctifying this season of my life has been.

In one midrash (rabbinical teaching), Noah’s wife is Naamah, the root of which primarily means to be pleasant, but also has the connotation of melody and of singing. It may not be sacred teaching, but it is cool to think about.

How wonderful to imagine Noah enjoying the company of his sweet bride, a pleasant soul, singing and humming her melodies in their home. Perhaps Noah stressed over the calling put on him (build a boat in the desert!) and needed his wife’s songs to minister rest to his troubled heart.

I guess you know where I’m going with this. Sandy has been the melody to my lyrics, especially of late. I’m grateful to have her as my helpmate; she exhibits dignified grace daily. I am a better man with her in my corner.

If Genesis 6:8 teaches anything, it tells us there is a supernatural rest and empowering grace available to those who by faith trace their spiritual lineage through Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and all the way through to Christ.

As it was in the days of Noah, so shall it be ever until the end: God has a rest for his people. Lamech pinned his hopes on God’s rest. Noah carried God’s rest in his heart. I pray the same for us. I pray for your children that their faith would be embedded in Christ and they would know his rest in their futures. May we be carried by his rest and rise above the black waters of death through divine grace.

I pray for my friends, Lord, as well as Sandy and me, for your carrying rest on this day and in all the days ahead. May we rise above the chaos and advance towards your new creation by your empowering grace, O Christ. In Jesus’s name, amen.

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