Sacred Building

Stepping across the threshold, even as we chatted amongst ourselves and searched for seats, there was just something expectant about that place, something that waited in the wings, the moment that we had marked on our calendars weeks ago in pen, that we had agreed to when we received the invitation, that we had placed as a reminder on our phones lest we forget.

That we would gather together, that we would come from our homes and our jobs, in faded jeans and professional attire, that we would come from children that needed feeding and homework left unfinished, that we would set aside the outside world and step into the sanctuary for one purpose..... to pray.

There is something beautiful, something special and soothing about candlelight. About sitting in the central glow of that meeting place even though the pews stretched far to the left and the right, and women of all ages and stages of life pulled themselves away from the desire to have a space solely theirs and instead huddled in the middle of that large room to align our hearts to one purpose ....to pray.

It's a wonder we don't desire to do it more often, to embrace the beauty of a gathering of women talking to the Almighty as a unified body, to grab hold of the rarity that is found in leaving all competition and comparison at the door and simply coming as daughters of the King, each beloved, each treasured and each one asking that Father hear our cries as we.....pray.

September 14th, just a typical late summer/ early fall Monday, not found to have any special notation of holiday celebration in my day planner, and yet marked with a passion and desire that spread across the states, across the continents and into countries far and near to come together, in Nehemiah like fashion.....to pray.

And it was beautiful.

The sacred building of the wall that has been torn down by the enemy. Sitting in the rubble, knowing full well that we have left our homes, our cities, our country exposed to attack. And so, while we sleep and while we go about our days, he slides across the dusty bricks and through the cracks and holes and goes about injuring our lives and our families. Injured and bleeding, overwhelmed by what we are facing we weep and mourn what has been lost, but it seems to try and rebuild may just be too much for the one, there is no fathomable way we could do it alone.

So, in that place of worship, we gathered together and we planted our knees on holy ground and lifted our hands and joined together to build once more with our words whispered and hearts fervently beating and heads bowed in prayer.

Indwelt

Arriving in the midst of colorful spring blossoms, tucked away in one of my daily devotionals, without any grand fanfare or warning has been my most recent bout of reprogramming my thinking.

Have you ever had those moments? 

The light switch flicks on and you see truth for what it is, and yet to accept that truth, to truly embrace it, to let it take root in your life means you have to grab the eraser and furiously try and clear the board of what you had once thought, chalking in this new piece of information even though you can still see the faintest shadow of your past ideas stained on the chalkboard surface. 

There really isn't anyone to blame, as I think it only natural that I felt that there is a big "G" God and He is the main one in command and so therefore, on most days, I seem to forget that there are three equal parts to the trinity - God is God, Jesus is God and the Holy Spirit is God. And, I don't dare begin to try and explain that one much further, because I can get confused in trying to read text on the subject, forcing my eyes to go back over the same lines again and again trying to make sense of it all. 

Yet, when I started reading Francis Chan's "Forgotten God," and he said something about step one being that you have to stop thinking about the Holy Spirit as an "it" and start thinking of Him as God, then my wheels started to spin. And while they may slow down or take a break, they are still caught in motion because I'm still trying to remind myself that the Holy Spirit is not this come and go presence, or a well meaning guidance counselor somewhat confused with my conscience, but He is indeed God. I'm so consumed with big "G" God that I have indeed forgotten, downsized, devalued this piece of the trinity. 

And running along this line of thinking that has spanned over days and weeks, and having scripture repetitiously hit me from different sources with the same verses, I am once again forced to rethink my thoughts on my body being a temple.

"Do you not know that you are a temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?" 1 Corinthians 3:16

The answer is, no, I don't think I've truly known the depths of that question. I always got caught up in this verse as some sort of weapon that people who felt the need to pick apart your life placed in their arsenal. 

Are you sure you want to eat that cake, don't you know your body is a temple?

You should stop smoking because you know, your body is a temple.

Those lines of ink forever pushed into the layers of skin on your body, what would God say about you tattooing His temple?

I must confess, I've always just breezed past the mentions of my body being a temple because I'd already gotten more than a few pointed comments regarding said scripture and I didn't feel I needed any more criticism. 

Then the light switch was thrown, and that corner of my mind that had heard the Word of God, the scriptures written down by mere men, realized I had missed the biggest picture of all. 

The Holy Spirit dwells in me.

God dwells in me.

I am the temple, the vessel, the sanctuary, the girl who heard the word of truth and was sealed with the promised Holy Spirit. (Ephesians 1:13)

And all of a sudden, with this rush of awareness, becomes this frantic dash to try and clean house. Under full blown wattage of exposure, I realize that the temple is dirty, but it's less about cigarettes and junk food, it's about greed and lust and anger and envy and hate and bitterness and lack of self-control and, oh my goodness, this temple is a wreck! The carnage of sin that I have paid little attention to is crowding up the corners and collecting dust on shelving. 

There is this ache that has formed just underneath the edge of my rib cage and with eyes wet with tears of mourning because this, this temple suddenly seems uninhabitable, with cracks in the wall gaping and this is no sanctuary for the Most High, this is a hovel. It became overwhelming, my less than state and I thought, how can it be that the Holy Spirit has not insisted that He be allowed to pack up and move out, how can God be so patient to stay with me and not abandon me as a lost cause? 

With soothing waves of calm, in the midst of my despair did God remind me of His Word, "For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace." John 1:16

Does grace ever stop being sweet? Or, as one may often hear, amazing?  Will there ever be a ceasing of moments when I will need another layer, another helping of grace, another reminder that grace is abundant and forgiveness is available and with clarity comes repentance and grace once more? I think not. And with freshly renewed thankfulness, I cling to the promise that it will always be there because without it I am lost.  

-C