"In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, and your old men will dream dreams" (Acts 2:17).
This morning I awoke with a vision.
In no ordinary way thoughts came to me about the temple. The Bible says in Hebrews 9, "Behind the second curtain was a room called the Most Holy Place, which had the golden altar of incense and the gold-covered ark of the covenant. This ark contained the gold jar of manna, Aaron's staff that had budded, and the stone tablets of the covenant. Above the ark were the cherubim of the Glory, overshadowing the atonement cover. But we cannot discuss these things in detail now."
Once a year the High Priest would enter the the Most Holy Place and offer a sacrifice for the sins of the people. The sacrifice was required, but remained insufficient for permanently cleansing the people who offered the sacrifice.
I was not given a glimpse into the Most Holy Place this morning, neither was I given special insight into the reason God fashioned the temporary requirement of animal sacrifice. What was given to me was a powerful sense of waiting outside for the High Priest to return form making the sacrifice.
For all the difficult things to understand in the Old Testament covenant and culture one thing was made simple, the people knew where to find God. He was in the tabernacle. It is not like God was waiting in the tabernacle like a genie in a lamp. In 2 Chronicles 7:15-16 the Lord appears to Solomon and promises, "No my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place. I have chosen and consecrated this place so that my Name may be there forever. My eyes and my heart will always be there."
Returning to the temple meant returning to God. And once a year those who faithfully sough His presence would gather to see if their sacrifice was accepted.
Recently God has been filling my heart with the desire to return to him, like those people who would return to the temple. I want to wait. For some time now I have been exploring my options, living how I please, and hurting the Spirit that God has put in me. Will God accept the sacrifice I bring? I can quickly spout off accurate theology that God permanently and perfectly accepts the sacrifice of Jesus. The death the perfect Son of God died, he died for me. But that truth is not offered for us to forgetfully go about our lives. That is not faith. Faith hungers and thirst. "O god, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you" (Psalm 63:2-5).
Will you wait with me?
2 comments:
Hi Daniel,
As a mom who has sons your age I want to encourage you as you wait! This is a day-by-day journey. His mercies are new every morning and Satan would love for us to beat up on ourselves for "failing God". We all hurt God's Spirit daily. Know that you are loved by a Father in Heaven who delights in your every attempt to follow Him. He just wants you to keep on getting up and continuing to desire to follow Him. God bless you!
My son, I was struck yesterday with how clearly God made his presence known in the midst of the camp of his people as his cloud encompassed the tabernacle by day and his pillar of fire encompassed it by night. Wow. To see that awesomeness day in and day out must have been stunning. As I though further, naturally I thought that I would like to experience such a visual evidence of God's presence. Then God gently reminded me that I have it even better. His very Spirit indwells within me! Wow! It doesn't get any better or any more personal. Oh that we can stand in awe of that presence within. Oh that we can sense His time to move just as the people of Israel did.
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