Hear and meditate on the word of the Lord:
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.
When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.
All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
Luke 19:1-10 – NRSV
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Unsettled in the house ...
Now when the king was settled in his house, and the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies around him, the king said to the prophet Nathan, "See now, I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent."
Nathan said to the king, "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you."
But that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan: “Go and tell my servant David: Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved about among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’”
2 Samuel 7:1-7
The writers of Samuel were both skilled and inspired. They tell their story concisely and powerfully. At times they even tell it playfully. Here they play with the word, “house.” Through this chapter, they use the word house three different ways.
First, “the king was settled in his house.” It may be that this only means the palace, but does it? Isn’t David settling down into his role as the patriarch of his family? After settling his issues with Michal, doesn’t the domestic life of David reach a new and peaceful plateau? No more hiding from Saul. No more intrigue among the Philistines. Not so many running battles with powerful enemies. No more conflict with God. There is this moment in time where there is peace in the house of David.
Now David has time to think instead of react. As he looks out from the roof of his majestic “house of cedar” (second use of house), what does he see? He sees the tabernacle, the dwelling place of the ark, the symbol of the presence of Yahweh. Can you imagine what the tabernacle looks like by now? I’m sure that the Levites maintained it as best they could, but still, that tent has seen a lot of sand, and wind, and sun.
What David sees is unsettling; he can’t live with the inconsistency. I don’t think that we could either. Imagine looking out your window on a rainy night and seeing Jesus sleeping in your front yard in a WWII surplus pup tent, without even a stone for a pillow. It’s easy to understand the move toward action, isn’t it?
So David tells Nathan. Nathan is a courageous prophet, but he doesn’t even see the need to bother God. He phones this one in. "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you."
David’s project concerns God. God is not content to be silent. God doesn’t recall Nathan as a prophet; he redirects Nathan to undo his acceptance speech. “Have I ever asked you, David, or anyone else, to build a house for me?” (The idea of a house for God, a temple, is the third use of house.) God asks David to rethink. God’s answer is obviously, “No.”
So why would God say no to such a noble and honorable request? There are a lot of good possibilities.
Perhaps, as Solomon later says, David was still busy taking care of the enemies of his people (1 Kings 5:3-4). This is possible, but doesn’t appear to completely explain God’s answer.
Perhaps David’s hands are too bloody for this holy purpose (1 Chron 22:7-8; 28;2-3). This is what David tells Solomon and the people. Could it be, though, that David didn’t ever understand God’s “no”, and this business about the blood is David’s attempt to make sense out of a decision that he never understood? Yet God doesn’t say anything about blood here.
Could it be about the people? After obedience to God, the first duty of a king is to care for his people. Instead of taxing his people to finance a temple, and instead of using their labor to build an edifice of limited utility, shouldn’t the people be allowed to build their own houses, and farms, and herds? Shouldn’t the king help the poor, care for the sick, find shelter for the orphan, give the widow security, make safe the alien, and bring justice among his own people? Isn’t that task large enough for anyone who governs? Especially after so many years of war?
I think that God’s reasons are even deeper. God’s answer hints that he is a God who is not tied down to one place. He has power in Eden. He has power in Canaan. He has power in Egypt, in the wilderness, in Jericho; even in Ashdod, Gath, and Ekron. God is a God who goes where he desires to go. He can go to Jerusalem or Bethlehem; it doesn’t matter if there is any room at the inn or not.
God does not need for us to make a place for him; He is the Maker of Place.
God does not need a building so that we can find him; if we seek God, we will find him among his people.
God does not desire stone temples; he seeks living ones.
God doesn’t want to be sent to his room. He wants, oddly enough, scarily enough, to live with us.
Are we open to God’s presence in our lives?
Ron
Nathan said to the king, "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you."
But that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan: “Go and tell my servant David: Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved about among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’”
2 Samuel 7:1-7
The writers of Samuel were both skilled and inspired. They tell their story concisely and powerfully. At times they even tell it playfully. Here they play with the word, “house.” Through this chapter, they use the word house three different ways.
First, “the king was settled in his house.” It may be that this only means the palace, but does it? Isn’t David settling down into his role as the patriarch of his family? After settling his issues with Michal, doesn’t the domestic life of David reach a new and peaceful plateau? No more hiding from Saul. No more intrigue among the Philistines. Not so many running battles with powerful enemies. No more conflict with God. There is this moment in time where there is peace in the house of David.
Now David has time to think instead of react. As he looks out from the roof of his majestic “house of cedar” (second use of house), what does he see? He sees the tabernacle, the dwelling place of the ark, the symbol of the presence of Yahweh. Can you imagine what the tabernacle looks like by now? I’m sure that the Levites maintained it as best they could, but still, that tent has seen a lot of sand, and wind, and sun.
What David sees is unsettling; he can’t live with the inconsistency. I don’t think that we could either. Imagine looking out your window on a rainy night and seeing Jesus sleeping in your front yard in a WWII surplus pup tent, without even a stone for a pillow. It’s easy to understand the move toward action, isn’t it?
So David tells Nathan. Nathan is a courageous prophet, but he doesn’t even see the need to bother God. He phones this one in. "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you."
David’s project concerns God. God is not content to be silent. God doesn’t recall Nathan as a prophet; he redirects Nathan to undo his acceptance speech. “Have I ever asked you, David, or anyone else, to build a house for me?” (The idea of a house for God, a temple, is the third use of house.) God asks David to rethink. God’s answer is obviously, “No.”
So why would God say no to such a noble and honorable request? There are a lot of good possibilities.
Perhaps, as Solomon later says, David was still busy taking care of the enemies of his people (1 Kings 5:3-4). This is possible, but doesn’t appear to completely explain God’s answer.
Perhaps David’s hands are too bloody for this holy purpose (1 Chron 22:7-8; 28;2-3). This is what David tells Solomon and the people. Could it be, though, that David didn’t ever understand God’s “no”, and this business about the blood is David’s attempt to make sense out of a decision that he never understood? Yet God doesn’t say anything about blood here.
Could it be about the people? After obedience to God, the first duty of a king is to care for his people. Instead of taxing his people to finance a temple, and instead of using their labor to build an edifice of limited utility, shouldn’t the people be allowed to build their own houses, and farms, and herds? Shouldn’t the king help the poor, care for the sick, find shelter for the orphan, give the widow security, make safe the alien, and bring justice among his own people? Isn’t that task large enough for anyone who governs? Especially after so many years of war?
I think that God’s reasons are even deeper. God’s answer hints that he is a God who is not tied down to one place. He has power in Eden. He has power in Canaan. He has power in Egypt, in the wilderness, in Jericho; even in Ashdod, Gath, and Ekron. God is a God who goes where he desires to go. He can go to Jerusalem or Bethlehem; it doesn’t matter if there is any room at the inn or not.
God does not need for us to make a place for him; He is the Maker of Place.
God does not need a building so that we can find him; if we seek God, we will find him among his people.
God does not desire stone temples; he seeks living ones.
God doesn’t want to be sent to his room. He wants, oddly enough, scarily enough, to live with us.
Are we open to God’s presence in our lives?
Ron
Monday, December 8, 2008
A sign of contradiction ...
The words of Christine Pohl have been formative in my thinking about what it means to be a community. As we meditate on what it means to be God’s people in this world, in our ministry, hear her words of wisdom:
The contemporary church hungers for models of a more authentic Christian life in which glimpses of the Kingdom can be seen and the promise of the Kingdom is embodied. More than words and ideas, the world needs living pictures of what a life of hospitality could look like. Over sixty years ago, Peter Maurin wrote that “we need Houses of Hospitality to show what idealism looks like when it is practiced.” Communities of hospitality combine in daily experience the rigor and sacrifice, joy and empowerment, of faithful living. Many of those interviewed commented that living in a community of hospitality was the hardest and best thing they had ever done.
A community which embodies hospitality to strangers is “a sign of contradiction, a place where joy and pain, crises and peace are closely interwoven.” Friendships forged in hospitality contradict contemporary messages about who is valuable and “good to be with,” who can “give life to others.” Such communities are also sign of hope “that love is possible, that the world is not condemned to a struggle of oppressors and oppressed, that class and racial warfare is not inevitable.” The gift of hope embedded in these communities of hospitality nourishes, challenges, and transforms guests, hosts, and sometimes, the larger community.
Not every church member would choose the substantial life-style changes that community living requires. However, there is much to be learned about hospitality from these intentional and intense community settings that can be applied to more conventionally structured households and churches. These communities have found ways to cope with the awkwardness, risk, and high demands associated with hospitality to strangers. They have developed structures that allow an ancient practice to thrive in the postmodern world. None set out to be an exemplar of Christian hospitality, but because of their long-term viability and vitality, a number of them do offer a model to which others are drawn.
I believe that the faith community at Westview is one such exemplar of Christian hospitality. Like our ancestors in the first century church, and in congregations in the second and third centuries, together we are discovering what it means to live sacrificially and counterculturally so as to shelter the stranger and open our doors to the outcast.
May our hearts be lifted up today as we see the ways that we boldly embody the hospitality of the Kingdom. May we be challenged to be better and do better as we encounter the places where we still struggle.
Grace and peace,
Ron
*Christine Pohl, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition, pp. 10-11.
The contemporary church hungers for models of a more authentic Christian life in which glimpses of the Kingdom can be seen and the promise of the Kingdom is embodied. More than words and ideas, the world needs living pictures of what a life of hospitality could look like. Over sixty years ago, Peter Maurin wrote that “we need Houses of Hospitality to show what idealism looks like when it is practiced.” Communities of hospitality combine in daily experience the rigor and sacrifice, joy and empowerment, of faithful living. Many of those interviewed commented that living in a community of hospitality was the hardest and best thing they had ever done.
A community which embodies hospitality to strangers is “a sign of contradiction, a place where joy and pain, crises and peace are closely interwoven.” Friendships forged in hospitality contradict contemporary messages about who is valuable and “good to be with,” who can “give life to others.” Such communities are also sign of hope “that love is possible, that the world is not condemned to a struggle of oppressors and oppressed, that class and racial warfare is not inevitable.” The gift of hope embedded in these communities of hospitality nourishes, challenges, and transforms guests, hosts, and sometimes, the larger community.
Not every church member would choose the substantial life-style changes that community living requires. However, there is much to be learned about hospitality from these intentional and intense community settings that can be applied to more conventionally structured households and churches. These communities have found ways to cope with the awkwardness, risk, and high demands associated with hospitality to strangers. They have developed structures that allow an ancient practice to thrive in the postmodern world. None set out to be an exemplar of Christian hospitality, but because of their long-term viability and vitality, a number of them do offer a model to which others are drawn.
I believe that the faith community at Westview is one such exemplar of Christian hospitality. Like our ancestors in the first century church, and in congregations in the second and third centuries, together we are discovering what it means to live sacrificially and counterculturally so as to shelter the stranger and open our doors to the outcast.
May our hearts be lifted up today as we see the ways that we boldly embody the hospitality of the Kingdom. May we be challenged to be better and do better as we encounter the places where we still struggle.
Grace and peace,
Ron
*Christine Pohl, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition, pp. 10-11.
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