Building God’s House

Psalm 127: 1, 2, Nehemiah 2: 4-8, 17-20

 

 

          What kind of house do you want to build? I know, I know. Most of you have already built or bought your house. So you already know that I’m asking you a trick question. I could be talking about your dream home. What kind of house do you want to build? Don’t worry about where. Just concentrate on what kind. What are the key ingredients for that dream house of yours?

          To build your dream house, you need to have a vision. You need to see it in your mind’s eye, feel it in your bones. You need to feel that feeling when you walk in, that the look is just right, the feel is just so, the mood is warm and loving and soothing, almost like, well, sanctuary.

          What is your dream house? Is it bricks and mortar? Is it by water? Of course, it’s a structure, but what kind? Is it tall and stately or long and sprawled out? When you think of your dream house, what kind of structure is in your vision? Is it a structure built of earthly material—or is it of something else, something made of even sterner stuff than wood or brick? A house is where you live. A house is where you feel special. A dream house should have everything that is special to you. What is it they say: A man’s home is his castle?

          The book of Nehemiah and its companion Ezra are stories about identity and rebuilding, of starting over, of building not just walls and the temple, but also community. After seventy years, the exiled community is allowed to return home. Of course, home is not what it used to be. Jerusalem is not only more or less a relic of its former glory; it is populated by the Jews who were left behind, together with settlers of other ethnic origins. The old Jerusalem is gone. The question for Ezra and Nehemiah and others carrying the commission of the King of Persia to rebuild—is what would constitute the new Jerusalem? What vision do Ezra and Nehemiah carry with them?

          Nehemiah was born in exile. He has never seen Jerusalem. His heritage is Jewish and he knows the stories by heart that his people have told him. He is the cup bearer to the king. In that day, the rank was of great importance. It would be the rough equivalent of Prime Minister today. With all his importance in his job, he still weeps for that which he has never seen, for the dream of restoring his heavenly father’s house. Nehemiah has a vision. He prays to God for the right words, the right presence, and then he says to the king: “send me to Judah, to the city of my fathers’ graves, that I may rebuild it.” And the king says yes. Yes, go and rebuild your city. Nehemiah’s take on it was this: “the king granted me what I asked, for the good hand of my God was upon me.”

          Remember that dream house you were imagining. What is your vision? It is big? Is it strong? Can it stand up to all your needs and desires? If you can build what is in your heart, what will it be like? For the people of Israel in the post-exile, they faced a daunting task. The city lay in ruins. The people who had stayed were now scattered. The people coming home from exile were strangers in the land of their fathers. They had never set foot in the home to which they were returning. What was it that they would build? What was their vision?

          Building the walls of Jerusalem is the first job that falls to Nehemiah. The people needed protection. They were not surrounded by friendlies. This was renewal in the most literal sense. There were no walls to the city. Before any work could even be contemplated on the temple, the city must once again be secure. This was hard work, backbreaking work, but Nehemiah had a vision from God. The task was finished in just fifty two days.

          If you read Nehemiah, you see who rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem. It was Eliashib the high priest with his brothers and priests who built the Sheep Gate. It was the sons of Hassenaah who built the Fish Gate. Joiada and Meshullam, other sons, repaired the Gate of Yeshanah. And there was Melatiah and Jadon and Uzziah and Hannaniah and all their kin.

          Do you begin to get the picture? Change the names and the address and the picture becomes Johnson Road in Jefferson, SC, and the people becomes Clarks and Campbells and Catoes and Sullivans and Kirkleys and Johnsons and Funderburks and Hortons. Nehemiah gathered the people of God to rebuild the city of God.

          Early in his career in ministry, Eugene Peterson, whom you may know as the author of the Bible translation called The Message, had a church to build. His congregation, started from scratch, which had met in his basement for a couple years, was now ready to build a church building. Architects were interviewed by the building committee. It wasn’t fun. The experts all had plans and recommendations, but none seemed to ask about what vision the church had. They came upon a young architect who had never designed a church. He actually visited several worship services before he agreed to take the job. He came to know something about the identity of the people for whom he was to work. From that, he could join his vision with their vision. He designed something that reflected the identity of the church family he had observed.

          You know, Nehemiah had the financial resources. He had the support of King Artaxerxes. He had letters of credit to buy building materials. He could even use the king’s forest for the timbers he would need. Finances were not a problem. But there were other problems. The people had to be re-united. The people of the exile were strangers to the land and to the people left behind. The people left behind had no leadership for generations and had little to bind them together. When the two groups met, they had little in common. The locals had intermarried with pagans. The religion of their forefathers had eroded to the point where it was hard to identify.

          So what Nehemiah had the most trouble with was not the finances. He had the most trouble with uniting the people under a common cause. They had no identity as a people, much less a holy nation. The story of Nehemiah goes far beyond re-building the walls of Jerusalem or even the temple. You know what’s funny? When the walls were about halfway finished, the Arabs and the Ammonites and the Ashdodites, all enemies of the Jews, banded together and threatened to destroy the work. It scared the people. They pulled away. Nehemiah rose up and exhorted the people. He told them not to be afraid, to remember the Lord, who is great and awesome. He told them to fight for their homes. The people came together again and finished the walls.

          As we get closer and closer to beginning the task of rebuilding the physical part of our church, we would be advised to study the story of Nehemiah. We, like the people of post-exilic Jerusalem, have the financial resources to restore our walls. And we, like the congregation of Christ Our King Presbyterian Church pastored by a young Eugene Peterson, are having trouble settling on a design and an architect. Why? Maybe it’s because we are still struggling a bit with finding someone to see us as we are.  We have an identity, but no one we have interviewed has seemed to care much about that.

          Our session and our congregation will be ok. It just takes awhile to articulate our vision. We do have an identity, but we also have an opportunity to recast that identity more in the image of who God wants us to be than ever before. For this moment in our history, we have this opportunity to rebuild our church buildings more in the image of God, to find in the walls that we rebuild the presence of worship—and fellowship—and discipleship—and mission—and ministry. We need to heed the words of Nehemiah: Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your home.

          We have to have a vision. What does God look like? What should the house of God look like? It will be our sanctuary from the world, our launching spot of mission to the world, a place to call our church home. Will it remind us of God? That’s the final plan we’re going to find these next months, if we keep the faith.  If we are to get it right, our identity has to merge with that of God when we build his church.

          Psalm 127 opens with a comment about building. “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.”  You know, God has been in the building business since creation. He started with a garden. He taught man and even instructed mankind how to build the ark, his temple and so many more projects. And yet, God’s greatest building project has had nothing to do with bricks and mortar. God’s greatest building project has been all about sweat and blood. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” [Mark 12: 30, 31]. And

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

          We can plan. We can work hard. But if we are not planting God’s seeds, it won’t be God’s house. Unless the Lord builds the house… Theologian John Goldingray says it like this: “What is true about building and guarding is true about all work. It is vain if it is not accompanied by God’s involvement; it may unaccountably achieve nothing.”[1]

          What does God’s house look like? The look is just right, the feel is just so, the mood is warm and loving and soothing, almost like, well, sanctuary. Surely, the presence of the Lord is in such a place.

Amen Yes.

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     [1] John Goldingray, Psalms Volume 3, Baker Commentary on the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, Baker Academic), 2008.

Going Up to Jerusalem

Psalm 121, Mark 10: 32-34

 

 

          My daughter Emily is a climber. She has spent most of the last decade in Africa, so that’s where most of her climbing has been. I know she has climbed Mt Kenya, the second tallest mountain in Africa after Mt. Kilimanjaro. Emily loves to climb. The view at the top is incredible, but that’s not the only reason she climbs. Emily is thirsty for challenge, for adventure and for the experience itself. The climb changes her, broadens her, makes her stretch.

          My family spent years trekking back and forth to the mountains of North Carolina. We spent many hours on rivers kayaking and white water rafting. When we weren’t on the river, we went hiking. I’m not the climber that my daughter is, but I do love the view that comes at the end of a climb. I remember particularly a place near the Tennessee-North Carolina line called Max Patch. A short climb rewards you with this spectacular view at 4,600 feet. On a clear day, you can see Mt. Mitchell to the east and the Great Smoky Mountains some twenty miles to the west.

          Jerusalem is the Max Patch of its region in Judea. It lies on the southern Judean plateau, which at its highest is about 2,500 feet above sea level. That’s high in that area. 37 miles to the east is the Mediterranean Sea and 22 miles west is the Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth. So Jerusalem is one of the high places of the region. That’s one of the reasons that the gospels have many references to “going up.” Jesus and the disciples were going up to Jerusalem.

          But there is more to this term of going up than just geography. Jerusalem was the Holy City. It was the site of the Temple. It was the destination for the people of Israel at least three times a year for the important feasts that commemorated great days in the history of God’s people, including Passover, Tabernacles and Pentecost. On these high holy days, the people would make their pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They would “go up” to the City of God. The gospels echo that theme. In today’s passage, Jesus and the disciples are on the road, going up to Jerusalem. Matthew 20 and Luke 19 say essentially the same thing.

          With Jesus, it is not just a going up from down below. It is a journey; a journey started long before that culminates in his arrival at his beloved Jerusalem, a city rich in meaning for Jesus but poor in loyalty to the Son of God. It is the place where he will meet the cross; a destination that will forever change the world. Going up. In the Greek, the word is αναβαίνώ (anabaino). Its Hebrew counterpart is transliterated as Aliyah. It means the going up, the ascent. Every time we read of Jesus going to Jerusalem, we see this word. Aliyah is literally the ascending. So to go to Jerusalem was to make Aliyah, or to make the upward journey. Even in modern times, when the Jewish people began to return to the land of Israel, that twentieth century exodus was called Aliyah, the upward journey.

          In the book of Psalms, a full fifteen psalms are devoted to ascent. Psalms 120-134 are a whole section of Psalms of Ascent. They are a group of psalms, ancient poetry and hymns, offering praise and worship to God. It is thought that they may have been sung by worshippers as they ascended the road to Jerusalem to take part in the three ancient festivals. Psalm 121 is exemplary:

                             I lift up my eyes to the hills

                             From where does my help come?

                             My help comes from the Lord,

                             Who made heaven and earth.

                                                                             (v. 1, 2)

These songs call us who would be pilgrims to trust God, to go up the mountains of life, knowing that God has our back, that God never sleeps and that no elements are sufficient to hurt us while in God’s care. We can make our ascent safely while God watches over us.

          We are all familiar with physical ascents, from mountain climbing to hiking to taking the stairs instead of the elevator. These ascents keep up our strength, give us stamina, and offer in some cases a whole new way of looking at things. But we are God’s people. Like John Bunyan’s Christian in his journey through The Pilgrim’s Progress, we too are not just physical, but spiritual children making our way, going up to Jerusalem. In our case, Jerusalem is not so much a geographic location as it is the City of God promised by John in the book of Revelation. It is a spiritual ascent that each Christian must make. Ultimately, when our journey is finished, it is our place of deliverance.

          What are the watchwords of our society? Whatever. If it feels good, do it. Eat, Pray, Love. Peace. Just Do It. Have it Your Way. I’m worth it. Where in this list, which could be much longer, does one find an unselfish meaning? The watchwords of our society have little in common with making an ascent. They have more in common with self-pleasure. They are the avenues of personal reward, the byways of selfishness.

          Our heroes today tend to be packaged in sports uniforms. That’s not as bad as it sounds. This last week, I watched as two baseball teams battled for seven games in the World Series to see who could prevail. It wasn’t hard to notice that both teams played like it. That is, they played like teams. They were unselfish. They pulled for each other’s success. Teams who win championships know a lot about making Aliyah, that upward journey. In that sense, the striving of sports franchises is a microcosm of what Christians need to do in their walk toward Jerusalem. It’s never about personal gain. It’s always about growth and discernment of those truths that will change our lives.

          What am I talking about here? I haven’t been to Jerusalem and most of you haven’t either. Do we have to go to Jerusalem to be pilgrims? Not literally. But symbolically, every one of us has Jerusalem in front of us.  Every one of us has a climb to make, an ascent to conquer. Every one of us has to make Aliyah, to go up toward the high places of life. If we choose to descend into that which we want, that which the voices of this world shout out to just do it or to have it our way, then we go the way of the lost. If we choose to stay home, to stay on that level playing field, we will find out sooner or later that the ground is not really level at all. Nothing stays the same, not things, not people, not relationships. If you’re not climbing, eventually you will find that you are descending.

          The world is not a kind place. There are kind people in the world, but they cannot direct us. They are on their own journeys. They too are faced with these choices of self—or selfless. They need our help as much as we need theirs. To reach out to help one another is in a very real sense a going up, of making that upward journey of faith.

          The thing to understand is this. It’s not about the choice you make, for life is full of choices. Each choice influences the next. Each bend in the road leads you either closer to God or farther away from him. Each climb has places to rest and go on, or to turn around and go back.

          In our passage today, Jesus turns to his faithful and tells them what is going to happen. They are going up to Jerusalem and he tells them what to expect. What he tells them is enough to make anyone turn around and run. What he promises them is betrayal, condemnation, mocking, flogging, degradation and death. It’s hard to hear anything after that. But there is one more thing—after three days he will rise. What’s that? After three days, he will defeat death, dethrone Satan, rise from the grave!

          Is this what going up to Jerusalem is all about? Is this the life of a Christian? Mocking, jeering, contempt, even danger and death? According to Jesus, that’s correct. All that and more.

        But there is that view. When you are on the mountaintop and walking across that long ridge, your view is out of this world and the air is so clean, it feels as if it’s washing your lungs. The way up is sometimes long and sometimes treacherous. The footing can be tricky. There are choices along the way. Go left, go right. Quit and go back. Or—take another step. A journey of a thousand miles begins the same way a trip to the mailbox begins—with a single step.

          If we are to be Christian, we all have to make Aliyah, the upward journey. It is hard and sometimes dangerous and always—always, long. But it is not without its rewards, like the cleanness we begin to experience on the way up, or the strength we begin to feel as we put more and more faith in our Savior along this pilgrimage we call life.

          We need to remember in the midst of all the calls to the easier life, of all the warnings of the danger and challenges ahead, that for those who choose the higher step, the higher ground, there is the promise that we too shall rise. There is no set of circumstances from which the pilgrims of God will not taste victory. It is our act of Sanctification, to climb the mountain that takes us to faith and obedience. Going up, making Aliyah, is the only choice that brings life.