Thinking of the Temple

I keep thinking of the first temple. A flimsy thing it must have been. I mean, there it was – woven material held in place with rope and poles, swaying in the wind, likely hot inside. Is this a fit dwelling place for God? I made a model of it once. In Sunday School we cut out a model of it from a pattern, I suppose purchased in a store that supplied projects for Sunday Schools. It was white paper, held together with Elmer’s glue and finger prints. I think of that model every once in awhile. I wonder whatever became of it.

Later – years later – the realization came to me that this fragile paper structure actually represented a real place – the dwelling place of God. This puzzled me. Wasn’t God everywhere? One description of hell is being “apart from God.” I’ve studied this a bit – I know all the stock answers, but it doesn’t answer the question, because I have absolutely no idea what being apart from God would be like. I can’t even imagine it.

So. Anyway. God dwells in a tent – or at least the Glory of God is a viable presence there, a tangible bug zapper dealing in the real world in a real and measurable way.

What kind of God is this? Hmmm. Maybe this tent idea isn’t such a strange idea after all. Because of the fall, we were set apart – the wrong way. Maybe it’s not so much that we can experience him – after all, by everything we see, hear, taste, touch, smell – we experience him. Maybe the tent is for him to experience us. Wow. Goose bumps.