I recently wrote about that day and do not wish to diminish what was written. And perhaps this may be a slight repeat, there was something the Lord laid upon my heart this morning in preparation to leave for church. I, though, would like to express this thought with a new set of eyes, as if the previous writing was not written or at least not written so recently.
Yesterday, one year ago, was one of the hardest days I ever had to endure. It was not just the passing away of my grandpa; and me being the oldest grandchild I had a longer time to had known him. And despite in me thinking I knew him, there are a lot of things I so wish I could have learned about him. This is beyond the sage advice or even his gruff exterior. Like my grandmother, I would have liked to had known more of his life growing up, his jobs, his focus, his life’s plans, etc. And to just say “husband” and “farmer” is about like wanting to buy a car or a house with all kinds of new things or get to know things and just to sum those up “it’s a car” and “it’s a house” would sorely minimize the person as it would those objects. Similarly we never know a person in who they really are if all we got was a brief visual. A number of common phrases are “never judge a book by its cover” and “beauty is only skin deep” are applicable because it is partly through relationship—the giving and taking of each other, the sharing of each other—that we learn a deeper part of a person. But there is something that runs even deeper and that are the motives, the essence, the summation of life’s experiences—good and bad, along with standards or frames of reference which truly detail the actual person. Without knowing some of the machines or places that my grandpa had lived and did, his stories would be nothing but stories with a lack of imagination to allow things to take form and to understand.
One of the mysteries I would had liked to had known was the design of the last house he built (his own) as to why he designed it the way he did. Was it a copy of another house he lived? Was it a copy of a house he visited? Was it a hybrid idea that formed from seeing—as a carpenter and builder—of what to include and what not to include (maybe that is where I get my method for developing websites)? Or was it purely based on “the cheap” meaning that there were select materials and so the house was formed based on the length/dimensions of the materials used and just make a go with it? What I do know is that the house still stands, even after being gutted, it still resembles the original idea of what he designed. And after all of my life and for fifty years of my grandparents, they perhaps could recall nail by nail, board by board, room by room of the construction and nuance of the home that if they were blind they would know exactly how many steps it was to the bathroom, stove, sink, back porch, living room chairs, bedrooms, etc. A house is just a building, but a home is the essence of what makes it a home and not just a building used as a home. A home is beyond shelter, food storage and prep, a place to clean oneself, sleep, and store stuff. It is memories, love shared, the gathering and ingathering, meals of all sorts—perhaps we could even take a step further that each dish of a meal were a representation of the personality of the person who made it, why it was made, and who it was for? Maybe then we could know or taste their spiciness or love or comfort or whatever the essence of that dish being the dish that was the person. And the same is true in a home. Each photo on the wall represents not just a friend or family member, but has a story. Not just a story of that day or time of when the photo was taken, but a moment of life captured that reveals a summation or change in a person’s life. Even perhaps the paint of carpet chosen for the room. For many, the colors—floors, walls, ceilings—serve only as function and perhaps the affordable function or available function. For some, colors represents an artist’s canvas where a room takes shape by choices made and applied. But for my grandpa, the master bedroom—him and his wife’s bedroom—the walls were a specific shade of a pink/purple nearly unique. And for many, the colors for everything else—furniture, floor, etc.—clashed. But there was a reason for that bedroom’s wall color: it was my grandma’s favorite color. And because it was her favorite color, that is all that mattered.
And with each of us we have our own similar memories of rooms or houses (a personification of people) that we can recall with minimal effort. Tears, fears, dreams, anger, frustration, love, pain…a swirling kaleidoscope of everything that when settled or allowed, becomes something (or someone) that/whom we love. It isn’t the glasses, the cane, the one shoe with the thicker sole, the bib overalls, or his voice…tones that can bring fear, pain, love, or security from a singular source…But it is everything else—his time in Colorado, his time has a hired hand on farms, his school tenure, his military service, his war wound, his assorted of jobs he held after married, his voluminous opinions on a host of subjects, his encyclopedic memory (how he can remember as an old man poems and songs he had to recite for school or church as a kid is beyond my comprehension), the homes and farms him and his family lived, and all the people—family, friends, and momentary people, like those at the store or gas station—add their essence to his essence and his essence to their essence that culminates to form my grandpa, Edwin Corzette.
I attempted to paint a picture of stability, home, love, power, presence, etc. of my grandpa to swing to something that the Lord placed into my heart which is a short phrase found in Revelation 21:3, “And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, ‘Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God.’” (If those two statements don’t well up strong emotions in you, I scarcely think you’re a Christian.) This tabernacle of God connection—to help formulate and tie in what I wrote about—is found (I specifically was drawn to these specific verses) in a number of portions in the Bible and in my mind all hold the same meaning. Ezekiel 37:25-28 says, “Then they shall dwell in the land that I have given to Jacob My servant (read what I wrote about why God interchangeably uses the names Jacob and Israel because there is a purpose for that that all Bible students ought to know and pick up on), where your fathers dwelt; and they shall dwell there, they, their children, and their children’s children, forever; and My servant David shall be their prince forever. Moreover I will make a covenant of peace with them, and it shall be an everlasting covenant with them; I will establish them and multiply them, and I will set My sanctuary in their midst forevermore. My tabernacle also shall be with them; indeed I will be their God, and they shall be My people. The nations also will know that I, the LORD, sanctify Israel, when My sanctuary is in their midst forevermore” (emphasis added). Jeremiah 32:38-41 says, “They shall be My people, and I will be their God; then I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear Me forever, for the good of them and their children after them. And I will make an everlasting covenant with them, that I will not turn away from doing them good; but I will put My fear in their hearts so that they will not depart from Me. Yes, I will rejoice over them to do them good, and I will assuredly plant them in this land, with all My heart and with all My soul” (emphasis added). With all three of these portions of scripture we are—gosh, it is almost indescribable about God when looking at these passages—captivated by the love, protection, strength, love, presence, and love (yes, intentionally repeated love) of God. This tabernacle has incredible meaning, even just in this word. The tabernacle in the Old Testament was a movable tent placed when God desired to meet with His people. Eventually the alleged inferior tabernacle was replaced by the permanent structure of the temple. But God never wastes words in why He chose to use the word: tabernacle. First, as I just said, it is movable. This means that the presence of God—like faith—is moving, growing, and is always available to be in and with us. In other words, the presence of God—not just the glory of God manifested in the burning bush or in the temple when Solomon declared it—is with us at work, at school, in our homes, in our church, when we share Jesus with someone, when we offer Jesus in a time for a hurting heart, etc. Second, this tabernacle was and had to be smaller in order to be movable, just like the framework that makes up our body. God’s presence in our lives isn’t reduced to a building or a special event, but God’s presence can be evident and in and through our lives. And because God’s presence is movable within us and is confined to our frame, the tabernacle is also personal or requires personal involvement. Once the temple was built, it was done. Other than maintenance, it was done. And sometimes once something is fully built, eventually things get ignored, and deterioration sets in (I have had the pleasured to do LOTS AND LOTS of IT/tech jobs and so I see what happens when people take care of offices, stores, and buildings (and the equipment) and what happens when it is ignored or piled high with junk.). But the tabernacle required set up, tear down, and maintenance along the way. This means that God is always at work fixing or changing or making new in our lives as well as we discard, change, exchange thoughts, desires, plans, etc. for God’s thoughts, desires, and plans. It is His presence—His glory, love, guidance, loving Father, caring Friend, protection, wisdom, promises, etc.—is what makes (or ought to make us) us desire His presence in our churches, in our offices, in our classrooms, in our families, and in our room of solitude when wrestling with thoughts, plans, fears, pain, hurt, worry, and loss. It is, especially in those down times, those times that His presence can be most evident…even if it feels like we are completely alone and God’s voice is absent.
And so, as a closing thought, is why Jesus very carefully, plainly, and from His perspective chose to declare something in Luke 17:21, “…For indeed, the kingdom of God is within you.” Like church, like that farm in Missouri, like a conference, like a personal altar we’ve set up where we truly got a hold of God, God’s tabernacle brings one more key thing: promise. It is that promise that Jesus tried to convey to His disciples during the Last Supper in John 14:1-3, “Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I got to prepare a place for you. And if I got and prepare a place for you, I will (not maybe, not hopefully, not perhaps, not when there is money in the bank and all the world is happy) come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.” Promises made between people seem to be extremely convenient and conditional. When all is well or if you eat all your veggies, blessing will follow. But if you don’t eat your peas or when life—loss, doctor’s diagnosis, a girl/boyfriend/husband/wife tells you it is over, when the sale of the farm is finalized, the world is falling apart, elections are coming, and when you get the phone call that your loved one has passed on—hits and hits hard, does God disappear? Do God’s plans end? Is God taken unaware? Is God a myth? Absolutely and most definitely NO. For behold, His tabernacle is with man (or you). May we be His people so He can be our God. May His will and word come to pass, so long as we desire to allow His tabernacle to be in our heart. And God is never meant for just solely us; but for us to declare and share to others, most especially to the least of these and to those who’ve hurt or are hurting the most.