I Will Dwell in The House of The LORD

OUR RELOCATION to Alaska 9/9/‘99 without a job once again tested our faith. We moved into the bottom of our second son’s duplex and looked for work. After three long months, a position opened for my husband at our new church to run the Resource Center. Here we were: near our children, in a good church, with a job, back in ministry, and living in a house instead of a motel. Six weeks later we celebrated God’s grace and goodness at a staff Christmas party, about which I journaled:

Dear LORD,

Five long tables under white linen were set with fine china and sparkling crystal. Door frames graced with bright holiday decor and glowing candles transformed a living room into a banquet hall for our staff Christmas party. A large picture window opened onto a winter wonderland illuminated by a twinkling fir tree. Scintillating icicle lights hung from the roof. A feast spread before us—barbecued New York steaks, mounds of Alaskan king crab, festive salads and entremets, sparkling cider in crystal goblets. Happy voices, laughter, and singing filled the room. I felt so overwhelmed! I could only silently rejoice in You for spreading this entire “table” before us.

A few months ago I was alone in a motel room without a home, church, or ministry, eating nuked TV dinners at 11:00 at night when Conrad would finally be off after a long pointless day of sales work. It seemed appropriate to celebrate the end of that “wilderness” by wrapping up my collection of motel soaps and shampoos to bring for the party’s “Chinese Auction.” They said to bring anonymous, funny gifts from home. However, the person who received my collection did not think it was funny at all. Long after the laughter of the evening faded I lay in the darkness, still painfully embarrassed at having brought such a crude gift.

Why this raging inner battle after such a joyful celebration? Do You have any redeeming value for my thoughtless stupidity? I can only pray that those “gross” soaps and “disgusting” shampoos will be used by Your sweet Spirit as a reminder to the receiver that it is only by grace we can enter and enjoy the blessings of fellowship and ministry in Your house.

Yes, only by grace! Still more lessons of grace came and went. Sometimes I think of John the Baptist’s words about his relationship with Jesus, “He must increase but I must decrease” (Jn. 3:30). I thought getting older meant I’d become better—more mature and wise and spiritually valuable. Yet, the older I become, the more I realize my depravity, my brokenness, my utter weakness. I’m utterly dependent upon Him, His strength, His grace, His mercy, love, wisdom, power. . . . It’s like I’m being swallowed up in Him.

I’m only a shadow of past glory—singing, acting, painting, performing. . . . Today my tremors, insomnia, arthritis, food intolerances, and poliomyelitis compromised nervous system all work together to reduce me, break me, and according to God’s promise, mold me into the image of Jesus—humbling me, breaking my willfulness, my temper, co-dependence, and whatever other baggage I’ve carried for so long.

I cry out with the psalmist, How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord, my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you (Psa 84:1-4).

The beauty, bounty, and joyous celebration of our staff Christmas party after months of homelessness cannot begin to compare with the Marriage Feast of the Lamb after the end of our earth life! What absolutely amazing grace that we will dwell in the house of the LORD forever!

YOUR DWELLING PLACE

‘Tis dawning upon me,
My years are increasing
And my time left is decreasing
Faster than I can absorb their passing.

Life caters to the young.
My health and strength a youthful echo
In an unwilling reality check
Of increasing limitations.

You have been my God in ages past
And You are my Lord God yet.
Is there a place in Your house
For the socially homeless,
Chronologically gifted,
Retreads and has-beens?

But where do You live?
Not in temples made with hands?
Oh… but in the heart
Of true believers—
Common earthen vessels
Not chosen for their loveliness.
Your dwelling place becomes lovely
Because You are there.

Your loveliness within
Depends not on the age or strength,
Intelligence or physical features
Of this clay pot.
The less of me, the more of You,
The more Your loveliness shines through.
How lovely is Your dwelling place!

—MarJean S. Peters