Post by brooklet on Sept 18, 2006 8:59:03 GMT -5
THE CLEANSING
It was dawn. Or, nearly so. That hushed moment when the parting of yesterday kisses the day yet to come. And a small group of travelers, cloaked in quietness, walked the dusty, still sleepy streets of the city. It was nearly Passover, when Jerusalem would know no sleep, and bustling would paint each hour. But for now, tranquility rained upon the group, felt in their stride, in the atmosphere they bore along with them on their way to the temple.
External solemn-ness, that adornment for human eyes to see and praise, was not their companion. But a quietness of spirit, like a mantle of peace, radiated all around them. Every now and then gentle laughter spilled over from the uncontainable joy marking their steps. And it showered blessing upon those few souls their early sojourn brought them past.
Their journey traversed several miles, and time-and-again the men turned to one in their midst. Immanuel. Seeking. Listening. Hearing with their hearts. And the closer they drew to the temple, the deeper their eagerness grew – their anticipation infectious.
At last the temple gates stood before them. And a new note rising in the air greeted their entrance. Familiar sounds, welcome elsewhere, but not here. Stepping into the courtyard, their thoughts suddenly wrestled with the noise of flapping wings, bawling cattle, and the relentless bleating of sheep. An uproar so strident struck out at them, whipping the air torn by its discord, that all thought of worship evaporated. The house of God little differed little from a brawling tavern.
Before the group could gain their bearings, Immanuel, with righteous indignation strode from their midst. In his wake tables overturned, merchandise was cast out, and the animals chased from before the presence of the Lord. A new sound now rang across the courtyard. A royal voice. “Take these things from here! How dare you make my Father’s house a marketplace?”
* * * * * * * *
“…and he did evil, for he prepared not his heart to seek the Lord…”
2 Chronicles 12:14 (KJV)
Grace tore through a veil twenty-one centuries ago. Tore it from top to bottom. And what separated us from God was washed away in a river of blood. Never again must we purchase our redemption or pick up a knife to be bloodied by sacrifice. Boldly we can step before the throne of Grace, fall at the feet of our God, and worship Him knowing His utter acceptance.
There is no longer a courtyard through which we must pass to enter His presence. Or is there?
Might the words declaring Rehoboam’s sin also be our own warning? When we enter God’s presence, or attempt to, are our arms empty, or are they full of “merchandise,” carried with us on your way to the holy of holies? Have we traveled into heaven’s court alone, or have we brought thieves established in our own hearts, as companions, stealing from the Almighty as we stand before His very throne.
Immanuel is in the courtyard! The moment for cleansing has arrived!
* * * * * * * *
“My courtyard is cluttered, Lord. The merchandise of cares and worries and plans clamoring in my heart drowns out Your voice. Not because You won’t be heard, but because my ears are tuned more to me than to You. So, I rush into Your Presence, and out again, without ever really listening. Thoughts, schedules, destinations, worries all seduce me, tearing frantically around my courtyard, creating a den of thievery in the very soil where You long to meet with me. Clean the courtyard, Immanuel, thoroughly! Leave no table unturned. Chase out every clamoring voice. I yearn just to sit with You, Lord. Quietly. Listening to Your heart beat by beat. Knowing only the sweetness of Your Presence.”
©DeAnna Brooks
4 November 2004
It was dawn. Or, nearly so. That hushed moment when the parting of yesterday kisses the day yet to come. And a small group of travelers, cloaked in quietness, walked the dusty, still sleepy streets of the city. It was nearly Passover, when Jerusalem would know no sleep, and bustling would paint each hour. But for now, tranquility rained upon the group, felt in their stride, in the atmosphere they bore along with them on their way to the temple.
External solemn-ness, that adornment for human eyes to see and praise, was not their companion. But a quietness of spirit, like a mantle of peace, radiated all around them. Every now and then gentle laughter spilled over from the uncontainable joy marking their steps. And it showered blessing upon those few souls their early sojourn brought them past.
Their journey traversed several miles, and time-and-again the men turned to one in their midst. Immanuel. Seeking. Listening. Hearing with their hearts. And the closer they drew to the temple, the deeper their eagerness grew – their anticipation infectious.
At last the temple gates stood before them. And a new note rising in the air greeted their entrance. Familiar sounds, welcome elsewhere, but not here. Stepping into the courtyard, their thoughts suddenly wrestled with the noise of flapping wings, bawling cattle, and the relentless bleating of sheep. An uproar so strident struck out at them, whipping the air torn by its discord, that all thought of worship evaporated. The house of God little differed little from a brawling tavern.
Before the group could gain their bearings, Immanuel, with righteous indignation strode from their midst. In his wake tables overturned, merchandise was cast out, and the animals chased from before the presence of the Lord. A new sound now rang across the courtyard. A royal voice. “Take these things from here! How dare you make my Father’s house a marketplace?”
* * * * * * * *
“…and he did evil, for he prepared not his heart to seek the Lord…”
2 Chronicles 12:14 (KJV)
Grace tore through a veil twenty-one centuries ago. Tore it from top to bottom. And what separated us from God was washed away in a river of blood. Never again must we purchase our redemption or pick up a knife to be bloodied by sacrifice. Boldly we can step before the throne of Grace, fall at the feet of our God, and worship Him knowing His utter acceptance.
There is no longer a courtyard through which we must pass to enter His presence. Or is there?
Might the words declaring Rehoboam’s sin also be our own warning? When we enter God’s presence, or attempt to, are our arms empty, or are they full of “merchandise,” carried with us on your way to the holy of holies? Have we traveled into heaven’s court alone, or have we brought thieves established in our own hearts, as companions, stealing from the Almighty as we stand before His very throne.
Immanuel is in the courtyard! The moment for cleansing has arrived!
* * * * * * * *
“My courtyard is cluttered, Lord. The merchandise of cares and worries and plans clamoring in my heart drowns out Your voice. Not because You won’t be heard, but because my ears are tuned more to me than to You. So, I rush into Your Presence, and out again, without ever really listening. Thoughts, schedules, destinations, worries all seduce me, tearing frantically around my courtyard, creating a den of thievery in the very soil where You long to meet with me. Clean the courtyard, Immanuel, thoroughly! Leave no table unturned. Chase out every clamoring voice. I yearn just to sit with You, Lord. Quietly. Listening to Your heart beat by beat. Knowing only the sweetness of Your Presence.”
©DeAnna Brooks
4 November 2004