DWELLING IN THE PRESENCE OF GOD

This is the first conversation in what I hope will be a dialogue of hope and joy. Not too long ago, I became acutely aware of my mortality. Don't get me wrong, I've always had a sense of the brevity of our time on this earthly vale. You can't be raised in an evangelical christian home without being confronted with it. In fact, I was surprised when my sixteenth birthday came and I was still alive and kicking. Imagine my surprise to wake up at 57 and realize that I am still alive and kicking. Unless I'm solving one of life's more complex issues, (what to eat for breakfast, what task to do first, etc....)I usually awake completely amazed that I'm here for another day.

What I'm feeling now is different.

There is a knowing, a gentle acceptance, that my time on this earth is less than the amount of time I've lived on it to this point. It's not a morbid thought. In fact, I've begun to think about my remaining time in a different light. Which is the reason for this blog/dialogue. I want to do more than just document my days and thoughts about those days. I hope to begin a dialogue with others of like faith. I don't want to argue, I don't want to cram my thinking down anyone's throat, I want to talk about the things of our Christian faith in a normal tone of voice without the rancor so common among the rabid of the faith. That is why I chose to title the blog “The Sparrows Perch.”

It comes from Psalms 84 and the wonder the Psalmist felt as he watched with envy the sparrows living within the tabernacle. For the Psalmist, just one day in the court of God was better than thousands among the wicked. The tiny sparrows could dare to enter the place God had forbidden men to go, except for a handful of priests. The tiny bird went about its life oblivious to the plight of mankind and the reason for the structure it now inhabited. The posts, beams, beaver skins, and draperies were perches from which to observe the business of religion. The Psalmist couldn't help but notice how everything the sparrow needed was provided for. It didn't live out its days in fear of where the next meal was coming from, how it would be dressed, or whether it could live another day. The sparrows perch was the provision of God. From there, it could witness and testify to the wickedness of man and the mercies of God. When the Psalmist wrote Psalm 91, you can tell the effect the tiny sparrow had on the Psalmist. You can see the envy with which he declares 'happy are those who dwell in the shadow of the most high.' The sparrow is free from the fowlers snare, the terrors of the hunter, the plagues, and evil of man. If the Sparrows perch is the tabernacle of God, there is nothing to fear. If his home is under the wings of the most high, then there is nothing to fear. Life will bring nothing to him that he can't escape or pass through.

For me, the sparrow's perch is a place of hope and joy. It is wondrous to live in that place where grace abounds and life is but a step to life. It is a place where the innocence of children makes me ponder the weightier things of God. It is a place where my soul is fed with the mannah from heaven. It is a place where the mercies and grace of God are revealed through the sacrificial work of the cross. The sparrows perch is beyond endless controversies and the need to be right about religion. So, everything you read here, like the Psalmist, will be my observations and how I see them fitting what I know of God.

Which brings me to the day I took my grandchildren fishing. In one instant, I learned about the holiness of God from the mouth of my two grandchildren. It was a bright clear Saturday morning, and I'd scheduled myself to do an estimate for one of the men in the church. That weekend, my wife decided to take care of little Lindsey and Brendan. The man I was going to do the estimate for, had a spring fed pond on his property and I asked him if I could bring the grandchildren with me to do some fishing. He agreed and I loaded the little ones in the front seat of my truck. I threw my rods and reels in the back of the truck, along with a can of corn, and an old tackle box. This was the first time I'd ever had any grandchild in my truck. I had to empty it of my console organizer and my briefcase in order to make room for them. I buckled them in and patted Brendan on his leg. “Alright! Let's go do some fishing.” I slipped the truck in gear and began to drive off, when Brendan patted my leg.

“Grandpa, turn the airbag off.”

“What?” I asked.

“If we're in the front seat, you have to turn the airbag off.” he explained.

“Who says?” I asked.

I didn't understand. I thought airbags were to protect us. It didn't make sense to me.

“Grandma turns her's off when we ride with her.”

Little Lindsey looks over and says “It's a law.”

“I didn't know that.” I replied.

“Why not?” Brendan asked.

Sparrow moment! I was suddenly thrust into the holiness of God, as well as the sinfulness of man in less than a second. I truly didn't know that you had to have the airbag turned off when you have children in the front seat. The airbag had never been turned off. It didn't matter, if a policeman had pulled me over for any reason, he would have written me up for failing to turn off the airbag. I was ignorant of the law, but it wouldn't have mattered. The law is the law. . . .

It doesn't take men writing down the laws to make it a law. In almost every culture, it is understood that to take a man's life without reason, is wrong. To steal is to steal, no matter where you come from or what religion you follow. To lie or deceive, is wrong in every culture. Yet, when it comes to the holiness of God, who would know that to step on a grave or touch a carcass of anything dead was wrong? Who would know that to make an altar to God made of cut stone was wrong, unless he revealed it to us. Unless he told us, we wouldn't know what was offensive to him. We would be 'sinning,' but not even realize it. There would be a judgment against us, but we wouldn't know it. For a holy, righteous God, the offense would be there, whether we realized it or not. We could complain or fain ignorance, but it wouldn't matter. As the sovereign creator of the universe, he is the one who determines what is offensive.

The arrogance of man is revealed in our efforts to excuse or diminish the offense. Religion makes some things more or less offensive to God than others. We call them laws. By doing this, we hope to make what we avoid or what we do a counterbalance to our offenses. We create a tally sheet, a ledger, from which we hope to accrue credit against the debit sheet of our sins. Our lives become a laundry list of good things we did that we hope will outweigh the offenses. It is a deplorable condition to be in. It doesn't matter whether you believe in God or not. It doesn't matter whether you've followed God's written laws as given to Moses or not. It doesn't matter. I've become convinced, that God didn't reveal everything that was an offense to him, because we couldn't have handled it. The laws given to Moses were impossible to keep as it was.

Wicked, sinful man, what is to be done? The reason God uses the phrase 'wicked, sinful,' is to make sure that everyone was covered. Wicked people don't necessarily know that they are violating God's law, because they aren't trying to live God's laws. Sinful men know what offends God and do it anyway. Hence the scripture in Romans, 'all men have sinned and fallen short of God's glory.' You suddenly find yourself in the car of life screaming: “We're all gonna die, we're all gonna die.” The chasm between you and God is beyond anything your bridge of good works can span. All your acts of obedience pale in comparison to the ignorant offenses committed over your lifetime.

BUMMER!

All the while, the sparrow pops freely in and out of the tabernacle of God. Holiness is holiness. The sparrow won't stand at the judgment seat. We will! We were better off when we didn't know we were naked. That is why the law is useless to save. It can't change us up. It doesn't make us holy. It reveals the offense, and in revealing it, makes the offense attractive. The sparrow just goes on singing praises to God, while we on the other hang our head in shame. There is seemingly no way for us to approach a holy and righteous being. What are we to do?

That will be the topic for the next blog.