Finding The Right House For God
Sermon
Sermons on the First Readings
Series III, Cycle B
Have you ever noticed how some families move a lot? Some are corporate moves, some are military, and some are United Methodist pastors. Whatever the case, every time they move they have to find new lodging. In the military, quarters are often provided. The same may be true for clergy if churches own a manse or a parsonage. But, sometimes you have to look for a new home, which means spending some time with real estate agents traveling here and there to find the perfect house. Of course, no house is ever perfect. When you own a home, no matter where you sit you see something that needs fixing. But when you're looking, you hope to find something that's just right with a minimum of fix-up. Every family searching for a new home has its own requirements -- so many bedrooms, bathrooms, and a certain style garage. Finding the right house means there will be no rest for the weary. Some decide to give up looking and build the perfect dream house, and if that doesn't cause you to lose your religion, nothing else will!
One day, David got the bright idea that God needed a house, and David even volunteered to help. Never mind that God hadn't needed a house so far -- that is, for eternity. God had gotten along just fine without one. But, when a king like David gets something in his head, there is no stopping him. Yet, unlike other leaders who simply announce something and expect it to be done with the snap of a finger, David decided it might be a good idea to consult his chief religious counselor, the prophet Nathan, who would later nail David with "Thou art the man!" But, for now Nathan has just come to listen to see what his king has on his mind.
The room gets very quiet and David makes his announcement, "Here I am living in the lap of luxury in this house of cedar and God is housed in nothing but curtains. It's just not right." The hidden and understood message was, "I want to build a house for the Lord." Who is Nathan to question something like that? After all, David gets it. He understands that God is more important that he is, right? David doesn't want his God to be slumming it down in the ghetto while he's living it up in the high-rent district. What a nice idea, Nathan must have thought. Now here's a king who has his priorities straight. What a great boss I have! Not some atheistic ingrate, you know the kind -- a self-made man who worships his maker. No, David knows he's a servant of the Lord.
It's almost as if David and Nathan have peeked into the future and know that later the prophet Haggai will give the people a hard time for allowing God's house to fall apart while they were building mansions for themselves. "In the second year of the King Darius on the first day of the sixth month, the word of the Lord came through the prophet Haggai to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest: These are the words of the Lord of hosts: This nation says to itself that it is not yet time for the house of the Lord to be rebuilt. Then this word came through Haggai the prophet: Is it a time for you to live in your own well-roofed houses, while this house lies in ruins?" (Haggai 1:1-4). Haggai goes on to pronounce a curse on the people's land for not rebuilding God's house. That really got everyone's attention, especially good old Zarubbabel who put everybody to work renovating the house of the Lord.
So David's instinct is right. We shouldn't live uptown in nice digs while God is nearly homeless. It all makes sense. No wonder Nathan said, "Sounds like a great plan!" He said it in part because he knew that God had always been with David and "assumed" that meant that God was giving David all sorts of good ideas. Later in the story, when David comes on to Bathsheba, Nathan will realize that some of David's bright ideas came from his own sinfulness and had nothing to do with the Lord. But, that one was easy. It was outright murder and adultery. This one's harder to figure out. It has to do with the fact that all our decisions and choices in life are tainted in self-interest in some way or another, even our seemingly altruistic ones. Like why do some people help build Habitat for Humanity houses or serve stew in soup kitchens? Is it to be seen doing volunteer work in hopes of getting the volunteer of the year award in their hometowns? Or impressing future clients or business partners? There is no way we can ever know all the ulterior motives we have for doing good in our communities. That is the universal and radical nature of sin. It touches all of us and infects every part of our personalities. As Augustine once noted, "There is evil in every good person and good in every evil one."
So, how was Nathan to know that David had anything nefarious in mind? Of course, Nathan blurted his affirmative response out before consulting with God. Big mistake. What was he thinking? It's not the first time clergy-types have given elected officials bad advice, and I'm sure it won't be the last. David must have been excited to hear his chief counselor agree with him. As Nathan went off to pray just to make sure the Lord agreed with him, David went to bed thinking which architects and builders were going to get the contract. You've got to admit David seems to be trying to do the right thing. He wants to do something good for God.
Well, imagine Nathan's surprise when he knelt down to pray that night. "It's me again, Lord, Nathan, your humble servant checking in. The most amazing thing happened today. David, your beloved one, wants to build a house for you! How about that?" And Yahweh replies, "You think you're telling me something I don't already know? I know your every thought and his. And guess what? Both of you are wrong about this. I don't want a house. Don't need one. When are you guys going to learn that I'm in charge around here? If a house is going to be built for me, I'm the one who's going to suggest it, not you, and certainly not David. Who does he think he is anyway? You go back and tell him to put his building tools away and keep doing his job. I'll build a house when I'm good and ready, and he won't be the one who's helping build it anyway. You tell him that!"
Scripture doesn't tell us whether or not Nathan was quaking by the end of this prayer but I would have been. God really set him and David straight. I wonder why? I think there are several reasons. First of all, David and Nathan are both anthropomorphizing God in thinking that God needs a house like human beings. Stephen made it clear in his famous speech when he quotes the prophet saying, "Heaven is my throne and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me, says the Lord, or what is the place of my rest? Did not my hand make all these things?" (Acts 7:49-50).
Second, anthropomorphizing God is a way of putting God in a box, which we're guilty of doing all the time. Let's reduce God to something we can know and control. J. B. Phillips is right -- our God is too small. That's why God offers this gentle rebuke. David's plan for a house is seen as a threat to God's freedom in an effort to control God's presence.
Third, David's own self-interest pokes through in his desire to elevate his own status as a king by building a temple for God, something that will sanction his own reign as king. Tents represent a nomadic culture, the bottom rung of the social ladder. David wants to build something that will last as a way of saying that his kingdom will have more of a sense of permanence about it.
God sees right through David's ruse, and seems to be saying, "I don't need a temple now. I'm doing just fine without one. Temples are not for me; they're for human beings anyway. Besides, I'm more interested in obedience than sacrifice." What God is helping both Nathan and David understand is that the "place" of God is not as important as the "presence" of God. God's "presence" was with Saul for a time and then it left him and went with David. God's "presence" is the crucial thing.
Throughout the history of the Judeo-Christian tradition, we have seen two types of architecture that represent different theologies -- holy place and holy people. One is seen in the temple with its special holy of holies where only the high priests can go. Holy place theology is also seen in Romanesque and Gothic architecture during the medieval period and the Counter-Reformation. By contrast, holy people theology is seen in the synagogue, the catacombs, the early house churches, the Puritan plain-style churches, and more theater-in-the-round churches in modern times. In holy people theology, there is no one sacred place, but a gathering of God's people where God's "presence" is felt in every heart. God's essence is celestial, not confined to this building or that in material existence.
God is not telling David that there will never be a "place" to worship. God is telling David that it's just not so important that he has to build it now. In fact, it will be David's son who will build it someday, Solomon. In many ways, God's house is wherever the people of God are. Families that move around a lot know that "home" is wherever they are, not the particular houses in which they have lived through the years. God's house is wherever the poor are being fed, the downtrodden are being lifted up, and wherever justice is being done.
There's more, and this is the surprising part of the story. God doesn't just turn down David's offer. God gives David an even greater one. "I will build a house for you." What's cool about this is that there is a play on words here. The Hebrew word for "house" -- beth or bayit -- has multiple meanings. It can mean a simple dwelling, a physical structure in which a family lives. It can mean a palace or a temple. But, it can also refer to a tribal group and even a dynasty. It's this latter meaning that God has in mind when God promises to build a house for David. I wonder if David actually got the amazing offer God was laying before him.
So often we go to God with an idea -- something that will be good for the community and perhaps even for us. It's a prayer, a wish. And without any hesitation, God says, "No." At first we are disappointed thinking that God must not love us. Then, if we listen carefully we will see that God has something even greater in mind. As Luther once noted, "We pray for silver when all along God wants to give us gold." That's what happens for David. God says, "I will make you a great name among the great ones of the earth. I will assign a place for my people Israel; there I will plant them and they shall dwell in their own land ... I will give you peace from all your enemies. The Lord has told you that he would build up your royal house." There, that's it -- the "royal house." This is the House of David that will be forever. Now, isn't that better than a little old temple, especially one that will get sacked during the Babylonian exile? David can't see that far ahead, but has enough sense that he's getting gold when all he asked for was silver.
There's one final point. God mentions how David's son will build the house for the Lord. I think there's something hidden here. God is not just referring to Solomon who will build the temple. God is foreshadowing David's greater son, the one we Christians call the Christ, the one who is of "the house and lineage of David." He will be the fulfillment of God's promise to David.
So, you see, finding and building the right house for the Lord is not as easy as we might have originally thought. Why? Because we aren't the ones doing the building. God is the chief builder all along. But who is really surprised to hear that? Amen.
One day, David got the bright idea that God needed a house, and David even volunteered to help. Never mind that God hadn't needed a house so far -- that is, for eternity. God had gotten along just fine without one. But, when a king like David gets something in his head, there is no stopping him. Yet, unlike other leaders who simply announce something and expect it to be done with the snap of a finger, David decided it might be a good idea to consult his chief religious counselor, the prophet Nathan, who would later nail David with "Thou art the man!" But, for now Nathan has just come to listen to see what his king has on his mind.
The room gets very quiet and David makes his announcement, "Here I am living in the lap of luxury in this house of cedar and God is housed in nothing but curtains. It's just not right." The hidden and understood message was, "I want to build a house for the Lord." Who is Nathan to question something like that? After all, David gets it. He understands that God is more important that he is, right? David doesn't want his God to be slumming it down in the ghetto while he's living it up in the high-rent district. What a nice idea, Nathan must have thought. Now here's a king who has his priorities straight. What a great boss I have! Not some atheistic ingrate, you know the kind -- a self-made man who worships his maker. No, David knows he's a servant of the Lord.
It's almost as if David and Nathan have peeked into the future and know that later the prophet Haggai will give the people a hard time for allowing God's house to fall apart while they were building mansions for themselves. "In the second year of the King Darius on the first day of the sixth month, the word of the Lord came through the prophet Haggai to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest: These are the words of the Lord of hosts: This nation says to itself that it is not yet time for the house of the Lord to be rebuilt. Then this word came through Haggai the prophet: Is it a time for you to live in your own well-roofed houses, while this house lies in ruins?" (Haggai 1:1-4). Haggai goes on to pronounce a curse on the people's land for not rebuilding God's house. That really got everyone's attention, especially good old Zarubbabel who put everybody to work renovating the house of the Lord.
So David's instinct is right. We shouldn't live uptown in nice digs while God is nearly homeless. It all makes sense. No wonder Nathan said, "Sounds like a great plan!" He said it in part because he knew that God had always been with David and "assumed" that meant that God was giving David all sorts of good ideas. Later in the story, when David comes on to Bathsheba, Nathan will realize that some of David's bright ideas came from his own sinfulness and had nothing to do with the Lord. But, that one was easy. It was outright murder and adultery. This one's harder to figure out. It has to do with the fact that all our decisions and choices in life are tainted in self-interest in some way or another, even our seemingly altruistic ones. Like why do some people help build Habitat for Humanity houses or serve stew in soup kitchens? Is it to be seen doing volunteer work in hopes of getting the volunteer of the year award in their hometowns? Or impressing future clients or business partners? There is no way we can ever know all the ulterior motives we have for doing good in our communities. That is the universal and radical nature of sin. It touches all of us and infects every part of our personalities. As Augustine once noted, "There is evil in every good person and good in every evil one."
So, how was Nathan to know that David had anything nefarious in mind? Of course, Nathan blurted his affirmative response out before consulting with God. Big mistake. What was he thinking? It's not the first time clergy-types have given elected officials bad advice, and I'm sure it won't be the last. David must have been excited to hear his chief counselor agree with him. As Nathan went off to pray just to make sure the Lord agreed with him, David went to bed thinking which architects and builders were going to get the contract. You've got to admit David seems to be trying to do the right thing. He wants to do something good for God.
Well, imagine Nathan's surprise when he knelt down to pray that night. "It's me again, Lord, Nathan, your humble servant checking in. The most amazing thing happened today. David, your beloved one, wants to build a house for you! How about that?" And Yahweh replies, "You think you're telling me something I don't already know? I know your every thought and his. And guess what? Both of you are wrong about this. I don't want a house. Don't need one. When are you guys going to learn that I'm in charge around here? If a house is going to be built for me, I'm the one who's going to suggest it, not you, and certainly not David. Who does he think he is anyway? You go back and tell him to put his building tools away and keep doing his job. I'll build a house when I'm good and ready, and he won't be the one who's helping build it anyway. You tell him that!"
Scripture doesn't tell us whether or not Nathan was quaking by the end of this prayer but I would have been. God really set him and David straight. I wonder why? I think there are several reasons. First of all, David and Nathan are both anthropomorphizing God in thinking that God needs a house like human beings. Stephen made it clear in his famous speech when he quotes the prophet saying, "Heaven is my throne and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me, says the Lord, or what is the place of my rest? Did not my hand make all these things?" (Acts 7:49-50).
Second, anthropomorphizing God is a way of putting God in a box, which we're guilty of doing all the time. Let's reduce God to something we can know and control. J. B. Phillips is right -- our God is too small. That's why God offers this gentle rebuke. David's plan for a house is seen as a threat to God's freedom in an effort to control God's presence.
Third, David's own self-interest pokes through in his desire to elevate his own status as a king by building a temple for God, something that will sanction his own reign as king. Tents represent a nomadic culture, the bottom rung of the social ladder. David wants to build something that will last as a way of saying that his kingdom will have more of a sense of permanence about it.
God sees right through David's ruse, and seems to be saying, "I don't need a temple now. I'm doing just fine without one. Temples are not for me; they're for human beings anyway. Besides, I'm more interested in obedience than sacrifice." What God is helping both Nathan and David understand is that the "place" of God is not as important as the "presence" of God. God's "presence" was with Saul for a time and then it left him and went with David. God's "presence" is the crucial thing.
Throughout the history of the Judeo-Christian tradition, we have seen two types of architecture that represent different theologies -- holy place and holy people. One is seen in the temple with its special holy of holies where only the high priests can go. Holy place theology is also seen in Romanesque and Gothic architecture during the medieval period and the Counter-Reformation. By contrast, holy people theology is seen in the synagogue, the catacombs, the early house churches, the Puritan plain-style churches, and more theater-in-the-round churches in modern times. In holy people theology, there is no one sacred place, but a gathering of God's people where God's "presence" is felt in every heart. God's essence is celestial, not confined to this building or that in material existence.
God is not telling David that there will never be a "place" to worship. God is telling David that it's just not so important that he has to build it now. In fact, it will be David's son who will build it someday, Solomon. In many ways, God's house is wherever the people of God are. Families that move around a lot know that "home" is wherever they are, not the particular houses in which they have lived through the years. God's house is wherever the poor are being fed, the downtrodden are being lifted up, and wherever justice is being done.
There's more, and this is the surprising part of the story. God doesn't just turn down David's offer. God gives David an even greater one. "I will build a house for you." What's cool about this is that there is a play on words here. The Hebrew word for "house" -- beth or bayit -- has multiple meanings. It can mean a simple dwelling, a physical structure in which a family lives. It can mean a palace or a temple. But, it can also refer to a tribal group and even a dynasty. It's this latter meaning that God has in mind when God promises to build a house for David. I wonder if David actually got the amazing offer God was laying before him.
So often we go to God with an idea -- something that will be good for the community and perhaps even for us. It's a prayer, a wish. And without any hesitation, God says, "No." At first we are disappointed thinking that God must not love us. Then, if we listen carefully we will see that God has something even greater in mind. As Luther once noted, "We pray for silver when all along God wants to give us gold." That's what happens for David. God says, "I will make you a great name among the great ones of the earth. I will assign a place for my people Israel; there I will plant them and they shall dwell in their own land ... I will give you peace from all your enemies. The Lord has told you that he would build up your royal house." There, that's it -- the "royal house." This is the House of David that will be forever. Now, isn't that better than a little old temple, especially one that will get sacked during the Babylonian exile? David can't see that far ahead, but has enough sense that he's getting gold when all he asked for was silver.
There's one final point. God mentions how David's son will build the house for the Lord. I think there's something hidden here. God is not just referring to Solomon who will build the temple. God is foreshadowing David's greater son, the one we Christians call the Christ, the one who is of "the house and lineage of David." He will be the fulfillment of God's promise to David.
So, you see, finding and building the right house for the Lord is not as easy as we might have originally thought. Why? Because we aren't the ones doing the building. God is the chief builder all along. But who is really surprised to hear that? Amen.

