Where The Lord Dwells
Sermon
THE WAY OF THE KING
Sermons For Pentecost (First Third)
Life had settled down for David. The battles, the struggles, the rushing from one end of his land to another, trouble wherever he looked, these were all behind him, at least for the present. For, "the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies around him." (2 Samuel 7:1)
In his unaccustomed leisure, David had time to build himself a house. A grand house. A house made of cedar. A house fit for a king. Then David, still having time on his hands, had
a brilliant idea: he would build a house for God. "See now, I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent," he said. (2 Samuel 7:2)
When David shared his brilliant idea with Nathan the prophet, Nathan liked what he heard: "Go to it - God would love a house." And maybe it should not surprise us that Nathan, having spoken for the Lord all these years, would assume that he knew what the Lord would like, even though, on this occasion, Nathan forgot to ask. So that night God came to the prophet in a dream saying: "Hold on there, Nathan, who told you what I would like and what I would not like? What makes you think I want a house?"
And then Nathan and God initiated a theological discussion which has lasted from that day to this, and which is as important to us as it was to Nathan and David so long ago. The question which has been under discussion for 3,000 years is this: Where does God live?
The way Nathan and David put the question in their day was: Now that we have settled down, isn't it time for God to settle down with us?
Settled-down-God or God-on-the-move? There are some important differences. A settled-down-God is an available God, a God predictably present and available whenever David and Nathan need God (or whenever you and I need God, for that matter). God-on-the-move, on the other hand, can stop by and make demands on us at the most inconvenient times, and then can seem to be off somewhere else when we need God most. How convenient it would be to have God tucked away in God's own house, knowing we can always go knock on the door whenever we need God's help. And the rest of the time ... well, the rest of the time the door can stay conveniently shut. Nathan and David thought it sounded like a good idea, and so do we.
Oh - we don't talk about God living in a house or a tent. We're 3,000 years more sophisticated than Nathan and David. We know God is a spirit, and God's spirit can't be confined to any house we might build. But we still question the availability of God to us, and in some ways we're not so different from Nathan and David.
As they do to any pastor, people often ask me where God is. I've had this discussion with some of you who are here this morning. The times when we have this discussion are usually hard times, painful times, stressful times. We have this discussion in times of doubt, depression and despair. "Where is God?" becomes a very important question in such anguished times, because "Where is God?" usually means "Why isn't God here? And if God is here as you say, why doesn't God stop these terrible things from happening to me?"
We can't help feeling that a settled-down-God would be there in powerful ways when we need God, and leave us alone the rest of the time. A settled-down-God could be turned off and on like an electric light bulb: useful to get us through the dark times - comforting to know that it is sitting there unused, but held in reserve, through the bright times. But God is more like lightning than a light bulb, exploding into our lives in unexpected, unpredictable ways, as Nathan discovered, to his dismay.
God told Nathan to go tell David that God had no desire for a house. God told Nathan to say three things to David, three things which speak to our questions as well. First, God said, "I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about ... among all the people." Our God is a God-on-the-move; God constantly moving around among all the people. And a God-on-the-move can come into our lives in the most unexpected, unpredictable and, yes, inconvenient ways. God can take times of triumph, success and achievement and, just when we have attained our goals, allow us to see how hollow and meaningless they are. On the other hand. God can take our failure, our pain and disappointment and help us grow and prosper even in loss. Not all the time, in either case, for God is not that predictable. God can also exult with us in success, and mourn with us in sorrow. The only sure and certain thing is that God is on the move.
Which brings me to the second thing God had Nathan tell David: "Thus says the Lord of hosts: I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep to be prince over my people Israel; and I have been with you wherever you went." God reminded David that David had once again become forgetful. No house could ever make God more present with David than God had always been. "I have been with you wherever you went," ... whether you feel like I'm with you or not, I am.
I suppose for me (in those conversations I mentioned a few moments ago), in spite of all my doubts, in spite of all my moments of disappointment, in spite of all those times in my life when God has seemed very far away indeed, I always come back to this: the most basic, rock-solid, in-spite-of-it-all foundation of my faith and my belief is that God is with us, wherever we go. When we have trouble feeling that God is there, or are wondering just what God is doing, the problem is not that God is absent from our lives. The problem is with our perceptions and our expectations of what the presence of God in our lives will be like. For we can be as forgetful as David.
"I move about among all the people."
"I have been with you wherever you went."
Then God told Nathan to say this third thing: "The Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house." David wanted to build a house for God, but God turned David's desire around and said, "No - you can't build a house for me, but I'm going to give you a house - the only kind of house anyone really needs."
Then, in a play on the word, God gave David a "house:" his children, family, descendants; and, by extension, his tribe, nation, the people of Israel, the whole people of God. The faithful people of God are the house of David. The faithful people of God are the only real house of the Lord. Where does God dwell? In the people of God. How is God present in our lives? In the people of God.
If you need to be reminded about how God has been with you, just think of the people who have touched you, helped you, lifted you, carried you, listened to you, strengthened you, loved you. They are the presence of God to you.
When I have one of those anguished conversations, and I am asked "where" God is, I find it almost inevitable that sometime later in our talk I will hear about special people who "helped out" or "helped me get through." That is where God is: in people who help and people who care.
I have seen God.
I have seen God in a nursing home, in a husband sitting by his wife's bed, holding her hand.
I have seen God in a mother comforting a crying child.
I have seen God in a wife, patiently guiding her husband, whose mind has been stolen by Alzheimer's disease.
I have seen God in the people of a city congregation whose church was burned down by an arsonist, people who will not be driven out of their neighborhood or give up ministry to their city.
I have seen God in an emergency room nurse, crying with parents whose child has died.
I have seen God in teenagers on a work trip - clearing a lot and building a house.
I have seen God in a soup kitchen, serving a plate of food to a hungry person.
I have seen God and so have you.
Nathan and David finally came to understand that God would not live in a house of cedar, nor would God be available when they chose to visit. Rather, God-on-the-move was always with them and always had been. The only house our God chooses to dwell in is the people of God. God will always be present in God's faithful people, for this is where the Lord dwells, now and forever.
O Lord, forgive us when we forget that "unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord guards the city, those who guard it keep watch in vain." We are all your creation. Dwell, O Lord, with us, that we might dwell forever with you. Live, O Lord, in us, that we might live forever for you. May we be your dwelling place throughout all generations. In the name of Jesus our savior. Amen.
In his unaccustomed leisure, David had time to build himself a house. A grand house. A house made of cedar. A house fit for a king. Then David, still having time on his hands, had
a brilliant idea: he would build a house for God. "See now, I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent," he said. (2 Samuel 7:2)
When David shared his brilliant idea with Nathan the prophet, Nathan liked what he heard: "Go to it - God would love a house." And maybe it should not surprise us that Nathan, having spoken for the Lord all these years, would assume that he knew what the Lord would like, even though, on this occasion, Nathan forgot to ask. So that night God came to the prophet in a dream saying: "Hold on there, Nathan, who told you what I would like and what I would not like? What makes you think I want a house?"
And then Nathan and God initiated a theological discussion which has lasted from that day to this, and which is as important to us as it was to Nathan and David so long ago. The question which has been under discussion for 3,000 years is this: Where does God live?
The way Nathan and David put the question in their day was: Now that we have settled down, isn't it time for God to settle down with us?
Settled-down-God or God-on-the-move? There are some important differences. A settled-down-God is an available God, a God predictably present and available whenever David and Nathan need God (or whenever you and I need God, for that matter). God-on-the-move, on the other hand, can stop by and make demands on us at the most inconvenient times, and then can seem to be off somewhere else when we need God most. How convenient it would be to have God tucked away in God's own house, knowing we can always go knock on the door whenever we need God's help. And the rest of the time ... well, the rest of the time the door can stay conveniently shut. Nathan and David thought it sounded like a good idea, and so do we.
Oh - we don't talk about God living in a house or a tent. We're 3,000 years more sophisticated than Nathan and David. We know God is a spirit, and God's spirit can't be confined to any house we might build. But we still question the availability of God to us, and in some ways we're not so different from Nathan and David.
As they do to any pastor, people often ask me where God is. I've had this discussion with some of you who are here this morning. The times when we have this discussion are usually hard times, painful times, stressful times. We have this discussion in times of doubt, depression and despair. "Where is God?" becomes a very important question in such anguished times, because "Where is God?" usually means "Why isn't God here? And if God is here as you say, why doesn't God stop these terrible things from happening to me?"
We can't help feeling that a settled-down-God would be there in powerful ways when we need God, and leave us alone the rest of the time. A settled-down-God could be turned off and on like an electric light bulb: useful to get us through the dark times - comforting to know that it is sitting there unused, but held in reserve, through the bright times. But God is more like lightning than a light bulb, exploding into our lives in unexpected, unpredictable ways, as Nathan discovered, to his dismay.
God told Nathan to go tell David that God had no desire for a house. God told Nathan to say three things to David, three things which speak to our questions as well. First, God said, "I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about ... among all the people." Our God is a God-on-the-move; God constantly moving around among all the people. And a God-on-the-move can come into our lives in the most unexpected, unpredictable and, yes, inconvenient ways. God can take times of triumph, success and achievement and, just when we have attained our goals, allow us to see how hollow and meaningless they are. On the other hand. God can take our failure, our pain and disappointment and help us grow and prosper even in loss. Not all the time, in either case, for God is not that predictable. God can also exult with us in success, and mourn with us in sorrow. The only sure and certain thing is that God is on the move.
Which brings me to the second thing God had Nathan tell David: "Thus says the Lord of hosts: I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep to be prince over my people Israel; and I have been with you wherever you went." God reminded David that David had once again become forgetful. No house could ever make God more present with David than God had always been. "I have been with you wherever you went," ... whether you feel like I'm with you or not, I am.
I suppose for me (in those conversations I mentioned a few moments ago), in spite of all my doubts, in spite of all my moments of disappointment, in spite of all those times in my life when God has seemed very far away indeed, I always come back to this: the most basic, rock-solid, in-spite-of-it-all foundation of my faith and my belief is that God is with us, wherever we go. When we have trouble feeling that God is there, or are wondering just what God is doing, the problem is not that God is absent from our lives. The problem is with our perceptions and our expectations of what the presence of God in our lives will be like. For we can be as forgetful as David.
"I move about among all the people."
"I have been with you wherever you went."
Then God told Nathan to say this third thing: "The Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house." David wanted to build a house for God, but God turned David's desire around and said, "No - you can't build a house for me, but I'm going to give you a house - the only kind of house anyone really needs."
Then, in a play on the word, God gave David a "house:" his children, family, descendants; and, by extension, his tribe, nation, the people of Israel, the whole people of God. The faithful people of God are the house of David. The faithful people of God are the only real house of the Lord. Where does God dwell? In the people of God. How is God present in our lives? In the people of God.
If you need to be reminded about how God has been with you, just think of the people who have touched you, helped you, lifted you, carried you, listened to you, strengthened you, loved you. They are the presence of God to you.
When I have one of those anguished conversations, and I am asked "where" God is, I find it almost inevitable that sometime later in our talk I will hear about special people who "helped out" or "helped me get through." That is where God is: in people who help and people who care.
I have seen God.
I have seen God in a nursing home, in a husband sitting by his wife's bed, holding her hand.
I have seen God in a mother comforting a crying child.
I have seen God in a wife, patiently guiding her husband, whose mind has been stolen by Alzheimer's disease.
I have seen God in the people of a city congregation whose church was burned down by an arsonist, people who will not be driven out of their neighborhood or give up ministry to their city.
I have seen God in an emergency room nurse, crying with parents whose child has died.
I have seen God in teenagers on a work trip - clearing a lot and building a house.
I have seen God in a soup kitchen, serving a plate of food to a hungry person.
I have seen God and so have you.
Nathan and David finally came to understand that God would not live in a house of cedar, nor would God be available when they chose to visit. Rather, God-on-the-move was always with them and always had been. The only house our God chooses to dwell in is the people of God. God will always be present in God's faithful people, for this is where the Lord dwells, now and forever.
O Lord, forgive us when we forget that "unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord guards the city, those who guard it keep watch in vain." We are all your creation. Dwell, O Lord, with us, that we might dwell forever with you. Live, O Lord, in us, that we might live forever for you. May we be your dwelling place throughout all generations. In the name of Jesus our savior. Amen.
