My wife and I have very different definitions of “camping.” Growing up in New Mexico, camping meant backpacking into the mountains and living for several days in a tent off what we brought in with us. Good times. My wife likes a different kind of camping, in which she “roughs it” in an RV with mattresses and sheets, indoor plumbing and air conditioning. But one thing we both love about camping (whatever the definition) is how much we enjoy feeling small.
Sound odd, doesn’t it – to enjoy feeling small? But it’s something I can’t seem to do in a normal day. I need to get away from the lights and noise of the city. I go camping and look up at the stars and I get lost in awe at the expanse of space, stars, planets, gas and rocks. Around a campfire, looking up at the sky I’m reminded that I’m a speck in the universe.
David was a shepherd, used to spending nights out on hillsides watching sheep. Apparently he had a similar experience. In Psalm 8, he wrote:
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
— Psalm 8:3-4
It’s this same sense of wonder that I get when I think of the Tabernacle. Think for just a minute what the Tabernacle represents: God – the same all-powerful and timeless God who created everything, who spoke the immensity of the universe into being – decided to enter time and dwell in a tent among a wandering band of former slaves, who He’d claimed as His own. Why would an infinite God do this?
Let that question percolate in your mind. This story should sound a little familiar, after all. As Clay explained Sunday when he covered Exodus 25-40, that Tabernacle – God’s dwelling place among His chosen nation – was a symbol, a story told through symbols, colors, materials and artistry. And 1,500 years later, the symbols would be made explicit.
In Nazareth, there’s a beautiful church with some large Latin words carved into the front wall:
VERBUM CARO FACTUM EST.
These words represent a sharp turn in the history of the universe. The words come from John 1:14 “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…”
What if God had not made the shocking decision to enter space and time and dwell with His creation? He didn’t have to, after all. He didn’t create out of any need for companionship and He doesn’t need our worship or service to fill any void in His life. But He did come and dwell among us. He did decide to live among those who would be His own – and that choice altered history forever.
As 2011 careens headlong towards Christmas, things will no doubt get even busier, even more stressful, and more than once, you’ll probably reach the end of your resources and feel pretty small (and not in a good way). You may be surrounded by people and feel utterly alone. If you’re already there, then learn this lesson from the Tabernacle: even in our smallness, in our weak and fallen state… you are not alone. God became part of the story, the Director stepped onto the stage and dwelt among us – because He wanted you and me to know Him.
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