Resident

Nothing was in the ark except the two tablets of stone which Moses put there at Horeb, when the Lord made a covenant with the children of Israel, when they came out of the land of Egypt.

10 And it came to pass, when the priests came out of the holy place, that the cloud filled the house of the Lord, 11 so that the priests could not continue ministering because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.

– 1 Kings 8: 9-11

Cracking the Bible open to where I last left off days, maybe weeks ago, I read.  I read and read and read and read.  Then I came to verse 11 of chapter 8 of 1 Kings:

so that the priests could not continue ministering because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.”

and I could read no more.  I had read and read and read and I could go no further.

“for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.”

So much so that the priests, who were called to minister, could not minister.  So much so that the priests, who were called to serve, could not serve.  So much so that the priests, who were called to worship on behalf of Israel, could not worship- at least physically.  Everything stopped.  Froze.  Everything fell to the ground useless, futile, empty.  The King had arrived.  He’d come in full attire, glory, presence.  Nothing lacked.  Rather, he filled.  He overflowed.  They could not carry on.  How could they when the one, the One, entered the building, stepped on the premises?  Overpowering senses, logic, religion, the breath of El-Shaddai blew from within and gently reminded his people who he was and is.

Mm.

There’s more, though.

“…for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.” clung stubbornly to me.  Something about it drew me in.  My eyes ran over it again and again and again.  And again.  His glory filled his house.  It’s just him.  All him.  Only him.  The tabernacle, ark, altars were empty and meaningless at this point.  Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else matters.  The truth is, he’s here.  Glory is here.  We are the house.  I am the house.  He is here.  “… the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.”  We are filled by him.  Permeating with his presence.  Saturated in his goodness.  How can I go on?  How can I go on trying to live for him, trying to serve him, love him, worship him, praise him?  What can I do but fall on my knees looking straight into his face and know him?  What else is left to do?

So that is what I do.  I dwell, revel, drink deeply.  And what flows into my heart overflows into the world.

The King is home.

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I'm here to be me because I think I'm pretty cool. Walk with me as I explore myself, the world, and everything in between. I also curse a lot.

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