“Don’t you know your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you?”
- 1 Corinthians 6:19
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Create in me room enough, somehow, for Your gargantuan grace…
Or at least enough room for a little furniture…
A crooked lampstand. A wobbly table. A small altar.
And hey, I’ve got some art we could hang…
A faded picture of a Garden. Palm trees. Angelic things…
Or create in me just enough space, perhaps, for a thimbleful of Your grace…
Crack open in me enough room for a small breadcrumb of Your mercy…
You… Boundless as space. Nearer than breath. Make room in me for You…
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When I was young I wondered how a King like You could fit inside a tiny thing like me…
Silly, right? But, God… I’m still wondering…
And now that You’re here, of all places… How’s it going in there? Are You cozy, Lord?
I’m sorry for the draft - my anger opened a window some time back and I still don’t know how to close it…
I’m sorry for the noise - I know, I know - I play my opinions loud so that I’ll feel significant…
Oh, and I’m sorry for the smell - I think my innocence crawled under the bed a while ago and died…
And I’m sorry for the clutter - but by the time I noticed the mess I’d kind of stopped caring…
I’m sorry, Lord… I’m sorry for it all…
… Still cozy, Lord?
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You know… sometimes I catch you cleaning up my mess…
And, golly, Lord, You know you don’t have to do that…
No, really Lord… it’s so beneath you… And You’re my guest…
So, for real, Lord, stop it. You’re embarrassing me…
No, seriously, knock it off, Lord! I like my soul-room the way it is!
… I SAID STOP TOUCHING MY STUFF!
Your humility frustrates every fiber of my flesh…
Your meekness infuriates every inch of my ego…
You shall NEVER wash my feet, Lord…
… How could I EVER let You?
If You’re not cozy here, then maybe You should…
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But… please, don’t leave me… Lord…
Not now… Not now that you’re here… Not now that I know you…
Not now that there’s a fire in my hearth again…
Not now that the curtains have been drawn and the sun is shining in…
Not now that I can see the color in the rose garden…
Not now that there’s singing and laughter and dancing in my halls again…
Oh, God. I’ll bite my tongue…
Go on, rearrange the furniture…
Rearrange me. Renovate me…
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But please, Lord, go easy… be kind…
And, in the morning, we will sit in the sun…
Sit in the silence. Feel the hum. The sheer joy...
Then, in the evening, light the fire…
Talk while shadows flicker on our faces and the moon rises higher…
And my heart will find the words my pride would never say….
”Not just my feet, Lord… but my hands and my head too.”
Welcome home, High King of Heaven…
Though it’s humble, make it habitable.
And happy. And holy…
Oh, God… make it holy…
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Start the music…
Start the feast…
Stoke the fire…
Shake the house with sacred shouts of seraphim…
Stay, King of Heaven. Stay.
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“Every Christian is a sanctuary.” - AW Tozer
“He is going to make us into creatures that can contain His glory - living temples.” - C.S. Lewis, "Mere Christianity"
“Cleanse the inner man and you shall truly be the temple of God.” - Thomas à Kempis,
“You are the house of God. Not in symbol, not in imagination, but in actual fact. God is in you. You are the living temple of the living God.” - E. Stanley Jones