“There’s nothing magical about these steps. But we can come up here and take the humble posture of prayer by kneeling.”
I got into the habit during the invitation component of my sermons of saying something like this. I point to the altar in our sanctuary and downplay its significance. The posture of prayer is significant, but not the carpeted steps leading up to our stage. There’s nothing significant about them, in terms of holiness.
We are living in unprecedented times. Unprecedented times that are affecting the way that we gather together as the church.
I do not envy one bit those who have had to prayerfully make decisions for the coming weeks for their churches.
I don’t know what the right answer is.
Our church leadership has chosen to gather together over the radio or over livestreaming as opposed to in person. We believe this is what is best for the time being.
So right now, our sanctuary will be empty for the foreseeable future.
There has been a proliferation of posts that fit the following mantra: “the church isn’t the building. we are.”
And as much as this language makes me cringe a tiny bit, it’s true.
But I want to talk about it from a slightly different perspective.
I want to talk about where God dwells.
God doesn’t dwell in the sanctuary at First Baptist Church of Vernon, Texas. He dwells with His people. Somewhere along the way (and I’ve studied zero minutes about this) we began to believe that God dwelled in a building like the temple that Solomon built for Him. So we started making sanctuaries these holy places where God dwelled with man. And yet God doesn’t dwell there.
He dwells in us.
I’ve been studying the book of Ephesians (my last two blogs have been out of this marvelous book of the Bible) and I’m reminded again and again that the message of the entire scope of Scripture is not God coming to dwell in a building, but rather God coming to dwell with a people.
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. - Ephesians 2:19-22
I mean, come on y’all.
The second chapter of Ephesians details the amazing work of God in the gospel of Jesus Christ. It tells us how utterly broken we were in our sin, in the kingdom of darkness. Then we see the work of God. We see how we were SAVED BY GRACE THROUGH FAITH. The implications of this wonderful news continues on into this passage.
We are fellow citizens with one another.
We are saints and fellow members of the family of God.
Even those who go to other churches in town.
The implications and applications of that reality alone is far-reaching.
But look at the conclusion. We have been brought together, built up into a dwelling place for the Lord.
Let that sink in.
It’s always been about the people.
In Genesis, we see the framework of this, as God promises to bless all the nations through the line of Abraham.
In Revelation, we see the culmination of this, as every tribe and tongue and nation bows before King Jesus.
All throughout the way, in tabernacles, temples, and Jesus, God has dwelled with His people. Paul tells explicitly in Acts 17 that God doesn’t dwell in buildings made by human hands.
So what does that mean for today?
It means that maybe, just maybe, we come to know this truth of Scripture like never before.
Maybe, just maybe, we will remember that we have always been called to primarily live in the world, not in judgment, but in hopes of bringing the good news of the gospel to bear on the lives of our friends neighbors (just read 1 Corinthians 5, 8, and 9).
Maybe, just maybe, we can live out the fruit of the Spirit’s work in our lives (joy and kindness) when we interact with others (Had to repent just today for some judgmental responses to others. This isn’t easy).
Maybe, just maybe, families will wake up and realize that the job of the church is to merely supplement their discipleship practices at home, not the other way around.
Yes, church community is going to look different for a while. I absolutely dread how awkward it is going to be for me to teach to an empty room this Sunday. But the community has never been about the building in the first place.
Y’all. This gets me pumped. When my church family gathers on Sunday mornings, it should be an opportunity to celebrate what God is doing in our community as well as to remind ourselves of the task ahead.
We should be doing far more outside the walls of our sanctuaries than we do in them. More people should be encountering Jesus outside than inside. We should be studying Scripture together far more outside than inside. We should be singing praise to God far more outside than inside.
God has chosen us as His people to dwell with. Every single believer who follows Jesus as Lord is part of this.
The sanctuary may be empty, but His presence is in us.
In His Name,