I can’t help wondering what it was like. To be in that
stable. To be an exhausted teenage girl struggling through the terrors of
giving birth, an equally terrified man at your side, and then suddenly to hold
him, to look down at God in your arms.
What glory must have filled that place? What would it be
like to be the first one to hold him, to be so proud and awed and humbled and
frightened all at once?
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).
That phrase, “dwelt among us,” literally means he “pitched
his tent.” He pitched his tent among us. Why would God use this picture?
I’ve been thinking about the Hebrew slaves, newly released
from captivity. They were free, but they were not yet home. And God knew they
had a long way to go to get there. He knew they faced years of wandering in the
wilderness. They would face enemies and giants and hunger and weariness and
despair. They would fall and fail and fall again.
But they would also see miracles and beauty and joy, and
they would throw some really great parties. Because God was with them. He had
pitched the tent of his presence right there in their midst. “Let them make me
a sanctuary, that I may dwell in their midst” (Ex. 25:8). He set up his tent
and came into it, and it was full of his glory (Ex. 40:34).
Why didn’t God come to
a palace or a mansion? We asked our students. Who is welcome there? “Only the best people,” a girl whispered.
Only the worthiest could pluck up the nerve to walk to the
door of God’s mansion and feel welcome. And none of us are worthy.
That’s why he comes to us. God, he wants to dwell in our
midst. He pitches his tent right there next to yours and says, “I’m with you.
I’m here.” He knows we could never walk up to the door of his house, so he
comes to ours. He becomes a baby so we can hold him. He grows up among us so we
can know him.
Times got tough for Moses and he got pretty frustrated. He
asked God, “Are you with us, or not?” And God replied, “My presence will go
with you, and I will give you rest” (Ex. 33:14).
Sounds a lot like a man who told us, “Come to me, all who
are burdened and heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Mt. 11:28).
When God is with us, he brings light and life. He brings
hope. We can come to him because he came to us. He knows we have a wilderness
to wander through before we are home. He knows there are giants to face. But he
also knows there is a Promised Land that is just beyond, and when we get there,
all this suffering will find its shape and these earthly tents will fall away
to reveal the glory he has purposed all along. That’s why we can expect
miracles and look for joy and throw some really great parties.
You are free. But you are not yet home. But in the meantime,
here he is. He’s pitched his tent in your yard, and he’s inviting you in to
rest.
