The great God of the universe Who flung the stars from His fingertips, spoke the worlds into existence, and breathed life into all that moves and grows, is building Himself a house. It is a house of surpassing magnificence; a house to cause the grandest of manses to skulk away in shame. This house is a house of gold, pearl and precious living stones, where Living Water dances and the Tree of Life grows, bearing fruit on every branch.
But the House of YHWH is more than that. In the olden days, a great family, let’s say the Tudors, might be referred to as the House of Tudor. So this house that the Father is building is not only a dwelling place in the sense of being constructed with walls and windows and rooms and roofs, but also in the sense of being a family; God’s offspring. The House of YHWH is led by the Father’s Firstborn Son, Jesus the Messiah.
God is building His house, and has been for ever so long. As anyone knows who has watched the building of a magnificent house, the site during the building process resembles nothing so much as a colossal mess. There are piles of dirt, house wrap stapled on, bits of left-over timber and wall board piled up here and there, pipes and wires and boxes of stuff. The land around the house is pocked and rutted and barren of anything lovely. Big dented, scratched trucks and machinery dwell here, and it’s hard to imagine that one day a marvelous construction will emerge from the ugly skeleton, and that it will be surrounded by green lawns and manicured shrubbery, flowering trees and plants, and stone paths that lead to wrought-iron gateways into secret garden sanctuaries.
There will be windows and balconies and outside stairs; porches and porticoes, shaded benches and garden lights, and the smell of grilling steaks mingled with laughter and words and the lilt of music. This mess will one day be a great house, the home of a great family. But it will be literally AGES in the construction. You don’t build a house like this in a couple of months. You don’t call the builder in November, hoping to have it ready to spend Christmas in. (Well, people do, actually — but that doesn’t typically work out for them.)
The Father, however counted the cost and tallied up the centuries. The Son offered Himself as the Lamb, slain from the foundation of the earth, and as the Spirit brooded over the deep, He knew what He was about to commit His power to. The price of this house came as no surprise to the the Elohim. The crucifixion wasn’t plan B. It was always in the blueprints.The Community of the Godhead covenanted together to build this house and to pay the price, though terrible, to make it their own.
God is building a house for Himself, and that house is made of the stuff He put in the Garden; gold, pearl and precious, living stones. There’s the river of Living Water and the Tree of Life. And more than anything, there are His sons and daughters, the first of whom are Adam and Eve. We see this home completed in Revelation 21 – 22; a glorious city, built of those very same materials, and filled with His beloved children; the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, the first fruits of the children of men. From the midst of the city, where His throne is, flows the River of Life, and on each side grows the Tree of Life, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.
This city; this garden home; is the culmination of all those millenia of pain and frustration, all the heartache and mess and blood and tears through history. This is what the march of years has led us to. The Garden of God became the Tabernacle of David, then the Temple of Solomon; the city of Jerusalem, the nation of Israel, the gathering of the saints, the adoption of the sons and daughters of God, and with their adoption, the restoration of all creation in their wake. All this to build the House of YHWH. It has cost Him dearly. For these people, through whom He is expressed and in whom He dwells, He has bled and wept and died and risen; fought and rescued and chastened and now at last, He has matured them into the image of His Firstborn Son . . . whose own desires will be the subject of my next post.