Monday, October 24, 2011

The Temple

Imagine with me...

You walk along the country side, and smell the air.  Like after a good rain.  You look around you, catching in the scenes around you.  Sandy soil slips into your sandals, and a very slight breeze moves your hair.  The vibrantly green slopes around you rise and fall within the scattered trees, and you notice there are little houses around you.  The kind you might see at a the edge of an colonial New-English town.  Two story, though not large, with many long windows and ornate, weathered trim.  As you approach one with an apparently fresh coat of white paint, you notice that some of the clean lacy curtains are pulled to the side.  The creaky, winding porch is already peeling a bit under the warm sun.
You climb the steps, holding onto the newly sanded railing, and stand facing the door.  A "Sold" sign is written in red ink, and nailed to the frame.  The handle does not have a lock, but the brass knocker above it seemed worn and smooth from use.  First you pear in the window.  It is a beautiful house, and seems to be under some remodeling construction.  Most of the furniture has been removed, and replaced with beautiful instruments, book shelves, a grand clock, and two cushioned seats.  You can see the places where old picture frames were ripped from the wall, and new creations light up the small parlor viewed through the glass pains of the door.
Next you move to the window on your left, and the scene of a cheerful kitchen is brought to bare.  The cupboards were in the process of being filled, for old, rotting potatoes were gathered in garbage bags, and the cleaned counters were covered with a gorgeous array of breads, spices, 9 baskets of fruit, and as you lean into the window to see what else you can spy, the latch slips from it's hook, and the glass shutters creak inward.  The aroma slipping through is so scrumptious and satisfying, you wonder how anyone could live on the stale crusts and mildewing vegetation swept to the corners and bagged for their delivery out.  So temped by the food, you reach out your hand into the well-lit room and tear a corner off a loaf on the edge of the table.  It is warm and fresh and soft and hardy, and lets off a bit of steam as you hold it to your lips.  It warms your whole body and invigorates your very soul.  How could these things not be shared with the world?!  And as you watch, the bit broken off the golden bread grows in to replace it's self, just as fresh and lovely as before.  You want to see more of this place, so well-stocked with good things.
Running around the corner of the house, another window catches your eye.  This is a bedroom.  A mural of a pure heart is painted on the wall, washing over the grapheety that has been stripped off.  A single bed sits in the corner, dressed in crisp white sheets, and a white canopy, with fluffy white pillows and coverlet arranged artistically.  However, there is a dark curtain over the wardrobe door.  Every once in a while it's flaps move and a smoke-like wisp travels out, leaving a growing residue on the floor.
  With so much to know and discover, you venture to open the window.  It is locked.  Going 'round again to the door, you turn the knob and venture in.  Instead of going into the kitchen to your right, you go left, and and it reveals a writing room.  A sword hangs glistening over the desk, nearly alive as you look into it's valiance, and flowing scrolls spill onto the shining floor.  A pair of spectacles unlike any you've ever seen rests atop a crimson stand, with a large book, worn from study, and beautiful beyond description.  As you draw near, a tingling feeling creeps into your bones, and you can almost imagine a sonnet coming deep from within it's pages.  It's ancient knowledges come from beyond any mortality, and go deeper than created measurements.
  Back into the parlor, another door leads to the back of the house.  This door frame is simple, but draped with a bright red robe, like a curtain.  There is no other door, and one must enter through this only.  You only peek, but the sight is breathtaking.  A simple wooden cross, though gnarled and stained with blood, shines in the center, on its stand.  But the holy scene goes dark, as a closet door opens, and the house's resident enters.  She is dressed in robes of white, and wears a crown on her head, but it slips to the floor, as she traids her garments for rags.  She lays her hands on the cross, and removes it to the corner.  The alter lays bare.  Though the girl is weakened, she drags an image from the folds of her humble attire, and places on the stand an idol... an idol made in her own image.   The cross mourns, and the house is engulfed in a painful sorrow.  She is also pained, but is too enamored with the work of her hands.
  If only to go into the parlor, and sit with her true love; to go into her kitchen, and feast on life; to pour over the Holy Book, so active and living; to praise the maker of her purity, and throw open her wardrobe to be washed again by the Light.
She disregarded the owner's deed, and the temple was disgraced and grieved.  Is there yet hope? 
There is!

This house is a soul.
This story is a picture.

A picture of the Christian who has been bought out of slavery by Christ's atoning blood, but sets their selfish desires above that of God's perfect will.  We are given the Holy Spirit to dwell inside of us, to seal us for heaven, and to guide and teach us in God's love and His ways.  When one of God's children disobey Him, it brings sorrow to His heart.  Remember these verses, and give your heart back to Him.

Ephesians 4:30
And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.

1 Corinthians 6:19-20
Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.

Exodus 20: 2-4
“I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.
“You shall have no other gods before me.
“You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below.

No comments: