The God Virus

Stay with me here.

As I understand it, God walked, in glory, with man and woman in the Garden. As sin came in, so did the separation of the holy from the unholy. So God's tangible presence was separated from mankind's existence. Through history, however, God continued to exploit ways in which his holy presence might be able (without breaking his own character traits of holiness and humility) to dwell once again among men.

Whether it was appearing to Moses, guiding the Israelite ex-slaves by fire and cloud, by dwelling in the consecrated temple, or any number of ways in which God physically drew near to us, God, throughout our history, has seemed a tad obsessed about not only being our God, but about engaging our muddy little selves. In fact, the muddier and more lowly we are, the closer he draws to us.

But the problem is that our sin is persistent. We drive the Living God away, not through strength or will, but because His holiness will not tolerate our sin, while His humility and love is slow to destroy us for that sin. To put it another way, God has three physical options in dealing with our sin: to draw close and disregard evil, to crush the evil out of us and purify us through destruction, or to withdraw.

So, when we cling to sin and don't repent, God, in His mercy, withdraws his physical presence.

This is what happened at some point before the destruction of the 2nd Temple by the Romans. I believe (correct me if I'm wrong) that both Jews and Christians acknowledge that God must have abandoned the temple as His dwelling place at some point before the Romans laid a hand upon it (for had he remained, the destroyers would most certainly have been destroyed, yes?) The dispute is when God's glory departed. Honestly, I don't know my history well enough to know when Jews believe the glory departed (presumably sometime after the death of Jesus of Nazareth, as I believe - again, could be totally wrong here - that Christians and Jews are in agreement that the glory was present up through the life of Jesus.)

But the fact is that the glory did depart, and sometime after that, the temple came down, and God's chosen people were scattered throughout the earth for a time.

So, God, in our history, has, in humility and love, drawn close, and then, in holiness, withdrawn when our sin was not atoned for. No building could house him, because we would desecrate it. We could meet in no garden, because our sin would drive us from it. Even a flooded earth and a righteous man and his family were not immune to our power to stain any and all meet-points for God.

I wonder if that is why He decided to infect us with His virus? Instead of abandoning us to our devices, or forgetting the Jew, God took a very strange route indeed.

He made it possible for our very selves to be consecrated as a dwelling place of God.

Spilled Paint Buckets

This weekend, I stained the wood frame of a new window we had to install after the old one rotted away. I liked to think of the old one as a magic window, slowly revealing the world outside as it really was, until I realized what the window really was: a deluxe home-value depreciator.

Anyway, as I stained, I came to a very profound realization:

I would never try to paint a room with the help of my pre-school children.

We might survive the first thirty seconds after careful instruction, but pretty soon...

sploosh.

In a vain effort to unsploosh, I'd probably kneel down, fondue-ing my pantleg in Inland Green. Kid 2 would be in stagger-back mode, tottering toward the freshly painted wall.

splat.

Now, tears. More motion, more stains, travelling stains, stains that will ruin my whole house if I don't implement some drastic and immediate lockdowns of now screaming children who had only moments before joyfully joined me in a home improvement project.

I'm smarter than that. I'd never, ever do that.

Even if I did, I sure wouldn't invite all the pre-schoolers in the neighborhood over for a clean-up party.

I realized another thing: my Father will never take parenting tips from me.

When Abraham was called out and told he would be blessed with descendants, God invited him, and all Abraham's descendants, to a painting party.

"Abraham - look! All this land is going to be the possession of your children. What say we get to work on it? I'll start by giving you a son in your old age and blessing him."

"Okay, Lord. I'm happy to help you! Let me just find my spare servant wife. My regular one is, according to her, past her prime."

Sploosh.


Ishmael is born. Because God promised to bless Abraham through his son, nations would arise that would eventually present great conflict for the descendants of Isaac. The paint bucket of God was freely placed in the unsteady, childish hands of Sarah's doubt, of Abraham's panic. That paint would run down through generations, and at least according to a great deal of modern tradition, would even stain today's political landscape.

The examples are numerous: Jacob swiping Esau's birthright (and Esau begging for a blessing anyway), Moses begging God not to wipe out the worshippers of Baal (until, of course, when he descended from the mountain and witnessed the sin with his own eyes. Then he went bloodcrazy,) Jonah dodging Ninevah, all the negotiations of the Hebrews wandering in the desert, and so on.

Sploosh. Sploosh. Sploosh-a-ty sploosh.

Tears. Motion. Stains. Travelling stains.

Yet God looks on the havoc His children wreak and loves them enough to devise a way for them to be washed clean, to be presentable before Him.

His method involves stains, too: bloodstains.

As if I needed reminder, I am not like God in this way. Perhaps it is because, despite my protests, I still prefer my rooms like my tombs: whitewashed.