The Living Tabernacle
The Living Tabernacle by Rev. L. John Gable
December 19, 2021
Virgil, the old farmer, was not a regular attender at the small, country church his wife attended. With Christmas approaching, however, she persuaded him to attend the Pastor’s Bible study with her to meet the new, young preacher. The newly minted, just out of seminary, pastor started talking about all the details from the various Biblical accounts of Jesus’ birth, but there wasn’t much discussion or comment coming from the group (not a problem I face in our Pastor’s Bible study, I might add). Near the end of the hour, in an attempt to get some feedback, he turned to Virgil and asked him “Which account of Jesus’ birth do you like best?” “The one in the book of John”, mumbled Virgil. Wanting to correct, but not embarrass him, the young pastor paused then said, “But John doesn’t tell the Christmas story.” “Oh, yes he does.” replied Virgil, “He tells the condensed version: And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.” Well played, Virgil.
If you were with us last week you may recall we looked at the opening verses in John’s Gospel, in what is commonly called the Prologue, where he makes the radical claim, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” Here, in the verses we’ve read this morning, the verses Virgil knew by heart, John declares that the Word, the creative, life-giving Logos, which was from the very beginning, took on human flesh and lived among us, and then he even goes so far as to give that Word a name…Jesus!
This is the essential and radical claim of the Christian faith, that the Creator God, the Maker of heaven and earth, humbled Himself, took on flesh and came to us as a child, born of a woman, in a form that we could know and touch and understand. While the other writers open their Gospels by emphasizing His humanity (Luke of His birth, Matthew of His genealogy, Mark of the beginnings of His ministry), John tells instead of the mystery of both His divinity AND His humanity, of His being fully human and fully divine, of His transcendence and His immanence, of how in the birth of Jesus, God took on human flesh and made His dwelling among us. Some translators have made the point by saying in Jesus God “pitched His tent” with us, “moved in next door” (Clarence Jordan), “moved in our neighborhood”. The actual Greek word may best be translated that in the birth of Jesus God “tabernacled among us”. That translation should perk up our ears.
In our Old Testament lesson this morning we read about the tabernacle of God during the time of the Exodus. Whereas earlier John drew on the great tradition of the creation story from Genesis, here he includes the Mosaic tradition citing the presence of God in the very midst of His people during their 40 year sojourn through the wilderness. When the people set up camp, God’s tent was right in the center of it and God demonstrated His presence with His people through a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night hovering over the tent of meeting, called the tabernacle. As long as the cloud remained the people stayed in place, but when God picked up His tent and moved on, the people did the same with theirs. The tabernacle, temporary and portable as it was, was the visible manifestation of God’s dwelling with His people, a full display of His presence and glory.
The story of how our church’s name was changed from Third Presbyterian to Tabernacle is too long to tell now so we will save that for another day, but it does beg the question, “What of this massive structure of glass and steel and stone is temporary and portable?” I assure you it is both. It is temporary in that even this magnificent edifice will one day go the way of all things, and it is portable, not as a structure but as a people, as we too are intended to get up and go as the Spirit of God calls and leads us. The children of Israel knew to move when God moved, so is it any wonder that Jesus calls His disciples, then and now, by simply saying, “Follow Me.” Jesus was the living tabernacle, as are we now, the ones in whom the Spirit of God dwells, as we listen to His call and follow.
The very thought of God moving in our neighborhood, pitching His tent next to ours, could be both wonderful and terrifying, couldn’t it? The thought of having a chat over the back fence or sitting down over a cup of coffee with the Lord of the Universe, of being able to consult Him with that problem at work or ask Him to touch your aching shoulder, sounds great. But how would it change your life and your lifestyle? Your habits? Your language? Your friendships? What you read, what you watch, what you do? Having God that “up close and personal” sounds both inspiring and intimidating, doesn’t it? To be quite candid, it sounds simply awe-some to some and quite awe-ful to others. John is fully aware of that mixed response as he writes his Gospel. He describes both the triumph and the tragedy, the reception and the rejection of the God who came to us “in-carnis”, with flesh on His bones. He writes of the disappointment of rejection Jesus felt. “He was in the world, and the world came in to being through Him; yet the world did not know Him. He came to what was His own, to His own home, and His own people did not accept Him.” Imagine that, the Creator God made the decision to come to be with us, even more than that, to be like us, and we refused and rejected Him. He was “unwelcomed” in His own home by His own people; not just then, but now as well. Even in these opening verses of his Gospel John is foreshadowing how this story is going to play out. Not only was He not welcomed, He would also be rejected and executed by those who do not receive Him. Such is the darkness that tries to extinguish the light, but, as John assures, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it”, did not, does not, never will.
He also writes though of the reception Jesus received. “But, to all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave power to become children of God, who were born not of blood or the will of the flesh, or of the will of man, but of God.” This is the goal of the entire Gospel. This is the reason John is telling this Good News story about Jesus, so that we will receive Him and believe Him, so that we will welcome Him and trust Him, and in so doing become children of God. John is telling the story of a new creation, of a restart to the story that had gone so tragically wrong, of a new birth and a new beginning for all who receive Him, all who believe in His name.
Why did God do it? Why did He humble, I daresay humiliate, Himself in this way? Knowing what He surely knew about how He would be refused and rejected why didn’t He just leave us alone in our sin and separation? There is only one possible answer, because He loved us too much and He loves us too much still. He came to us so that we would come to Him.
Out of His great love, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth”…grace and truth. Biblical scholar Dale Bruner explains that God’s grace, His mercy and love shown in Jesus Christ, is displayed in the outward, horizontal reach of the cross. “To all, to anyone, to everyone, who received Him, to each and every one who believed in His name, He gave the power to become children of God.” The horizontal reach of Christ is extended to all people, calling us, drawing us, welcoming us in. The truth of Christ is visualized by the vertical standard of the cross, reaching from earth to heaven and heaven to earth, the promises of God fulfilled in the One who hung there, the Only One pure and perfect enough to take away the sins of the world. God’s truth revealed in Jesus Christ is powerful enough to support the horizontal beam of His grace. “And from His fullness we have all received grace upon grace”, ever flowing, never ending.
But why in this way? Louis Cassels tells a beautiful story that may help us better understand how God did what He did and why. “Once there was a man who looked upon Christmas as a lot of humbug. He wasn’t a Scrooge. He was a very kind and decent person, generous to his family, upright in all his dealings with others. He just didn’t believe all that stuff the church talks about at Christmas and was too honest to pretend that he did. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you’, he told his wife, ‘but I simply cannot understand this claim that God became a man. It doesn’t make any sense to me.’
On Christmas Eve his wife and children went to church, but he declined to accompany them, saying, ‘I’d feel like a hypocrite. I’d much rather stay at home, but I’ll wait up for you.’ Shortly after his family left, snow began to fall. He went to the window and watched the flurries getting heavier and heavier. ‘If we must have Christmas’, he reflected, ‘it’s nice to have a white one.’
“He went back to his chair by the fireside and began to read the newspaper when, a few minutes later, he was startled by a thudding sound. It was quickly followed by another, then another. He thought that someone must be throwing snowballs at his living room window. He went to the door to investigate only to find a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They had been caught in the storm and in a desperate search for shelter saw the light and had tried to fly through his window. ‘I can’t let these poor creatures lie there and freeze,’ he thought to himself, ‘but how can I help them?’ Then he remembered the barn where the children’s pony was stabled. It would provide warm shelter. He quickly put on his coat and boots and tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on the light, but the birds wouldn’t go in.
“‘Food will bring them in,’ he thought, so he hurried back to the house for bread crumbs which he sprinkled on the snow to make a trail to the barn. To his dismay the birds ignored the bread crumbs and continued to flop around helplessly in the snow. He tried shooing them in to the barn by walking around and waving his arms. They scattered in every direction except in to the warm, lighted barn. ‘They are afraid of me and I can’t think of any way to let them know that they can trust me.’ Then he thought to himself, ‘If only I could become a bird myself for a few minutes, perhaps I could lead them to safety.’ Just at that moment the church bells began to ring. He stood silently for a while, listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas; then he sank to his knees in the snow. ‘Now I understand’ he whispered, ‘Now I see why You had to do it.’”
Friends, this is the profoundly simple, yet simply profound, claim of the Christian faith: that the pre-existent, divine, all-creating Word, which in the beginning was with God and was God, came to us, not as a philosophy, a theory, a concept to be discussed, debated or considered; not as a book or a text or voice from heaven. He chose instead to humble Himself and take on human flesh, to become a person, in the form of a helpless baby no less, who grew to be our Savior and Lord. God’s greatest desire for us is that He be loved and enjoyed, received and believed, worshiped, followed and served.
You know, the farmer Virgil was on to something. He knew that John was telling the story of this birth in his own special way: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God…and the Word became flesh and lived among us…full of grace and truth”. If we want to know what God is like, what He looks like, acts like, thinks like, all we need do is look at “His only Son, Who is close to His Father’s heart, the One who has made Him known”…His name is Jesus.
Rev. L. John Gable
Tabernacle Presbyterian Church
Indianapolis, IN