The Dividing Walls

I'm teaching this Sunday using the 1 Corinthians 12 passage about the body of Christ. I haven't yet read the lesson (it's only Wednesday), but I've been thinking a little bit about it. I've also been thinking about the walls we build in the church, and how that relates to the body of Christ.

Have you ever had one of those experiences where you've got something on your mind, and the universe (or the Lord of the universe) keeps throwing things at you, "Look at this! Look at this!" I read a passage from Epheisans (2:11-22) this morning with my mouth hanging open (not literally, just figuratively). I read it from The Message, which, for me, can sometimes bring "the message" into sharp relief because of its modern language. I've linked the passage above to The Message version, so if you have time, go read it.

Verses 14-15:

The Messiah has made things up between us so that we're now together on this, both non-Jewish outsiders and Jewish insiders. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He repealed the law code that had become so clogged with fine print and footnotes that it hindered more than it helped. Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.

And then I drove by church this morning and saw the title of this Sunday's sermon which is "The Dividing Wall." Now I know that it probably isn't a coincidence; our church follows the lectionary readings, but it did stop me.

I had a topic in mind to write about this morning, and what is written above is actually the introduction to it, but as I sit here, I think that my topic is changing. I liked the one for today, and it does apply to the Ephesians passage, but I think I'll save it for another day.

The devotion I read this morning from Disciplines centered around Psalm 89:19-37. It's a list of God's promises to David. You can almost see David, standing before God, his eyes closed, his spirit open, with God's love cascading down, in a waterfall surrounding His child. A few samples:

And I'll keep my hand steadily on him, yes, I'll stick with him through thick and thin.

I'm with him for good and I'll love him forever;

Do you think I'd withdraw my holy promise? or take back words I'd already spoken?
I've given my word, my whole and holy word; do you think I would lie to David?

Note: I just did a bad thing -- I lifted verses up from a passage of scripture without giving you context, so don't trust me -- go read the whole thing if you want to know where they fit in. I just chose verses I liked.

How do we get from where we are to that place where David is standing?

It isn't by being perfect; David certainly wasn't perfect.

Go back to Ephesians and look at these particular verses (19-22):

That's plain enough, isn't it? You're no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You're no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He's using us all -- irrespective of how we got here -- in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he's using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day -- a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home.

I know that this is a passage in which Paul is trying to convince the Ephesians that there is neither Gentile nor Jew anymore -- the walls are gone, removed by Christ. Even knowing that, when I read it with my eyes, I see the assurance that God has taken down ALL the walls. He's building a place for us -- a place where we belong. He's using us, brick by brick, to build a dwelling place for us, and, amazingly, for Himself.

What's stopping Him? We are. We build our walls. Those walls separate us from each other, and they separate us from God. We try to build our own dwelling place, using our own blueprint, on shaking ground. The walls we build are mortared with a lack of trust in God. The bricks are our lack of faith, our fear, our tight grip on control. The whole time God is standing in front of us, pointing to his temple, and saying, "Look. I'm building this for you. Come out, and be a part of this!"

We shake our heads, not looking up, and continue to build our walls. Until we are walled in -- all alone. God stands outside, still calling, and we keep piling pebbles upon sand.

Sometimes, though, we peak a head out of a crack in our wall, and see God standing there. He's looking right at us, coaxing, as one would to a hidden child. Maybe, just maybe, we take a step out. We get splashed by God's waterfall, and wonder why we're building all these walls.

Images: The first one is of the marquee at our church. Imagine me stopped at the light, taking a photo from the car. Probably not a very bright move. The second one is of our backyard this morning -- a doe and two fawns. Can you see the second one? He's coming around the tree. I wish the picture was a video, because those fawns were having fun this morning. Fawn Fun.