I overheard a family talking in The Commons recently about their holiday travel plans. Their immediate family lives within a few hours of Memphis. And those immediate family members expect this Highland family to be at each of their homes on each major holiday. If it’s Thanksgiving, each family member expects this one Highland family to eat turkey and pie at their house. If it’s Christmas, each family member expects this one Highland family to open presents at their house.
Kendra and I engaged in this runaround each holiday season when we lived in New Mexico. My Dad and stepmom lived two hours away. My Mom and stepdad lived 5 minutes away, as did Kendra’s parents. We never made it to all three homes on any one holiday. But on some Christmas Days we’d travel to two family homes—unpack presents, eat a little something, open presents, then pack the car and do it all over again at another home. And on some Thanksgiving Days we’d eat two Thanksgiving meals at two separate homes. That required a great deal of restraint. If I ate everything I wanted at the first house, I wouldn’t be able to eat anything at the second house. So I had to pace myself like a marathon runner. The holidays in New Mexico were always a juggling act. How many of you have faced holidays like this?
That juggling act can be a headache, but it still represents what so many of us love about this time of year. We love what I’ll call the “comfort of connection.” Even if we’re juggling schedules and locations, we love the comfort that comes by connecting with family or friends during the holidays.
I was talking to Highland member Alice Jackson on Wednesday about the best Christmas present she’s ever received. And she said the best Christmas present is to wake up and see all your family and have everyone all together under one roof. The comfort of connection. Another Highland member, Leslie Cain, wrote me: “The best [Christmas] gift I received was actually not wrapped in a bow. It’s being 36 and [being] able to look back at Christmas’s past realizing I was surrounded by parents and siblings that loved me.” That’s the comfort of connection. And it’s something some of us especially feel during the holidays.
But one of the greatest challenges of the holidays is what I’ll call the “crisis of connection.” We experience this crisis when we want to connect with someone but we can’t. We want to travel to see Grandma or Grandpa, but it’s not possible this year because of a scheduling conflict. We want to fly across the country to see Mom and Dad for Christmas but we don’t have enough money. We’d love to pick up a brother or sister at the airport for New Year’s but they just can’t make it. Many of us experience a real crisis during the holidays because we cannot connect with the people we most desperately want connection with.
John devotes some of his Christmas story to a similar crisis of connection. John begins his account of the whole life of Jesus in this way: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. (Jn. 1:1 ESV). John wants us to know that if we want to understand Jesus, including Jesus’ birth, we have to go all the way back to “in the beginning.” John has borrowed this language. He’s cut it and pasted it right out of Gen. 1:1: In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. If we want to grasp the meaning of Jesus, including Jesus’ birth, we have to go all the way back to Genesis 1.
The Genesis author paints a picture of God and his word. God speaks a word, and brilliant light floods the darkness. God speaks a word, and the mountains stretch high and valleys dive low. God speaks a word and trees spring forth. God speaks a word, and schools of fish fill the sea and flocks of birds fill the sky.
This life-giving word brings into existence everything and every place—including one very special place: The Garden of Eden. In this garden, God places a man and a woman, Adam and Eve. And this Garden of Eden becomes a place where they experience the ultimate comfort of connection. In this thriving garden God is fully present. The writer describes “the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day” (Gen. 3:8 ESV). God speaks directly to Adam and Eve in the garden. Eden is a place where God is fully present. And we can imagine Adam and Eve and God enjoying intimacy together there. It was the ultimate comfort of connection. It must have been like the best Thanksgiving Day or Christmas Day or New Year’s Day every day in Eden.
This account of God’s creating word takes up seven days. And at the end of the account, we are told “Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done…” (Gen. 2:1-2 ESV)
But by Gen. 3 God, Adam and Eve experience a crisis of connection. Adam and Eve decide that God is no longer needed. They turn their backs on God. And God drives them from Eden. They are now forced to live away from this place of connection. No more walking with God in the coolness of the garden. No more easy intimacy with him among the leaves. Adam and Eve experience a crisis of the most important connection. They experience separation from God.
And John writes, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. (Jn. 1:1 ESV). If you want to understand Jesus, including Jesus’ birth, you have to understand this beginning.
But this wasn’t the only beginning. Fast forward several chapters. We arrive at the book of Exodus. And we find in Exodus echoes of Genesis. In Exodus we hear seven speeches from God to Moses. There were seven days in the Genesis account. And there are seven speeches in the Exodus account. This is no coincidence. At the end of those seven days of Genesis we were told that “Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them. And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done…” (Gen. 2:1-2 ESV). ). At the end of the Exodus account we are told “all the work of the tabernacle of the tent of meeting was finished…” (Ex. 39:32). The parallel is no coincidence. There are echoes of Genesis in Exodus. Some scholars believe that Exodus is a parallel of Gen. 1-2. [1] Why? Because in Exodus God is recreating what was lost Genesis. Exodus finds God in the beginning again.
What exactly is God beginning again? It’s called the “tabernacle,” or “tent” or “tent of meeting.” Most of Exodus is about this tent. Often it is called the “tent of meeting.” The Hebrew word for “meeting” would eventually get translated by a Greek word. The Greek word also meant “witness” or “testimony.” This “tent of meeting” would be a place of “witness” or “testimony.” A “witness” is someone with direct knowledge about a person or an event. [2] Thus the “tent of witness” would be a place where people could acquire direct knowledge of God. It would be the place where people would get firsthand knowledge of God. The tent was the new place where God was fully present. Being in the tabernacle or tent was the equivalent of walking with God in the coolness of the garden. God was recreating was Eden.
There is a beautiful scene of this new Eden in Ex. 33: Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp, and he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the LORD would go out to the tent of meeting, which was outside the camp. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all the people would rise up, and each would stand at his tent door, and watch Moses until he had gone into the tent. When Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the LORD would speak with Moses. And when all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would rise up and worship, each at his tent door. Thus the LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend. When Moses turned again into the camp, his assistant Joshua the son of Nun, a young man, would not depart from the tent. (Ex. 33:7-11 ESV) It’s like Adam walking with God in the cool of the garden. The tent of meeting was the new garden. It was the new space where God was fully present. It was that place where the ultimate comfort of connection could be experienced.
But there was one major difference between Eden and the tent. Eden was a fixed location. The tent was a mobile location. Before, if you wanted the full presence of God and the deepest comfort of connection, you had to get to Eden. But now, you didn’t have to go anywhere. The tent would go with you. God’s presence was now on the move. Wherever the tent was, God was.
The word “tabernacle” means “to dwell” or “to sojourn” and carries the idea of a presence that is mobile.[3] The word combines both an abiding presence but a mobile presence.[4] Through the tent God was fully present with people wherever they were. Wherever the tent was, God was.
The difference between Eden and the tent is the difference between a dresser and a suitcase. For much of the year, we store our clothes in a dresser. And if we want to get to our clothes, we have to go to the dresser. But when we travel, as many of us do on the holidays, we put some of those clothes in a suitcase. And the suitcase goes wherever we go. We no longer have to go to the dresser to get clothes. Instead the clothes go with us in the suitcase. The same was true with the tent. Now God would go wherever the people were. That comfort of connection was available now no matter where the people were.
And this was important because the people in Exodus were facing their own crisis of connection. There was a crisis of connection because of the sin in their life. Immediately prior to the account of Moses meeting with God in the tent is the account of the Golden Calf. Like Adam and Eve, the people of Israel turn their back on God. And their betrayal angers God. It raises the question: Will God still want them after their sin? Will God still be present in spite of their sin? There was a crisis of connection due to the sin in their life.
But there was another crisis of connection related to the stage of their life. Exodus takes place mostly in the wilderness. This is the in-between land. They’ve left Egypt but not yet arrived in the Promised Land. They are in transition. For forty years they will be stuck. And that life-stage raises questions about connection. Can God still be experienced in the in-between? Where is God when we’re not yet where we hope to be? They experience a crisis of connection related to stage of their life.
It’s in that context that God tells them to build the tent. God seemed to be saying to them: “Wherever you are, I am fully present. Even in your sin, I am fully present. Even in your transition, I am fully present.” Through the tent, God would be present with them wherever they were. Even in sin, connection was still possible. Even in transition, connection was still possible.
It is likely that you are experiencing one of those two crises of connection. Some of us end this year feeling the crisis of connection due to the sin in our life. December finds us wrestling with the same sin January found us wrestling with. It could be pornography. It could be anger. It could be envy. But some of us are wondering: Does God even want connection with me where I am right now?
Others of us are experiencing a crisis of connection because of the stage of our life. We’re in some in-between stage. Back in January, as we dreamed of December, we imagined we’d be pregnant by now, or married by now, or retired by now, or have a job by now, or have some friends by now, or get a promotion by now. But we’re still in-between. And we’re wondering: Where is God in the midst of all of this?
And what God was saying to the Israelites, he is saying to you. In spite of your sin, he still wants connection. And he is still available to you even in this in-between stage. God’s become mobile. And he’s present wherever you are.
All of this is in John’s mind as he begins his Gospel by writing, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (Jn. 1:1 ESV). John wants us to remember the garden and the tent. He wants us to remember the connection and the crisis.
But that’s only introductory. Because with Jesus comes another beginning. And something happens with Jesus that has not happened with the garden or the tent: And the word became flesh and dwelt among us… (Jn. 1:14 ESV). That word which brought something from nothing, that word which caused stars to twinkle and fish to swim, that word which gave life to all became flesh. That word so present in Genesis and in Exodus grew a skeleton, bolted on muscle, and draped itself in flesh.
And John says that incarnated word “dwelt among us.” What John literally writes is that this word “tabernacled” among us. John picks up the same word used in Exodus for the “tent” or “tabernacle” or “tent of meeting.” Only now, John applies it to Jesus. John literally writes that the word “tabernacled” among us. What God did in the tent he is now doing through Jesus—but with one major difference. Now he’s come in the flesh. Now he’s come in person. Eden was a fixed spot where God was fully present. The tent became a mobile space where God was fully present. But in Jesus we do not have a garden or a tent. In Jesus we have a human being. Through flesh and blood God now tabernacles among us. Through flesh and blood God is now fully present.
I asked Jill Hatcher, Brishan’s wife, about the best Christmas gift she ever received. Jill wrote this: “My father passed away in 1987, yet every Christmas I still receive a gift from him from my mom. She picks a staple item that was a part of his daily life and wraps [it] to give to me. I’ve gotten things like his favorite baseball shirt, his drivers license, one of his bibles, etc.” Let’s imagine that favorite baseball shirt was once in a dresser. If you wanted access to it you had to get to that dresser. But through Jill’s mother, that shirt became mobile. Jill’s mother was able to send that shirt to Jill so that where Jill was, the shirt was also. And through that shirt Jill is able to experience a kind of comfort of connection. In a way she reconnects with her father. But let’s take that image one step farther. Imagine if it was possible to bring Jill’s father back. Imagine if this Christmas, instead of receiving her father’s shirt, Jill received her father. In the flesh. What connection there would be this Christmas!
And John says that’s exactly what’s happened through Jesus. We do not have to go to some fixed spot to reconnect with God. We don’t even just have a mobile tent around to reconnect with God. Instead, God has come in person. In the flesh. He’s moved into our world. He’s moved into our neighborhood. And what connection is available this Christmas!
John Ortberg writes,[5] Father Damien was a priest who became famous for his willingness to serve lepers. He moved to Kalawao—a village on the island of Molokai, in Hawaii, that had been quarantined to serve as a leper colony. For 16 years, he lived in their midst. He learned to speak their language. He bandaged their wounds, embraced the bodies no one else would touch, preached to hearts that would otherwise have been left alone. He organized schools, bands, and choirs. He built homes so that the lepers could have shelter. He built 2,000 coffins by hand so that, when they died, they could be buried with dignity. Slowly, it was said, Kalawao became a place to live rather than a place to die, for Father Damien offered hope. Father Damien was not careful about keeping his distance. He did nothing to separate himself from his people. He dipped his fingers in the poi bowl along with the patients. He shared his pipe. He did not always wash his hands after bandaging open sores. He got close. For this, the people loved him. Then one day he stood up and began his sermon with two words: “We lepers….” Now he wasn’t just helping them. Now he was one of them. From this day forward, he wasn’t just on their island; he was in their skin. First he had chosen to live as they lived; now he would die as they died. Now they were in it together. One day God came to Earth and began his message: “We lepers….” Now he wasn’t just helping us. Now he was one of us. Now he was in our skin. Now we were in it together.
God’s never cared much for keeping his distance. He walked in the cool of the garden with Adam and Eve. He met with Moses in the tent. And in Jesus he tabernacles among us. But this time, God doesn’t merely provide a place. He becomes a person. He becomes one of us. And now we’re in this together. Oh what connection there is this Christmas!
[1] Walter Brueggemann “The Book of Exodus,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume 1 (Abingdon, 1994), 884.
[2] Swanson, J. (1997). Dictionary of Biblical Languages with Semantic Domains : Greek (New Testament) (electronic ed.). Oak Harbor: Logos Research Systems, Inc.
[3] Brueggemann, 884.
[4] Brueggemann, 888.
[5] John Ortberg, God Is Closer Than You Think (Zondervan, 2005), 103-104.
