Conversations in my Head: a Leading Indicator

I've been holding a conversation in my head for several days now.

Well... actually... it's more like weeks.

Hmmm... truth be told, month's would be closer to the mark.

I'm not kidding.

It may surprise no one to discover that the conversation is best described as an argument. And it's not with myself. It's with someone else.

I'm happy to report that I've been winning the argument. Hands down. It's a bit like war games exercises in the military. I keep re-running and re-running the argument, to see how it works with different twists. And I keep winning it.

But actually, I'm losing. I'm losing because the argument in my head is a cheap substitute for healthy conflict resolution that ought to be playing out in real life.

Thus the title of this reflection. By the time I find myself re-running a conversation (or argument) in my head more than once, I think I have all I need to know about what unfinished business I'm carrying around with me.

I need to have a cozy chat with God, and let the matter go.

Or...

I need to have that conversation with some special somebody. And see it through.

But arguing endlessly in the privacy of my own head is helping no one. It's a Losing Indicator.

The other person may have no clue that something's wrong. Or maybe they do know something is wrong, are rightly afraid to take the top off a screaming kettle of steam. Either way the net of it, for the other person, is a diminished relationship.

As for me? I'm certainly worse off. I know that because when I hold these closed-door sessions in my head, my gut keeps informing me that it's a whole-body affair, whether my head likes it or not.

And it ain't healthy.

I know this is Healthy Living 101 stuff, and yet somehow the notion of treating arguments in my head as a leading indicator feels like a new thought. I'm not sure why.

In any case, I guess I have my marching orders now. Or at least a leading from the Lord.

Will I follow?

Content With a Tent

When I picked the title for this reflection it struck me after the fact that the word "content" does essentially already mean "With a tent". That having been said, I do think it's importent to note that no pun was intented.

[Yes, I do slay myself.]

I was struck by something in 2 Samuel 7 the other day. Verse one begins with these words: "After the king was settled in his palace..."

Yes,David has finally himself escaped tent life. He'd been on the run from King Saul for I-don't-know-how-long. I'm sure there is a scholarly consensus on the number, though I don't have it before me. Whatever it is, it's clearly many years, safely north of a decade. Having finally escaped years of life as a pursued outlaw, however, David is now king of the land. Ruler over all Israel.

And David gets a great idea: he's going to build God a temple. Surely God is tired of tent-dwelling too? Wisely, David confers with Nathan the prophet before proceeding. Nathan agrees to the plan.

Then God steps in.

Later that night, we are told, God's word comes to Nathan. Words (in the plural) might be the more accurate description. God has a number of things to say! Several dwell (pardon another pun) on dwellings.

Firstly, God essentially scoffs at the notion that he needs David's help in acquiring "nicer digs". God next proceeds to explain in no uncertain terms that it's the other way around. God is going to establish the house of David. Better still, the house of David will be eternal.

As for God's house? That project can and (by God's decree) will wait. David's son will build it.

That's too tight a summary, but be that as it may...

The thing that struck me was God's opening question, posed to David. "Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in?" God proceeds to point out that he's been putting up with modest domestic circumstances for a long time. "I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling."

The contrast cannot be missed. David may have been consigned (unwillingly) to a tent for a decade and more. God, in contrast, has been content with a tent.

For centuries.

David may be relieved to now have a palace.

God is in no rush.

What for me added poignancy to this back-and-forth between God and David is that the very "House of David" which God did make eternal (as he promised here!) is finalized with the last, and eternal, installment of the final (and eternal) king. Jesus. The house of David was made eternal when King Jesus took his throne.

But before Jesus took his permanent place in eternity he did something else. He came and dwelt with men. And in perfect irony (intended? Or not?) the words John uses to explain this visitation are as follows:

John 1:14
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling with us.

The irony is easy to miss in the modern English provided above. In the original greek however, the phrase "made his dwelling" is a one-word verb: tabernacled. The tabernacle was the sacred tent David had thought to upgrade to a temple. Literally translated, then, John 1:14 indicates that Jesus "became flesh and pitched his holy tent among us."

So in one sense God's first physical long-term visitation with mankind began in a tent. And in another sense God's last physical visitation was in that same tent.

Tough questions. Tents are humble. And uncomfortable. If a tent is good enough for God... Is it good enough for me? Can I be content with a tent? How important is comfort to me? Might God just possibly have been setting an example for me in his willingness to dwell in humble digs?

More tough questions: There was a holy temple in Jerusalem when Jesus was born. In some strange sense, then, God quite literally left the temple to return to the tent. Are there any American temples I should pass over? In favor of the tent? Given the things Jesus had to say to those in charge of the temple, this is an important question. We have a lot of temples in America. Temples of a different sort, to be sure! But temples they are, nevertheless.

These difficult questions are food for thought for this particularly comfortable American. And for this comfortable American church.