I walk up to the brazen altar and in my mind I throw all my internal mess on it. Sometimes it takes a minute--there's a lot. My soul breathes a little deeper as I watch my mess burn. I walk to the water basin that's next in the outer court.
Worshippers are supposed to wash their hands in the basin, and as they do so, they see their own reflection in the bottom of it. I almost invariably find myself getting my hands wet, and then my face too. I then watch my dripping visage in the reflection and I'm reminded of the fleshly façade of my humanity. My wet, dripping face being made holy by living water.
I turn toward the Holy Place and draw the curtain back and step in. I look up at the ceiling, the tabernacle tapestries shimmering with gold and telling me a story of all the stars that would be Abraham's descendants and how by some undeserved, intentional sacrifice I get to be one of them.
I look to my left, and I see the golden lamp stand. I walk toward it and finger the almond blossom figurines all over its gilded base. I remember what's remarkable about the almond tree: it's one of the few that bud, blossom, and seed all at the same time. It's in a constant cycle. The small flowers remind me that, when one thing is brought to seed in my life another is budding and God is always, always at work. I gaze at the flickering light on all twelves of the wicks, and I catch the faint scent of the freshly pressed olive oil burning.
I turn around and approach the table behind me. The bread of the presence. Manna. Daily bread. Made daily and never good enough for the next day too. Mercifully, that's His presence.
Finally, I come to the center of the next curtain and I light the altar there. A small stream of smoke wafts upward and a sweet smell overcomes the small, traveling chamber. The altar of incense. Prayer, it means. Here I go: my favorite part.
I draw back the final curtain and walk almost unceremoniously into the Holy of Holies--but still fully cognizant most days of what a privilege it is to be so familiar with it. This is my Place, where I belong, and many days I end up on my face because it's oddly comfortable and...well, perfect.
In my mind's eye, I see Him on the Throne above, the Ark of the Covenant as his footstool. And then I remember that my own person is now the Ark--I am where his feet rest.
"My Father, who is in Heaven above--hallowed, holy, sacred is your omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent Name. The very utterance of it. Hallowed.
I ask that Your Kingdom, Your Economy, would come and Your Will be done here on Earth, in my home, in my life, and in my heart and mind as it is in Heaven. I pray I would live in Your Economy and not this world's.
Give me, Father, today what I need. Not what I want but what I need. And give me the wisdom to know it when I see it. You say if any of us lacks wisdom to ask You, for you give generously to all without reproach and so I'm asking: give me wisdom as you give me my Manna today.
Father, take my sins from me--as far as the East is from the West. Remove them from me and forgive me my transgressions. The ones I am aware of and the ones I am not. Make me holy and whole before you today. Give me the grace for others You have for me.
Holy Spirit, fill me. You are always present, but I ask that you would be unimpeded in me and fill me. Take me over until I am helpless to Your power in and through me. Take over my mind, my thoughts, my heart, and my actions. Fill me to the outer extremities of my limbs and take me over today. Go before me in all I do.
Father, let me not be led into temptation. Send it far from me, and give me the instinct to flee it. Deliver me from evil.
Father, Yours, and Yours alone, is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, for now and all Eternity.
Amen."
Worshippers are supposed to wash their hands in the basin, and as they do so, they see their own reflection in the bottom of it. I almost invariably find myself getting my hands wet, and then my face too. I then watch my dripping visage in the reflection and I'm reminded of the fleshly façade of my humanity. My wet, dripping face being made holy by living water.
I turn toward the Holy Place and draw the curtain back and step in. I look up at the ceiling, the tabernacle tapestries shimmering with gold and telling me a story of all the stars that would be Abraham's descendants and how by some undeserved, intentional sacrifice I get to be one of them.
I look to my left, and I see the golden lamp stand. I walk toward it and finger the almond blossom figurines all over its gilded base. I remember what's remarkable about the almond tree: it's one of the few that bud, blossom, and seed all at the same time. It's in a constant cycle. The small flowers remind me that, when one thing is brought to seed in my life another is budding and God is always, always at work. I gaze at the flickering light on all twelves of the wicks, and I catch the faint scent of the freshly pressed olive oil burning.
I turn around and approach the table behind me. The bread of the presence. Manna. Daily bread. Made daily and never good enough for the next day too. Mercifully, that's His presence.
Finally, I come to the center of the next curtain and I light the altar there. A small stream of smoke wafts upward and a sweet smell overcomes the small, traveling chamber. The altar of incense. Prayer, it means. Here I go: my favorite part.
I draw back the final curtain and walk almost unceremoniously into the Holy of Holies--but still fully cognizant most days of what a privilege it is to be so familiar with it. This is my Place, where I belong, and many days I end up on my face because it's oddly comfortable and...well, perfect.
In my mind's eye, I see Him on the Throne above, the Ark of the Covenant as his footstool. And then I remember that my own person is now the Ark--I am where his feet rest.
"My Father, who is in Heaven above--hallowed, holy, sacred is your omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent Name. The very utterance of it. Hallowed.
I ask that Your Kingdom, Your Economy, would come and Your Will be done here on Earth, in my home, in my life, and in my heart and mind as it is in Heaven. I pray I would live in Your Economy and not this world's.
Give me, Father, today what I need. Not what I want but what I need. And give me the wisdom to know it when I see it. You say if any of us lacks wisdom to ask You, for you give generously to all without reproach and so I'm asking: give me wisdom as you give me my Manna today.
Father, take my sins from me--as far as the East is from the West. Remove them from me and forgive me my transgressions. The ones I am aware of and the ones I am not. Make me holy and whole before you today. Give me the grace for others You have for me.
Holy Spirit, fill me. You are always present, but I ask that you would be unimpeded in me and fill me. Take me over until I am helpless to Your power in and through me. Take over my mind, my thoughts, my heart, and my actions. Fill me to the outer extremities of my limbs and take me over today. Go before me in all I do.
Father, let me not be led into temptation. Send it far from me, and give me the instinct to flee it. Deliver me from evil.
Father, Yours, and Yours alone, is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, for now and all Eternity.
Amen."
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