| Holy Place | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Big Bear Lake, CA | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The parking lot is as cold and dark as the magnificent stone halls of a king's court. We were indeed entering into the dwelling place of the King of Kings. "This king is different from all other kings," I thought. "My King is loving, accepting, and desires that none of his people should perish. I would not like to serve the other kings, who are cruel, cold and harsh." - much like the asphalt that I tread upon. The leaves skitter away with a scratch at the slightest presence of the wind's breath. What are the afraid of? Surely the wind is not so unkind! A flood of warmth and light come forth from the doors of my sanctuary, my solace. The Solacer will heal me of my wounds, and give me the comfort that I crave in my time of grief. For this reason, my heart quickens in the anticipation of it. I stole into the dwelling place of my shepherd, and quickly take a seat near the front of the room, a favorite place where fewer distractions are observed. I look around the room, noticing that the bandstands, flutes, trombones, violins, guitars, and other instruments of music were set off to the side of the room. The enclosure doubles as a band room during the school day. The room smelled of vanilla, and I smiled at the thought of the air freshener working over time to cover up the smell of many bodies gathered together in one room. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
The worship leader sends up a prayer of thankfulness and praise, and the room becomes silent, save the one voice that speaks for all. Then the melody of worship and the hearts that glorify God (along with the vanilla freshener) sends up a sweet aroma, a burnt offering to the throne room of my sweet Jesus. The harmony of the crickets floats into the reside, and a sense of a peace that passes all understanding falls upon each face, in the same manner as the dew, which falls like a gentle blanket on the land. The sweet sounds of voices in unison, in harmony, bring rest to my soul. I am overwhelmed at the thought that God, the Creator of the universe, would come down and give his life up as a sacrificial lamb that we might live together with him. Worship is soon over, and Pastor Aaron steps up to the microphone. |
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| He reads the words of Psalm 23: | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, For you are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil, my cup runs over. I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| What sweet words! Jesus is the Shepherd, and when you wander, he brings you back; He only wants what is best for you. He only wants what is good and honorable for you. Ah, this night of nights, I desire that I could dwell in the house of the Lord forever. But I may! It seems that I have just barely set foot into the throne room of God, and that Heaven and Eternity must be so much more awe-inspiring then these mere 2 hours on earth. When the service is over, I reluctantly make my exit back to the cold, dark world. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| With Jesus dwelling in me, a flood of warmth and light come forth from me much like the light of the youth room into the dark and misty world that is filled with fear and uncertainty. My only hope is that you would come to see this peace, that church is not a place for hypocrites (for we all miss perfection), but that it is a place to put to death your anguishes and come into the presence of the Giver of Life. Come just as you are, and be solaced. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; put away the evil of your doings from before My eyes. Cease to do evil, Learn to do good; Seek justice, Rebuke the oppressor; Defend the fatherless, Plead for the widow...Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool. (Isaiah 1:16-18)" | |||||||||||||||||||||||||
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