Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”
The Jews then said, “It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and will you raise it up in three days.”
John 2:19-20
Jesus made this statement near the beginning of his ministry. Because his ministry was just being established, I bet most people still saw him as a carpenter, not yet as a Rabbi. For the first 30 years of his life he built things. In a sense, he was a construction worker. So when he claimed he could rebuild the temple in 3 days, I bet the Jews thought he was the most arrogant carpenter to walk the streets of Jerusalem. Because he was a carpenter, he knew a lot about buildings. But, because he was Christ, he knew even more about temples.
Since January, we have been visited by three different short-term construction teams. With those teams, five church buildings were erected and the new offices for the National Church Council were remodeled. There were the guys from Tuxedo, Oklahoma who built a tabernacle in two villages and did cosmetic work on the 2,000 seat central church. There was the LINK veteran construction crew who spent two weeks knocking down walls and putting up new ones for the offices of the National Church Council. Finally, there was Uncle Charity and his A-Team of builders who erected two church buildings and built an extension on a third.
I love construction work. No, not because it was fun to spend all day mixing cement by hand. Not because it felt good when I knocked a fingernail off while demolishing a wall. Not because I got a nice tan while screwing down a tin roof in 130+ degree heat. Not because I understood why the tower of Babel was never finished when translating between Nigerien and American construction workers. No, the reason I love it is because at the end of the day, when you are sore and exhausted, you can look and see the fruits of your labor. You can see the roof you helped raise, the walls you helped brick, and the floors you helped cement and tile. It is a source of pride when you see a finished church building that you helped build. You feel attached to it, a certain degree of ownership you can claim. And these are just simple little tin roof, block wall buildings that take about a week to build from start to finish. I can only imagine the pride with which the Jews regarded their temple that took forty-six years to build.
The main reason the Jews had such a hard time understanding what Jesus meant by temple was because they were so attached to buildings. As they understood it, God’s presence was housed in the extravagant edifices constructed by their forefathers. It was there that you went to encounter God. Today we have a similar fixation on buildings. To many, Mechanicsville Christian Center is recognized as the large building at 8061 Shady Grove Road, not as the group of people that gather there. Sometimes while doing construction we get this idea that we are building churches, that these simple structures will be monuments to God’s presence in the community. But the truth is, these structures are not the temples we intend them to be. The temple, the church, becomes no bigger when we put up a roof and four walls. Let me give you two examples.
The final tabernacle we put up was in Alambare. The church there is flourishing. They have been holding their meetings in a thatched hangar that barely fits the 60 or so members that show up on a Sunday morning. At night, when the work is done, over 100 gather around a fire to sing, dance, pray and hear God’s word. When we explained that we had the funds to build a tabernacle church, they promised to build the walls if we would only build the frame and roof. We furnished the things they could not afford or procure and they completed the work; a perfect partnership between the American Mission and the National Church. It took our seven-man crew less than four hours to raise the roof with the help of the church members. By the time we screwed down the last sheet of tin, over 70 had gathered to dedicate the new building, including the village chief. They danced and worshipped in the shade of the new roof that won’t be destroyed or leak during the rainy season. Hassan preached from the new pulpit to an attentive congregation.
Compare Alambare with Boubon. The church in Boubon has been established for three years. After three years there are only four Christians in the village. It took the same seven man working crew seven hours to raise the roof because we didn’t have as many members to help. The chief did make an appearance. He came to remind Djibo of the church’s property lines and to warn him not to build the wall outside those boundaries. At the dedication, the twelve of us who were present made a small circle in the shade and prayed over the new building. A paid construction crew will come later and build the walls.
The story of Alambare is far more encouraging than the story of Boubon, isn’t it? When you read the story of Alambare your heart wants to shout “Amen!” because the temple we constructed is already filled. But when you read about Boubon, instead of “Amen!” the word that comes to mind is “Why?” Why build a tabernacle that will be practically empty and shows no signs of being filled in the near future? Are there not better ways to use those resources?
I confess to asking those questions myself. But are those the same sorts of questions the Jews were asking Jesus? Are we so prideful about our church buildings that we forget for what they are intended? Do we mistakenly think we are constructing churches instead of buildings that serve the church? It’s easy to make the connection when you see the large congregation gathered under the tabernacle at Alambare. It’s a little harder when you see the handful that assembles on a Sunday in Boubon. But that does not necessarily mean the need in Boubon was any less.
Even though the church in Boubon is smaller, the building serves the church no less. Now the Christians there have a safe place to gather and hear God’s word, safe from the persecution of other villagers. Now those that are shunned by the Muslim community have a place of sanctuary. Those who have been kicked out of their homes by Muslim families have a place to sleep. It is still a house of prayer, a house of worship where God’s word is preached. But, it is also a place of refuge and a source of encouragement. It is a reminder that though they are few in number, the Nigerien church is big and stands alongside them. And by faith, I pray and believe that the church will one day fill the building we constructed.
“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s spirit dwells within you?”
1 Corinthians 3:16
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
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2 comments:
Amen brother.
What a great meditation on where we place our priorities. Thanks for sharing, Dan. I think I needed that.
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