Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. — Psalm 90:1
There is a lot to learn from the experience of the Israelites in the wilderness. Not only of what was written, but also what their experiences taught them about God.
We have to remember that this, by and large, was theology 101. They didn’t have books to turn to like we do; all they knew about God was through oral tradition and lived experience. And it is their lived experience that likely led Moses to begin his prayer in Psalm 90, by describing God as their “dwelling place.”
He was for them a pillar of cloud by day, and fire by night. When God moved, they moved. When God was stationary, they stayed put; he was their home, their address.
We are far removed from that experientially. For the modern Christian home is the place we return to, the place we feel most safe, and many of us invite God there. This is… okay, but theologically it would not do for the theological training of the Israelites, and truthfully it won’t do for us either.
To have God as dwelling place — home — is to see him as the primary place from which you derive your identity, it is to see him as the place you’re most truly yourself. To invite God into your dwelling place is to have him as a part of your space, even an important part. The former leads to a profound dependence on, and knowledge of, God. The latter leads to a life of endless questioning of priorities, and the creation of lists that many American Christians are proud of: 1) God. 2) Family. 3) Work. Etc…
These lists, though in appearance honorable, are really subtle ways of evading God. Because what is first in one’s life isn’t necessarily all of their life. God has come to be our first, but our all.
For this to sink in we must remember that we are in a wilderness of sorts, we are “aliens and exiles” (1 Peter 2:11) in the world. Paul was more direct when he wrote, “Our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 3:20).
These and more suggests that we have more in common with the wandering Israelites than we’d like to think. And our theology of God, though super-charged in Jesus, should, like theirs, enable us to live more fully with God as our dwelling place. The poets have said, “In him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28); this does not have to remain as pretty poetry, it can be theological realism, and the experience of it will lead to a most glorious life.
Lord, you have also been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Forgive us when we’ve sought to make our home in this far country. Like the Prodigal, teach us to think, “but in my Fathers house…” then grant us the grace to return to you, our Home. Amen.