“Does God Want a Home?”

A sermon by Lanny Peters

Oakhurst Baptist Church, Decatur Georgia

July 23,2006

2 Samuel 7: 1-14a

David was the master of the grand gesture. The first six chapters of Second Samuel is an account of the events surrounding David becoming king of Israel. The author of Samuel writes like a court historian, recounting David’s military and political genius in bringing a number of autonomous tribes from a loose and often feuding association to becoming a united nation. One of the most important grand gestures was establishing a capital at Jerusalem in was a politically neutral site with no prior associations with any of the tribes. Part of David’s brilliance was how he understood the power of symbols. Since the new capitol had no important shrines or other religious connections, David wanted to bring the Israelite’s most important religious symbol to the capital. It was called the Ark of God or the Ark of the Covenant.

What exactly the Ark was is not real clear. It likely began as some type of nomadic portable tent shrine. At first, it was probably a simple wooden chest with some sacred objects accumulated over the years by the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness. It appears first in the narratives about Moses and represents the presence of Yahweh in the camp. Later it seems to become a more elaborate golden shrine, some type of miniature throne for God.

At some point, Israel’s enemies, the Philistines had captured the Ark. As soon as David established Jerusalem as his capital, he amassed a huge army, soundly defeated the Philistines, and retrieved the ark. He brought it to Jerusalem with great fanfare, with songs and music and King David himself dancing with abandon before it. He got so carried away dancing in what must have been a skimpy outfit that his wife Michal later pointed out he had exposed himself before the town maidens. David did not deny this, but instead of being embarrassed, angrily declared that he was dancing before God and the maidens would honor him for that. (2 Samuel 6: 12-23) Michal was unimpressed and her descendants would later migrate to the southern part of the United States and try to altogether ban dancing in those parts.

Anyway, with the Philistines defeated and David at rest from all his enemies around him, and the sacred ark safe in Jerusalem, David built himself a nice home of cedar, which was the most expensive wood of that time. He then called the prophet Nathan, who appears for the first time. David tells him, “See now, I am living in this fine house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent.” Nathan immediately understood what he was getting at and said, “Go, do all that you have in mind; for the Lord is with you.”

But as we are often prone to do in the face of power, Nathan blessed David’s actions too quickly. Nathan sees no problem with what the King wants and authorizes a building permit but Nathan should have checked with God first. That night the word of the Lord came to Nathan in a dream, and said, Go and tell my servant David: Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt until this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying “Why have you not built me a house of cedar.”

Here we have one of the great tensions of the Bible and of faith itself. Does God prefer a house or the freedom of the road? At this point, it is clear that God does not want anything that looks like a permanent residence. God wants freedom to come and go as God pleases. God understands symbols and grand gestures more than David does and sees the real message here. God does not want some plush home where it might appear God could be restricted. God will not be bought off, controlled, or domesticated. Yahweh has been a free God and will continue to be. Yahweh will not be used by David as his royal patron. (Walter Brueggemann, paraphrased from Interpretation commentary on First and Second Samuel, p. 254)

Nathan goes on to share some words from God that will be central to Israel’s history and later claimed by Christians as well. God says that David will not build God a house, but instead God will build David a house. There is wordplay here in that the Hebrew word for house can also mean dynasty, and Nathan shares the dramatic promise from God that “Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me, your throne shall be established forever.” Ultimately, God will give in and allow David’s son to build a grand temple in Jerusalem but God stresses that it will be “for my name” only and not God’s own self that dwells in that house. (See 7: 13)

This story is pivotal. It represents a theological tension between the idea of God’s presence and God’s freedom. It also reflects the movement from the Israelites being a nomadic people to a settled people. Since the call to Abraham and Sarah to leave their home and again since the Israelites left Egypt, theirs had been a nomadic life.

All this got me thinking again about one of the most dramatic days of our youth pilgrimage to Morocco, the day we spent among the nomadic Berber tribes who live in the High Atlas. It was mentioned briefly when the youth shared in worship but I would like to tell you a bit more and how it relates to today’s scriptures. 

It was our fourth day in Morocco when Sister Mary arranged an open bed truck that would hold our entire group standing up in the back to take us to the village of Tattouine. It took us an hour or so to drive slowly up the winding mountain road, fording a stream along the way. The view was magnificent. We arrived and sat in Sister Mary’s humble but cozy home with dirt floors, and no running water or electricity like every other home in the village. We heard some of Mary’s amazing story, growing up In Ireland, living in South America among the poor where she was deeply influenced by liberation theology, and how she eventually found her way here.

Then we went to the home of one of her neighbors, where we had traditional mint tea and cookies, and lively conversation made possible by Mary’s translating and lots of non-verbal methods. At one point, the family living there and others who had dropped by pulled out traditional musical instruments and began playing and singing. Caught up in the excitement, the teenage girl living in the home put a scarf on her hips and began dancing, which was a wonderful surprise, since it is rarely done in mixed company. Some of us joined in the dancing and drumming.

We went from there to another home for the kind of feast that Sister Mary would later tell us is reserved for special occasions like weddings or funerals. We experienced what Sister Mary said she had learned from these people, the gift of Sacred Hospitality.

The village of Tattouine is a place of transition itself. It is the home of people whose ancestors until recently lived in tents as many of their relatives still do. Sister Mary herself spends much of the year living in a tent. In what epitomizes liberation theology, the community decides which family most needs her care, usually because of illness or death. That tent becomes the medical clinic and school, which the sisters operate.

That afternoon we spent walking in the High Atlas. Several of us walked along a dry riverbed talking with Sister Mary while most of our youth and some local boys scampered along the ridges high above us. We were going to stop at one of the nomad camps, but they had moved further up into the mountains since Mary last saw them. All we got was glimpse in the distance of this tent looking so tiny against the massive hills.

All this came back to me when I read from the lectionary passage God’s words to David, I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt until this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying “Why have you not built me a house of cedar.”

Among these people of another faith who have so little in the way of material possessions compared to us, we experienced God’s Sacred Hospitality freely moving about. Once you start building temples or churches or mosques, you can get the wrong idea that you are in charge of God. You might even begin to think that God is a Muslim or a Christian. God will not be bought off, controlled, or domesticated.

This tension between God’s freedom to roam and God having a house shows up again in the Gospels. Jesus himself is often in the middle of the question of whether God is primarily to be found in the Temple or on the road. This tension is also seen in Jesus’ own faith journey. Jesus leaves the security of his home to spread the good news of God’s realm. He calls his disciples to also leave their homes to join him, setting up another tension in our faith. How many of us are prepared to take Jesus as seriously as Sister Mary when he says that we should sell everything and give it to the poor and come and follow him.

If we are not going to take Jesus literally, we can at least take him seriously spiritually and have a faith that ventures out on the road as often as possible. I have always loved our simple sign out front that says, “Oakhurst Baptist Church meets here. Everyone welcome.” It serves to remind us that the church does not stay here during the week, it goes on the road with all of you, to schools and offices and hospitals and A.A. meetings and in the van to the prison and all the places our roads take us. Ours is a God that refuses to be cooped up in a house. As God reminded David, we don’t make a home for God. God makes a home for us. It is that home that Jesus leads us toward.

Jesus was reported to have said on several occasions, “I am the way.” The word for way can also mean road. It was so appropriate that the youth chose the quote from Augustine for their pilgrimage t-shirts “Our hearts are restless until we find our rest in Thee.” In going to Morocco, we went way out of our comfort zones, a long way from home, seeking the God who rambles and, yet, who is ultimately our real home.

If I were going to recommend a movie that explores all this in a wonderful way, it would be Transamerica. It features the Oscar nominated performance of Felicity Huffman as Bree Osbourne as a pre-operative transsexual who has been living successfully as a woman and is preparing for her sexual reassignment surgery.

When Bree learns that a teenage son she unknowingly fathered in college has been arrested for hustling, her psychiatrist insists that she meet the boy and resolve their relationship before the surgery can be approved.

To do this, she is forced to leave the security of her home and ends up on a cross-country road trip with her son. It is the story of their inner and outer journeys toward who God intends them to be.  

I won’t spoil it by saying more. But what I would like to end with is the words from the song that Dolly Parton wrote for the movie that was also nominated for an Oscar. 

Its called Travelin' Thru and it gets at the heart of what I am trying to say. The lyrics go like this:

Well I can't tell you where I'm going, I'm not sure of where I've been
But I know I must keep travelin' till my road comes to an end
I'm out here on my journey, trying to make the most of it
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit
Like a poor wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find what feels like home
Where that is no one can tell me, am I doomed to ever roam
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' on
Questions I have many, answers but a few
But we're here to learn, the spirit burns, to know the greater truth
We've all been crucified and they nailed Jesus to the tree
And when I'm born again, you're gonna see a change in me

God made me for a reason and nothing is in vain
Redemption comes in many shapes with many kinds of pain
Oh sweet Jesus if you're listening, keep me ever close to you
As I'm stumblin', tumblin', wonderin', as I'm travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru

Oh sometimes the road is rugged, and it's hard to travel on
But holdin' to each other, we don't have to walk alone
When everything is broken, we can mend it if we try
We can make a world of difference, if we want to we can fly

Goodbye little children, goodnight you handsome men
Farewell to all you ladies and to all who knew me when
And I hope I'll see you down the road, you meant more than I knew
As I was travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin'
Drifting like a floating boat and roaming like the wind
Oh give me some direction lord, let me lean on you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin', thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru

Like the poor wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find my own way home
Oh sweet Jesus if you're out there, keep me ever close to you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin', as I'm travelin' thru.