Exodus 26

Chapter 26

My first exposure to the word "tabernacle" was at the Family Camp my church's conference holds every summer. Although it's located in the Santa Cruz mountains and called a "camp," it's far from primitive; the "cabins" are not built out of logs, but feature running water and electricity. You don't have to cook your canned food on a camping stove or over a fire pit either; the cafeteria cooks all the utterly scrumptious food for you. And the tabernacle isn't a tent divided into a Holy Place and a Most Holy Place, but rather a building that looks like your average nondenominational church sanctuary. I do think the word "tabernacle" has a rather mellifluous quality befitting its role as God's throne on Earth.

This chapter, basically instructions for a DIY tabernacle (though I'd certainly muck it up if I tried building it myself), doesn't offer too much in the way of explicit spiritual instruction. I can spit out to you all the intriguing notes offered by the NIV Study Bible, but those are the editors' thoughts, not mine. The one aspect I can grasp onto here is the separation of the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place. Jesus' death means that this separation, a "one-step removal" from God's presence, no longer pertains to us. But in that process, perhaps we've lost some of the awe and reverence we should feel whenever we're in God's presence--which is pretty much all the time.

I'm quite guilty of this--I'm not always mindful that God is basically standing right beside me during my every action--noble and ignoble alike. Once I become familiar with someone, I get comfortable. Those who know me in real life would be surprised at how gregarious I am with my brothers, who I've known for literally my whole life. But maybe my comfort with God has created complacency--I forget that God is the creator of the universe who can't tolerate sin, but who sent His son to die for our perfidies, peccadillos, and outright transgressions. And I know I can take His grace for granted. I keep writing about how I've never had an explicit conversation with God, but shouldn't I do all I can to grow in my relationship with Him so I can converse with the King of Kings? I admit that I'd like to meet and chat with celebrities whose work I admire despite my diffidence (though only certain ones--the vast majority of them I just wouldn't have anything of substance to say anything to), but we all have a direct line to the greatest Being of all. And (cheesy metaphor alert) if you ring him up, He'll always listen and answer in His own way.

"You shall not murder" (20:13)

Not much to say about this one; the thought of murdering someone has never crossed my mind. Sure, I get angry with those who commit grievous injustices, but I'm not some vigilante. This commandment does not say "You shall not kill," but still, I hope that I'll never have to face a situation in which I have to kill someone.